Page 148 of Tangled Like Us
“Yeah.” My muscles are tensed.
He should be in LA. It’s too early for him to be home for Christmas since it’s still October. I’m about to clarify to Jane, but Tony catches sight of me.
“Moretti!” He grins and saunters over with outstretched arms. “I thought I might bump into you.” He gestures to my chest. “Heard you’re the talk of South Philly these days.” South Philly sounds likeSow-Philly.
“What are you doing here?” I ask bluntly. I’m not shooting the shit or playing patty-fucking-cake with someone I can’t stand
“Flew in from LA ‘bout an hour ago. All anyone has been asking me is have you seen Thatcher and Jane?” He’s still approaching us. Still talking a mile-a-minute. “Should’ve known you two were a fake couple. She’s not anything close to your type.”
Jane shifts uneasily beside me.
Goddammit.
Lethal agitation and hate tighten my eyes on Tony.He just told Jane that she’s not my type.And on top of that, I’m concerned.
Because he shouldn’t know I’m fake dating Jane.
He was told.By who?
Tony stops short of us, his gold cross thumping against his chest. He sticks his hands in his green aviator jacket.
I need to fill in Jane, so I introduce him first. “This is Tony Ramella.”
Realization washes over her face. She’s smart, and I don’t need to add more for her to connect the pieces. “I see—”
“Moretti and I go way back,” Tony cuts her off. Which is a fucking sin in my book. “We both went to Saint Joseph’s High School, same grade. Same age. We used to ride our bikes down the street together.”
“When we were eight,” I clarify. “We’re not friends.” We haven’t been since early childhood. We grew apart like most kids do.
Jane slides off her boxing gloves. “You’re Michelina’s grandson.” She met Michelina Ramella in the fabric store last month and recognized his last name. “Your grandmas play cards together.”
He looks her over with quirked, smug lips. “My grandma said she met you.”
“She’s a sweet woman.” Jane sounds more guarded than usual, and she has to be feeding off my mistrust. She hasn’t homed in on hisstrikinglight-blue eyes. What most people usually notice first about him.
Tony cocks his head at Jane. “Not sweeter than you—”
“You’re not flirting with my client,” I cut him off now.
“Is that how it—”
“Yeah, that’s how it is,” I growl. “I don’t know why you’re here or how you know about the fake dating op, but one thing’s certain—you don’t know me and you sure asfuckinghell don’t know my type. If you did, you’d realize it’s the girl right next to me.”
Jane presses her fingers to her lips.
My pulse is hammering my eardrums, and the gym—the gym has gone quiet. Bodyguards heard that minor declaration.
My jaw tenses, tendons pulled taut in my neck. I’m not backing down from Tony. I don’t need to unfuck a thing. As long as I act like I didn’t just profess eternal love and devotion to myclient—she’s fine.
We’re fine.
Tony motions to me. “You’ve only been with girls over six feet.”
I almost roll my eyes. “That’sBanks.” My brother has only been in serious relationships with tall girls.
“You’re basically the same person.” He’s serious, and this isn’t the first time I’ve heard that. Not just from him.
You’re the same person.
