Page 27 of The Mafia’s Girlfriend

“But you don’t care either way?” I asked, needing to understand something—anything—about him.

“I cared about helping you get away from them. And I did. Color me confused why you still won’t get the fuck outta here.” He hissed in a sharp breath with his next step and he rubbed his side.

“Are you all right?”

He deadpanned at me, licking the slight spot of blood from a small cut on his lip. He had no right to look hotter. To be even more tempting. So sexy, like a rough-and-tumble beast of a man to tame.

“I can see you home.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m walking.”

“Then I’ll walk you home.”

“No thanks.”

My jaw dropped.

“I’d rather you not.”

Again, trying to tell me what to do. I tipped my chin up. “Too bad.”

He muttered something too low for me to hear, but he didn’t repeat himself. He turned to head down another street, but I couldn’t resist peeking back at the mess he’d left behind.

The further I walked with him, the thicker the tension grew between us. So many questions filled my mind, and I scrambled to push them aside.

Nervous and anxious, I tried to land on one thing to say.

“What?” he groaned. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

I gave up glancing at him and cut him off so he’d stop. “I feel like I should say thanks.”

He smirked. “Save it.”

“But I don’t want to express any gratitude to you and have to owe you anything.”

His brows lifted. It almost looked like he wanted to smile. It was probably another smirk or sneer.

“And I’d prefer not to be indebted to you.” To anyone, actually.

He chuckled lightly, laughing me off like he had that night when I was on the balcony. “You don’t owe me anything.” Shoving past me, he resumed walking. “Just go away.”

I pressed my lips together, annoyed that he’d push me away. Over and over. “You don’t make any sense.”

“I wasn’t aware I was supposed to.”

I hurried to catch up with him, rushing a step ahead to block his way and force him to face me. “You fight those men to defend me, but then you want nothing to do with me.”

He licked his cut lip again, glancing to the side.

“Why?”

Locking his intense glare on me, he seemed to search for a reason why he should bother replying.

“I don’t want anything to do with you because were too damn different.” He pointed between us. “We’re on different sides of the line drawn in the ground. Rich to poor. High maintenance to dirty lowlife. VIP pain in the ass with the idiot worker.” He scoffed. “That’s why I need to you go away and fuck out of my life. Where and how should I want anything to do with someone like you?”

“How dare—”

He held up his hand. “I’ve got enough fucking problems in my life without you being an issue too.”