Page 17 of Devil's Iris
Is that his type?
My heart plummets straight to my stomach, dragging every ounce of energy with it.
What is this feeling? Jealousy?
No. That can’t be right. We’re not… anything.You can’t be jealous over someone who was never yours to begin with.
Just because he helped me out a couple of times, I thought I was the Juliet to his Romeo? God, I actually called him Romeo. Cringe.What a moron.
Sure, watching him deck that perverted creep was satisfying as hell, but that doesn’t mean Ilikehim. I don’t evenknowthe man.
But then his eyes sweep the ballroom, and somehow—impossibly—they find mine through the crack in the door. My heart launches itself up from my stomach right into my throat, and begins thudding.
In a room packed with hundreds of people, his gaze keeps finding mine like we are magnets.
It’s not fate, you idiot. It’s coincidence.
I stumble backwards from the door, my face burning with shame, then do what I should have done in the first place—I leave. Outside, the cool air hits my flushed cheeks, and I let out a shaky breath.
That walk home is going to be hell.
I sigh and climb down the stairs, choosing the front entrance instead of slinking out the back door like some servant. What else can Fred do? Double fire me? Is that even athing? My little rebellious streak fizzles out as reality crashes back down.
Fuck. Two hours of pay. That’s all I have to show for tonight’s humiliation. Two measly hours that won’t last us more than a day.
What am I going to do?
The sound of a door closing behind me has me glancing back curiously, and I nearly trip over my own feet when I see Romero walking out, his long strides eating up the distance between us. He came to find me?
Even as I try to tell myself not to be delusional, I stop walking, waiting for him to catch up.
“What? You got bored of mingling with the rich and powerful already? Dinner’s about to start.” The words come out sharp, all my confusion and frustration bleeding through.
“Iamrich and powerful. And I’m not hungry. Not for food anyway.”
Did… did he just check me out when he said that? No, I must be dreaming.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, well. Good night.” But my feet stay planted. I don’t move an inch.
His lips curl into a slow smile that has my tongue tying up and my stomach fluttering. It’s not the same smile he gave that woman back in the ballroom. This one is softer, more genuine, and actually reaches his eyes. It gives me the illusion that I’m special.
The Maybach pulls up in the driveway, drawing both our eyes. “Come on.” He nods towards the car and starts walking.
I hesitate, my chest tightening. Isn’t this exactly what I wanted when I went to peek into that ballroom? For him to see me and offer me a ride? But now that it’s happening, panic floods my system. Being alone with him in that car feels dangerous in ways I can’t explain. Not because he’ll hurt me—Idon’t think he would—but because I might do something catastrophically stupid. Like… what if I try to kiss him?
I can’t be trusted alone with him.
“You coming,bellezza?” He turns back, waiting.
Bellezza. The word sends heat rushing through my veins. I googled it after the first time he called me that—it meansbeauty. At the time, I could tell myself it was just a casual endearment, just something he said because he didn’t know my name. But he knows it now. So… what’s his excuse?
It feels like I’m floating as I walk towards him. He gives me that smile again—the real one—and my heart kicks into overdrive, making me a little dizzy.Shit, what if I have a heart attack before I get home?At twenty–three, that would be just my luck.
He opens the back door for me, and I slip in without thinking. As soon as I sink into the leather seat, the world outside just… fades. The door closes with a soft click—no harsh slam, no jarring noise—and suddenly it’s just me, wrapped in cool, expensive air. The interior carries the faintest smell of leather and something warm like polished wood and quiet luxury. A scent I’ve noticed around Romero.
A moment later, the door on the other side opens, and when he slides in beside me, the scent intensifies, curling around me, tightening in my chest and making my head spin.God, why does he smell so good? What cologne does he use?I want to lean into him, to press my face against his neck and breathe him in. The thought is so inappropriate it makes my face flame.
The engine hums to life with a low purr, and we roll away from the mansion’s driveway like we’re not even touching the ground.
