Page 30 of Shield

“Whoa there,” the stranger says, his grin a blur in my alcohol-fogged vision. My buzz, which I thought had burned off the second I saw Matti, swoops back in and takes over my brain. The guy’s face is indistinct, but his teeth are very white.

“Let go of her,” a voice growls behind me. I know who it is without turning around.

I lurch away from the stranger, ready to forge forward, butMatti is faster. His arm clamps around my waist, yanking me back against his solid chest.

“Nope,” he snaps, and spins me around so I’m facing him then throws me over his shoulder before I can get a word out. “MOVE!”

People must obey him because, unlike me, he doesn’t bounce off bodies or get stuck in the crowd as I desperately reach for the hem of my dress and try to pull it down over my ass, screaming at him to put me down. Within seconds, he’s across the club and stepping through the sliding glass doors onto the terrace, where the night air slaps me with a cold blast. He lets me slide down the front of him, steadying me with an infuriating grin when I wobble on my heels.

I’m drunker than I thought because the second my feet touch the ground, I take advantage of his unguarded stance and punch him square in the stomach. Even through the alcoholic haze, it hurts me way more than it hurts him.

“Ow, fuck,” I hiss, shaking my throbbing hand. His abs are like granite. “What the hell do you have under there? Titanium? Jesus.”

He smirks, and fury detonates through me. I lift my hand to slap him, but he catches my wrist midair, raising his eyebrows at me. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? CALM? DOWN? When in the history of the fucking world has telling someone to calm down actually worked? Fuck you, Matti. FUCK. YOU.”

“Fuck me? If that’s what you came here for, kitten, you didn’t have to dress like a whore to get my attention. But you have it.”

His tone is so smug, and I refuse to look at the smirk on his face, keeping my eyes about a foot lower. Bad idea.His chiseled torso is glistening with sweat, and his jeans are slung low on his hips, showing off that lickable deep V that disappears into his waistband. Fuck, his body was built for sex.

Heat begins to creep through me, flushing my cheeks and I jerk my gaze back up to his face, noticing the backward cap, the way the streetlight highlights his grizzled jaw line. Jesus Christ, I’m way too drunk to maintain my composure around this ridiculously beautiful man.

His eyes sparkle, and he licks his lips, sending a surge of electricity through me. I drop my gaze again, back to his chest—and that’s when I see it. Bloody claw marks. A red smear on his neck. I step toward him, squinting my blurry eyes, looking closer.

It’s fucking lipstick.

“You’re disgusting,” I growl. “And she’s fucking perfect for you.”

“What are you talking about?” Confusion flickers across his face before he scowls at me.

“Where do I start? Lipstick on your neck, her fucking claw marks on your chest. Did you tell Olivia to bring me here just so you could flaunt your fucking rich bitch girlfriend in my face?”

Every time I exhale, I feel like I’m going to vomit, a combination of too many shots with Olivia and sheer exhaustion with the man in front of me, not to mention my inability to get him out of my brain for more than thirty seconds at a time. Meanwhile, he’s fucking the Wicked Witch of Tribeca, apparently right on the dance floor by the looks of it. Fucking perfect.

He rubs his hand on his neck, then looks at it, grimacingwhen he sees the bright red lipstick on his fingertips. “It’s not what you think.”

I roll my eyes and feel my stomach roll with them. “Said every dipshit caught cheating ever.”

“Cheating?” His voice is a blade, slicing right through me, and I blanch, trapped by the dark intensity of his stare. “We’re not together, kitten, so I can’t cheat on you, and if you think I’m the type of man to betray his woman, you don’t know me at all,” he sneers.

I have to step back to steady myself, almost knocked down by his words. His woman. He would never betray his woman. But I’m not her, so that doesn’t apply to me. Another wave of nausea washes over me.

When I don’t respond, he bends down to my level, looking me in the eye. “I told you to stay the fuck away from me, Siena. What are you even doing here?”

“Of course, I see. It’s my fault, right? My fault for showing up and catching you—” I stop myself.

What the fuck am I saying? He’s not mine. He made that very clear. And I’m way too drunk to be having this conversation. I hold up my hands, trying not to fall as the terrace seems to tilt.

It’s impossible to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “Wait. I’m sorry. Forgive me. You’re right. It’s not cheating. Because you have made it very clear all along that you are a fuckingassholewho apparently likes to fuck me and a line of other females waiting their turn for the ‘honor’ of sucking your dick.”

I say the last words mockingly, putting honor in air quotes, and stumble back.

He grabs me and holds me upright, his lip twitching. “Niceto know you think it’s an honor to suck my dick. Why are you here?”

“Not here for you, asshole,” I say, trying to wrench my arms out of his grip. He doesn’t let go. “Olivia invited me. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t know I’d be at the building I own? The building I live in?”

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