Page 26 of Spring Break with a Mafia Prince
But seeing the evidence of baggies of drugs laid out around me was a bit more than I expected to handle straight up this morning. Apparently, I had more than one cherry popped in the last twenty-four hours. The girl didn’t seem to notice, though as she led me through to the other side of the room. “You take too long.” She pouted.
I mean, maybe that worked on guys? Not that I’d have a clue. I looked around. “I can just leave this here, and?—”
“Oh, the cleaners will be in soon. Don’t leave anything that might be lost.” She giggled.
I frowned. “That’s one hell of a stereotype.”
Her giggles stopped. “What a way to announce you’re a bitch.”
O-kay.“Which way is the Falcon's room, please?”
“I’m sure you can find it.” She flounced off through another side door that slammed and locked—audibly—with a sharp click.
I was left standing alone in the trashed living area.
Turning in circles, I found a corridor at the other end of the room that led back the way I came just underneath it instead. Doors lined either side of the short corridor—I was sure that had another name on a boat—but none were open. I reached the second one and knocked before my nerve failed me.
“Falcon?”
Nothing. That one was locked. I tried the next, then one on the other side. It opened. I pushed it gently, poking my head inside. “Falcon?—”
His head came up from where he stood unbuttoning his shirt on the other side of the bed. If he hadn’t been wearing the same shirt and pants as the night we spent together, I might not have recognized him. Or the clothing.
Red that wasn’t paint splattered his shirt, reaching up to stain his cheek. His hair was wild and bruising covered his jaw. Along with what might have been dirt. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows and those were covered in blood too.
Because we all knew he wasn’t cosplaying.
I took a step back, but his eyes locked on me.
“Bella?” His voice rasped like gravel.
“I—”
I managed another half a step, trying to close the door that stubbornly refused to budge before it was pulled open abruptly from the inside. His hand closed around my wrist as he yanked me into his room and slammed the door shut, locking me in with him.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I stared up at him for so long that my mouth figured out I hadn’t answered him, but all my mind registered was the horror before me.
You do know what I do?
He’d been right to check in with me. Knowing and seeing were different things. The way he wore someone else’s blood so casually terrified me, but worse than that I was…
Curious.
And that scared me even more.
What was wrong with me that Iwantedto know about his life of his? I shouldn't. No normal person wanted this. And yet as he caged me in against the door with his body, his bloodied shirt hanging half open as he leaned over me, my heart raced for all the wrong reasons.
“Answer me, Bella,” he softened his voice sweetly for me, and I wanted to cry.
“Don’t do that,” I whispered. “Don’t apologize for who you are whenthisis who you are.”
“You’re terrified of me.” His voice flattened out. “I can see it in your face.”
I ignored that statement. We could work on reality later. “I came to return this.” I proffered the lost jacket. “It has your wallet inside. I thought you might need it today.”
He studied me and made no move to take the jacket, the only thing that made a barrier between us. His arms flexed over my head and I realized just how much muscle the man arched over me possessed.
