Page 65 of Lourdes & the Mafia
Kane?
I don’t know how I feel about Kane. He’s rigid, rude, a total fucking dick.
But I won’t deny that there’s something intriguing about him all the same.
“Why do you hate me?” I blurt out suddenly, drawing his attention to me.
“What?”
“Why do you hate me?” I repeat, much more slowly.
“I don’t.”
“Liar.”
His face morphs into an expression of displeasure. “Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know.”
He finally turns in his seat towards me, giving me his full attention. “You’re wrong.”
I snort. “Right. Ever since we’ve met, you’ve been a huge asshole to me with no remorse. What did I do to you?” I lower my voice, leaning closer to him, to which he immediately leans away from. “Is it because of what happened in Lorenzo’s room?”
“Shut the fuck up,” he snipes. “Don’teverfucking talk about that in public if you know what’s good for you.”
I blink, jerking back at his complete rudeness. Well, fuck. It’s not like I know what happened at the time, anyway. I was afraid and confused. All I know is that he touched me and then went flying back. It’s not like I made that happen. I don’t have that kind of power, but it’s obviously a sore spot for him.
I wonder if that’s why he’s acting mean around me.
Well, what the fuck ever.
It sounds like he’s got a stick up his ass, and if he’s insecure about something, that’s his problem. Not mine.
I down the rest of my drink and stand, going close to Kane, close enough that only a whisper separates our bodies from touching. He visibly stills at the closeness, ceases breathing, his angry gaze all but penetrating mine. I lean closer, close enough where our lips are nearly touching but not quite.
“Fuck you, Kane,” I tell him. “Fuck you and your anger and your hang-ups. If you’re pissed, that’s a personal fucking problem, but don’t ever disrespect me or take your anger out on me again.” I pull away, glaring at him with as much fervor as he’s glaring at me. “Now, if you want to sit here and wallow in your assholery, fine. But me? I want to dance.” I step away. “If you want to dance with me, you’re welcome to do so.Ifyou can keep your fucking mouth shut.”
I leave him sitting there, stunned, as I make my way to the dance floor. A slow beat Spanish song begins to play and I stop among the sea of bodies and start to move. The music overtakes me and my hips begin to sway along with the beat. My eyes close and I dance. I dance as if there isn’t some psycho after me. I dance like I’m putting on a show.
And maybe I fucking am.
Maybe I’m dancing for Kane, though Dios knows I shouldn’t. He’s rude and insufferable, and I’ve demanded respect… yet…
He’s sexy.
He’s protected me.
He’s killed for me.
I won’t deny that that’s something I’ve always wanted.
It’s what Naomi has; someone to bend and break the law for her. I want to have someone want me. Now, I don’t know what Kane feels for me or what I want him to feel for me, but I dance for him regardless, because I can feel his eyes on me, trailing after my every move. It’s a battle of seduction, me against his anger, and in the aftermath I’m hoping it can be turned into something else entirely.
Passion.
I swivel my hips, turning, peeking my eyes open to find him in the same spot. Darkness pulses around him, and yet I see him clearly, just like he sees me. He watches with an angry gaze, his glass in hand, and desire written on his features.
And when he slams back the rest of his drink and all but tosses the glass away before standing and prowling in my direction?
