And a nosy fucking one at that.
Rocco slams his glass on the table and leaps off the couch. “I’m done here. Time to get laid.”
I nod. “Good luck with that.”
He storms past me and heads toward the dance floor on the hunt for his next conquest. Those two are so damn stubborn. Do they really think everyone is blind to the games they play with each other? Don’t they know that they’re made for each other?
And if that’s the case, shouldn’t they do everything to make shit happen?
Unlike me and Sloane who were doomed from the start.
Sloane
“I feel really uncomfortable in this dress.” I pull it down as much as possible, locking my knees so the fabric doesn’t rise any higher, otherwise the club owner may mistake me for one of the pole dancers and stick me into one of those cages.
“You look amazing,” Shaye gushes, slurring her words. “I’m so glad you came tonight. And I have to tell you…this-s fucking outfit is-s so hot! I’m sweating like a whore in church in all this leather, S-sloaney-Baloney!” Her voice rises and she lets out a shrill giggle.
God, I hate that nickname. “Okay, babe. I came for a little while, but I think it’s time for me to head out. I’m so tired, and I—”
“No!” She points a finger at me. Her hand wobbles, like she’s not exactly sure where she’s pointing, and I can probably bat it away and send her face-down into the couch cushion because her balance is nil right about now. “You can’t go. I need you here.”
I sigh. “You have Kat, who, by the way, is much more on your level and doesn’t need to be up in about five hours for work.”
“You spend too much time at the hos-spital.” She picks up her glass and tries to sip from the straw, but her mouth isn’t cooperating. I swallow a snicker. Shaye is clearly enjoying her twenty-first birthday party...now, anyway. In a few hours, she’ll probably have her head stuck in a toilet. I see this level of drunk in the ER all the time and it never, ever ends well.
“It’s my job. I kind of signed up for that when I decided to become a nurse.”
She leans toward me and lays her arms over my shoulders, her lips close enough to peck me. “Listen, Shaye. You know I love you, but you’re really not my type. Although I am tempted to smack your ass in those pants.” I snicker and take a long swig from my bottle of water.
“I’m not going to kiss you, S-sloane. Don’t worry. But you have to kiss someone tonight. I can’t let you leave until you do.” She puts up her hands, although I think they’ll do her more good pressed into the couch. At least that’ll keep her from pitching forward and face-planting on the floor. “Don’t even try to fight me on that.”
“You can’t have everything.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I didn’t fight you on the dress, remember? I was pretty agreeable about it, if memory serves.”
Shaye’s eyebrows knit together. “Oh, hmm. You’re right.” She narrows her eyes. “But that doesn’t count.”
“Why not? It’s not bad enough that I feel like a slutty mummy?” I snicker and take another sip of water.
“I happen to love that dress-s. And just so you know, I only want you to be happy.” Shaye pulls herself onto her knees, and by some miracle doesn’t end up rolling off the couch. She steadies herself by clapping her hands onto my shoulders. “Are you happy, S-sloane?”
Happy. There’s a word I haven’t really thought much about lately. Busy, yes. Stressed, definitely. Exhausted? No question about it.
But happy?
That remains to be seen.
“I’m good.” There’s a word.
“Good is bad.”
“Are you talking in code right now? Is this what too much vodka does to you?” I giggle. “Look, I appreciate your concern about my non-existent love life, but really, I’m fine. I have a lot going on right now, and I have to focus on my job.” And forgetting about Max for good.
“You work too hard.”
“Maybe I like not having too much downtime.” Downtime gives me time to think and wonder…like what exactly happened on Thanksgiving night between Max and that hoebag. And why he couldn’t even have the decency to text me that he’d opted for a booty call over my tiramisu.
I don’t have the energy to waste on that kind of crap.
“You’re getting in pretty close there, babe. It looks like you’re about to cop a feel.” Nico walks over and kneels down in front of Shaye. “And I can’t say I wouldn’t be turned on by watching this play out.”
