Page 29 of Saint Valentine

He rested his forehead against mine.

“You’ll wear what I pick, Aria. You’ll look beautiful. But you won’t wear this.”

I didn’t argue.

Not because I didn’t want to.

Because I couldn’t form words.

He called the attendant back and told her what he wanted.

She returned with another dress—something more traditional. A fitted bodice, a flowing skirt.

It was beautiful, but it wasn’t me.

But I agreed to it.

For the sake of avoiding another fight.

For the sake of keeping him from kissing me again.

The whole time, that kiss occupied my mind.

When we left, his hand slipped into mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

I couldn’t help but wonder—

Did I object as much as I was objecting?

Chapter fourteen

Saint

The backroom of the restaurant was dim, smoke hung heavy in the air, curling up from a few cigars scattered on the small table. Whiskey sat in glasses. This wasn’t the kind of place you came to for comfort—it was where deals got sealed and bodies disappeared without a trace.

I’d rather not be there. I had to leave Aria heavily guarded. But I think I was wearing her down. Killing the Dillinger’s had shifted the way she looked at me, the way she spoke to me.

She still claimed she hated me, but when she kissed me back in that dressing room, it didn’t feel like it...

The taste of her was burned into my mind.

She didn’t want to, but she liked it.

I wondered what else she’d like.

My dick started to harden at the thought of kissing her someplace else. I’d start with—

“Excuse me, sir—”

A blonde waitress bumped into me. I scowled, barely glancing at her as I stepped around, nodding stiffly.

Luciano was already seated when I walked into the private room, his glasses sitting next to him on the table, eyes fixed on his glass of bourbon. He didn’t look up when I entered, but I knew he was aware of my presence. Luciano always knew.

I slid into the seat across from him, my chair scraping the wood floor.

His eyes met mine, cold as ever.

“You called,” I muttered, my tone low, a thread of irritation edging through. “Even though I told you I was pulling away three days ago.”

---