Turning Point||Book 2

24: Romano.

"You're shitting me, right?"

"No, I'm dead serious," I replied firmly, ignoring her incredulous expression. Her pale face was more amusing than concerning. This was all part of the job description, the easiest part even. Revealing ourselves to someone who could potentially assist us against another was routine.

The worst part of the job was the potential for unintended consequences. I once trailed a guy so aggressively that he became disoriented and drove himself down a hill. It turned out he was the wrong person entirely, and his reckless driving was a result of my presence startling him, not intentional evasion.

As men operating in the underground, we were accustomed to encountering dangerous situations. So, having a fucking chat with a woman was a welcome change of pace.

Xenia left her coat in the car and joined me, the twilight casting a seductive gleam on her skin. "Bad idea, but can we move?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the hum of the city.

Ignoring her request, I drew her closer, the chaos of the street — playing kids and passersby — fading into the background as I pinned her against the car, my grip on her neck bordered on disrespectful, if you didn't want to think "intimate".

"Not yet."

"What are you doing?" Her voice sounded weary as I nearly kissed her neck in broad daylight. "Romano, there's a kid staring at you."

Ah. My left brow arched. Most normal kids wouldn't witness something like this until they were well past eighteen. But my world was different from that.

"Are you worried about the kid or yourself?"

She gazed at me wide-eyed as my question reached her. Sighing, she shook her head. "I don't know what you mean."

Her pretense prompted me to withdraw from her neck, running my palm down her arm before releasing her. Towering over her, I effectively shielded her from view. If I dared to reach under her dress, only the adults nearby would notice, and that didn't sit quite right with me. Yet, I feigned indifference to the potential consequences. As my grip ventured towards her thigh, seemingly lifting her dress slightly, she shook violently to dislodge me.

"Fuck," she spat, gripping my hand tightly. "Both! Both! Stop. Christ."

"Why the pretense then, butterfly?" I asked. "You seem to flip-flop between wanting to return to your old life and staying right where I want you."

After a moment's hesitation, she whispered into my ear as she stretched to her toes, "Never said I didn't want you. I'm simply not sharing you. Not with Kate."

The rush of blood coursed through me like a damn flood. I toyed with the idea of giving it another shot, see if I could shake off the ghost of Angelo every time she melted under my touch. But with the damn road teeming with traffic, it was a lost cause. One problem was her damn concern for the people around us, or else I would've fucked her right there in the car. Another snag was our destination. The third headache? If I unleashed this pent-up aggression, impatience, and anger on her, I'd be kissing ass for days to make up for it.

Her eyes came back to me after straying to whatever was around us. "You could have done this in the car, you know that right?"

"I'm versatile," I said, a taunting smirk playing on my lips. "Some things are best enjoyed with an audience."