Shaye snickers and slaps Nico’s shoulder. “You’re s-sick! I’m just catching up with my bestie. I miss her.”
“You just saw me a few hours ago!”
She shrugs. “Feels like longer.”
“That’s the booze talking.” I give her a quick hug and rise from the couch. “I hope you have a plastic bag in your precious Audi,” I murmur to Nico.
He winks. “I have a whole box.”
I start to back away as Shaye settles into Nico’s chest, her eyes drooping closed. They’ve been a lot more attached over the past month or so. Constantly together, almost like they can’t breathe on their own. It’s weird. And Shaye hasn’t been herself lately at all. Something is up with her. With them. I make a mental note to mention it to her. Maybe over some Swiss Miss hot chocolate to cushion the blow a bit. She can get pretty damn defensive. “Okay, this has been fun, guys.” Yes, fun like a scalpel to the chest without anesthetic. “Shaye, I’ll call you tom—"
My leg slams into something hard and I stumble, losing my balance. Thank God I had the good sense to wear flats instead of the hooker heels Shaye dangled in front of me. Not only are my feet killing me from running around during my shift at the hospital, but I’m already five foot ten. Heels are the last thing I need, especially in a place where most of the guys are vertically challenged.
Seriously, Nico is the tallest one I’ve seen all night.
I spin around.
Nope. I stand corrected.
My heart hammers as I take in a sharp breath, filling my lungs with a deliciously sexy scent I’ve come to love. A throbbing pulse indicates that my blood pressure is about to soar into the heavens. Tiny beads of perspiration pop up along the back of my neck, and my lips stretch into a tight line. Dammit. I’m a trauma nurse, for Christ’s sake. Being calm and collected is a requirement. I don’t come undone…for anything.
Under normal circumstances.
But Max Oriani is anything but normal.
He’s moody, self-absorbed, cocky, and insensitive, basically an all-around jerkoff. This is what I’ve been chanting to myself for the better part of the past two weeks.
A jerkoff with the power to make me tingle in places that haven’t been tended to in longer than I’d care to admit. A jerkoff who has gotten two chances to figure out how to be a guy I’d even consider spending my precious time with.
And that was two chances too many in my opinion.
I’m not stupid enough to go down that path a third time.
I clench my fists, my narrowed eyes darting toward Nico and Shaye who suddenly have become otherwise occupied and are currently cozied up in their little bubble of deceit.
I knew it. They got me here under false pretenses.
And I’m wearing this dress…a whorey bathing suit thing that leaves nothing to the imagination.
Nothing.
I want to run, but I’m afraid the dress will ride up into the wild blue yonder if I make any sudden moves.
“Hey,” Max murmurs, keeping his distance, a damn good thing since past experience warrants that I launch a fist at his perfectly chiseled jaw.
I don’t respond. I can’t, since I’m too consumed with the lust clouding my mind and weaving a path through my body. All of the X-rated images prevent me from formulating coherent thoughts. My mouth is drier than a woman seeing Jim Belushi naked, and even if my lips decided to work, I have a feeling they’d betray me, too.
What the hell is wrong with me? How did I all
ow this to happen?
I am the most even-tempered person I know. Practical, logical, and composed.
Except when it comes to him.
Then, I suddenly transform into some sex-crazed, lust-induced woman who can think about nothing other than his body plastered on top of mine, under mine, behind mine…
Why, why, why?
Damn them all!
I straighten to my full height, still a good four inches shorter than Max. Another thing I hate. I don’t feel like I’m in control when I’m staring up at him, and damn-near close to drooling, if I’m being honest.
Just think about what he did. Remember how it made you feel! Remember seeing that bitch in the vintage concert t-shirt you paid a small fortune for because he loves freaking AC/DC!
I grit my teeth and take a deep breath. “Max. How not nice to see you.” I try to slide past him, but there are too many people blocking my path and his fingers wrap around my wrist, keeping me rooted to the spot. Well, that and my feet are no longer communicating with my mind.
