Page 72 of Caruso
He interests me the most.
I fall silent, my mind spinning with this information. Jason is here. In Vegas. It may not be him. It probably isn’t him; the coincidence is too unbelievable.
Why is he here? Did he discover it’s where I am? Did he come here to find me?
I am on edge, my fingers tangling in my lap as I attempt to focus. Tommaso is taking me to Jason. I shouldbe grateful, but there is something telling me he has an ulterior motive for this.
Matteo never mentioned it last night. He wants me to tread carefully around his brother, but why exactly?
So many thoughts are running through my mind, but one in particular has spiked my pulse and heated my blood. Tommaso is ticking every box I have. He is a dark enigma, slightly scary, gruff and frankly rude. Belligerent, secretive and unforthcoming, and yet the man himself is so beautiful it hurts to look at him.
His hair is as black as ink and is swept back with not a strand out of place. His dark eyes spill venom, and he is clean shaven revealing his cut-glass jaw. Like his brothers, he is well built, his muscles straining against the open-necked black silk shirt he appears to love. A smattering of dark hair mixes with the ink on his chest, and his hands alone could wrestle a bear. He wears heavy silver rings on each hand and an expensive gold watch that sits heavy on his wrist. He is surly, bad tempered but stares at me with acute hunger, and I can only imagine how he would eat me up and spit out my carcass if he ever got his hands on me.
But Jason is here.
My heart softens and lights with excitement. The only friend I have ever had, the one man I physically ache to find.
What will happen if it’s him? Will my life change again on the turn of a meeting?
So many possibilities crash through my mind, and then the car stops suddenly, and the door flies open, andI stare out at the entrance to the Palazzo hotel and two of Tommaso’s guards, waiting ominously for us to vacate the car.
“Are you ready?”
His deep voice commands me, and I nod as Tommaso slips from the car, pausing at the door, extending his hand to mine.
That act alone shocks me more than anything because he prefers not to touch.
As my hand settles in his, it shocks me. Electricity sizzles between us as his touch supercharges every nerve in my body. My eyes lift to his, and I note the deepening emotion in them as he stares at me with all the power of a god, one who could ruin me with a snap of his fingers.
How does he have so much power over me? It’s not like anything I experience with his brothers. Different somehow, and as he pulls me from the car, he almost appears irritated by me, and I shrivel up inside. I am no match for him, and we both know it.
I wish I had dressed up for the occasion. That is apparent as we enter the five-star luxury of The Artemis’s main competition. The dress code is smarter, more refined, and Tommaso looks as if he belongs here—I do not.
I appear like a scruffy waif beside him. My casual clothing has no place in his life. He deserves a refined woman to walk by his side. Someone with their shit together, aloof, beautiful and poised. A model perhaps. Somebody who basks in the public eye and welcomes the attention. The perfect distraction for Tommaso. Keepingthe attention focused on her, away from him—just as he likes it.
I am the hired help, and this is the first time I have really felt that. I don’t measure up, and the slightly disdainful glances as they settle on me sharpen the knives in my vanity. I attempt to shrink smaller, disappear altogether, and as I hang back, I’m surprised when Tommaso pulls me roughly by his side and hisses, “You will walk tall beside me. Own your space here and defy anyone who thinks differently.”
I do as he says, standing a little taller, more confident even, acting as if I do truly belong here, even though its evident I don’t.
I can be whoever I want to be for sure, but a match for Tommaso, even I’m not that deluded.
“Where are we going?”
I’m impatient for knowledge now I’m aware it concerns me.
“I have word he is dining at the Crucible. We will surprise him.”
“What is the Crucible?” It’s nine-thirty in the morning, and that sounds too grand for breakfast.
“A restaurant, obviously.”
He shakes his head but grips my hand a little tighter, and for some reason that settles my nerves.
I wonder if there is a lighter side to this man. I doubt I will ever see it, but one can hope.
We reach the restaurant, and the server on door duty appears a little flustered when she notes our arrival, and I don’t blame her. Tommaso is a threat just by breathing,and flanked by security, she must wonder who the hell we are.
“A table for two.”