My body wants to stay put, actually, my body wants to wrap itself around his wearing this whorey bathing suit thing, but my mind knows it’s a horrible idea.
So what the hell will win?
“Please let go of me,” I say with a smile so fake, it can rival most of the boobs in this place.
“If I do that, you’ll leave.”
I narrow my eyes and lean in close so he doesn’t miss the disdain dripping from my voice. “You didn’t seem to care about that weeks ago when you blew me off for that whore.”
“I told you, babe, It’s not what you think.”
“Really? Half-naked girl walking around your house, you shirtless…and not lying in a ditch somewhere. I believe it’s exactly what I thought.”
“Sloane, I never wanted to hurt you. But something came up, and I just…I couldn’t—"
“Just stop! I thought you were a better person than you are. I thought my friendship actually meant something to you.” I put up a hand to stop any more shit from spewing out of his mouth. I can feel my pulse throbbing hard against my throat. My skin prickles from his nearness, and I hate my body for betraying me yet again within minutes. “You know what, Max? I don’t even care. I stopped caring a long time ago. We’re not meant to be anything, and that’s pretty damn clear to me now. I can’t believe I let this happen…let myself…again…” I shake my head and clutch my temples. “Argh! I’m not this girl!”
“It sounds like you might be,” Kat comes up behind me and whispers into my ear. “Just my two cents.”
I jump about a foot into the air, letting out a loud groan when I twist to see her wicked smirk. “Oh my God, I’m so done with this night!” I smack my hands against my very bare legs and stalk past them without regard for anyone in my way.
Screw them all!
I push through them, ignoring Shaye’s slurry protests. I hear a lot of voices battling behind me, but I ignore them all and elbow my way toward the door.
A strong arm snakes around my waist, yanking me backward, and I catch a whiff of that delicious scent once again. I try to pry the arm off of me, but he’s too strong. And dammit, I’m too weak, both physically and emotionally.
Max guides me into a dark corner, backing me against a wall. “Stop fighting me.”
I shove him away from me. “You’ve never been honest with me. I’m tired of sitting around, waiting to see whether or not you show up. Because you never show up! Even when you’re there, even when you are standing right fucking beside me, you’re not! Am I just someone to pass the time with until some skanky bitch comes along and rubs her ass all over you?”
“I know I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I do want to be your friend, Sloane.”
“Well, you don’t act that way.” I flip my hair and straighten to my full height, hoping it sends the message that I’m no longer taking shit from him, or anyone else, for that matter. “And I deserve better from my…friends.”
“You do. You deserve so much more,” he murmurs, his face dipping lower and lower.
My gut clenches as his breath tickles my cheek. Suddenly, everything becomes very hazy. I’m having a really hard time right now trying to remember why I’m so mad, and I don’t seem to care at this moment.
“Nothing about my life is normal, Sloane. I fooled myself into believing I can have a regular friendship with you, that I could at least give you that.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re dangerous, Sloane, because you turn me inside out and make me forget who I really am.”
“I know who you really are,” I hiss, recoiling as he leans in closer. I want him so badly, but this story doesn’t have a happy ending. We’ve gone down this road before. There’s no blissful destination, only a fiery crash.
“I know who you really are, too. You’re so good, so fucking perfect. I don’t want to taint you. And that’s exactly what would happen, don’t you get that?”
My breath hitches as his lips hover over mine. Dark eyes capture my soul, paralyzing every limb I know I should use to force him away from me. The heat in his gaze singes my insides, melting away the ice surrounding my thumping heart.
The scent of his cologne, mixed with liquor, intoxicates my senses, making me drunk with an insatiable desire I can’t even begin to quell. His fingertips navigate a path up my arms, my skin prickling with anticipation…until a flicker of anger eclipses his lustful expression.
He pulls away, and I immediately feel the emptiness creeping back into my heart. “You shouldn’t want me.”
Goddamn him! Is he kidding me right now? A shiver runs through me. “Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t want you or anything from you.”
“Good, because I don’t have it to give.”
He backs away, peering at something behind me in the darkness. The he shoves his hands deep into his pockets as he darts around a column and disappears.
Gone. He’s gone.
As if I’ve ever really had the power to keep him.
Max
“Please tell me you’re not fucking around with Layla.” Nico leads the way to the private elevator in his very exclusive, very private, and very kinky sex club in lower Manhattan a week after Shaye’s party.
“I already told you that nothing happened.” I rub the back of my neck, trying really hard to erase the images that have been plaguing me all week…Sloane lying naked on my bed, her long, lean legs falling open for me, giving me a half-hooded stare while she flicks her—
“How’d she end up at Shaye’s party, then?”
“I have no idea. I’ve tried to avoid her since Thanksgiving. I guess someone could have told her it was happening. She knows everyone at Culaccino, so she’d have been able to get in that night.” I stifle a groan, recalling how I’d wished it was the booze making me hallucinate, that it wasn’t really Layla scouting the crowd at the club, for me, no doubt. That was a shit show just waiting to happen. It’s why I forced myself away from Sloane. Layla can be a vindictive bitch when she wants to be. The last thing I wanted her to see was me kissing Sloane, even though it’s what I wanted more than anything. I’m pretty sure Sloane wanted it, too, but I managed to fuck things up again. I’ve sent her a bunch of texts this week, but I get one-word answers. Never a hey, wanna come over? Fuck it. I screwed myself pretty badly, and the irony that I haven’t actually gotten laid in what feels like forever doesn’t escape me.
Dammit, I miss her. I need her in my life. But she’s smart not to need me….smarter to stay away.
I follow Nico into the dimly lit elevator. The inside of the car is covered in dark-colored fabric, and leather benches line each wall, not that I’d never sit on any one of them. Christ only knows how many women he fucked in this elevator before he started dating my sister. I don’t even want to think about what he’s done to her in here. There’s already way too much that I’ve seen that I can’t ever unsee.
“Have you spoken to Sloane?”
“Nah. I think she’s had enough of me. Besid
es, she deserves someone who she can count on, not someone who is barely holding his own shit together.”
Nico narrows his eyes at me. “You will never move up in this family if you don’t show everyone that your strength doesn’t just come from baseball bats and bullets. You earned your title as a capo, and now you have a team of people who do the low-level shit and the skull smashing. Don’t get mixed up in it again. I won’t be able to pull you out of it next time.”
Shit, if I go down that path again, who even knows if there will be a next time? But my mind wanders back to her, always back to her.
I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count how many times a day I fantasize about fucking Sloane senseless. But she’s a good girl, someone who has her whole life ahead of her. She actually does good things for people.
I do bad things to people.
And she has no idea about any of it. My past is a taboo topic. Never discussed. Never fucking ever.
I risked too much on Thanksgiving, and she may never let me back inside. I may not have had her exactly the way I wanted her, but it’s better than nothing. Being with her calms me. It settles the rage, makes me forget the anger.
Even that night in the club…being so close to Sloane is hypnotic. She tempers the fury inside of me. God, how I wanted to taste those lips, and dammit, if Layla hadn’t been watching, I would have devoured them.
She makes me sane. I didn’t think anything could accomplish that.
And I’m sure everyone else I know shares that opinion.
Ding!
The elevator doors open. Electronica blares through the speakers on the lower level, the area of Club Culaccino reserved for the kinkiest fuckers in the tri-state area. Red, pink, and purple lights flash over the naked bodies writhing and grinding on the floor, against walls, and on couches.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve been back down here,” Nico says, guiding me out of the elevator.
“Yeah, well, you did fire me. I had to save face with the other guys.”
Nico pops me in the shoulder. “I apologized for that little misunderstanding, didn’t I?’
Betraying the Mob (The Mob Lust Series Book 3) Page 4