Page 16 of His Nephew's Ex
I’m stacking chairs on tables when the front door opens again, the chime cutting through the silence like a blade. My heart lurches against my ribs because I know, without looking, who’s entered my domain at this ungodly hour.
Simeone Codella steps into my bar like he owns it, which he probably does in every way that matters. He’s traded his expensive suits for dark jeans and a charcoal Henley that clingsto his broad chest, making him look less like a businessman and more like the predator he truly is.
“We’re closed,” I say without turning around, focusing on my task with mechanical precision. “Have been for twenty minutes.”
“I’m not here as a customer.”
His voice is rough silk that makes my skin prickle with unwanted awareness. I force myself to continue stacking chairs, to maintain the illusion that his presence doesn’t affect me like a match thrown into gasoline.
“Then what are you here as?”
“A man checking on his investment.”
The casual possessiveness in his tone makes my hands still on the chair I’m lifting. “Your investment?”
“My protection of you and this establishment.” He moves through the space with fluid grace, and I can feel his eyes cataloging every detail. “Making sure there are no lingering problems.”
“No problems.” I resume my closing routine, wiping down tables with more force than necessary. “Your nephew seems to have gotten the message.”
“Good.” The single word carries the weight of absolute authority. “Though that’s not the only reason why I’m here.”
Of course it isn’t. My pulse hammers against my throat as I risk a glance in his direction, immediately regretting the decision when I find him watching me with predatory intensity.
He’s beautiful in the way apex predators are beautiful. Full of controlled power and dangerous grace wrapped in a package designed to lure prey close enough to devour. Silver threads run through his dark hair like moonlight on water. His obsidian eyes hold secrets that could destroy kingdoms.
This man has killed people. Probably with his own hands. The thought should terrify me, should send me running for the nearest exit. But instead, for some reason that’s completely unknown to me, it sends heat pooling low in my belly, and I hate myself for the reaction.
“What’s the other reason?” I ask, proud that my voice remains steady.
“You know why I’m here,stellina.”
The endearment hits me like a physical caress, making my breath catch despite my best efforts to remain unaffected. He’s doing this deliberately, using that voice, that accent, those pet names to chip away at my defenses.
“No, actually I don’t,” I lie, continuing to clean tables that are already spotless.
“Don’t you?” He’s closer now, though I didn’t hear him move. “Then why does your pulse spike every time I speak? Why do your hands shake when you look at me?”
Because you’re dangerous,I want to scream.Because you’re everything I should run from, everything smart women avoid, everything that leads to heartbreak and destruction and headlines about missing persons.
Because despite knowing all of that, I can’t stop thinking about the way your mouth felt against mine.
“You’re imagining things,” I manage to say instead.
“Am I?” His laugh is dark honey, rich and intoxicating. “Look at me, Loriana.”
The command in his voice is soft but absolute. Against my better judgment, I turn to face him fully, immediately regretting the decision when I see the hunger blazing in his dark eyes.
“Tell me you haven’t thought about what happened in my office,” he says quietly. “Tell me you haven’t replayed that kiss in your mind every night for the last ten days.”
Heat floods my cheeks because he’s right. I have thought about it obsessively until the memory has carved grooves into my consciousness. The taste of whiskey on his tongue, the feel of his hands tangling in my hair, the way he kissed me like I was air and he was drowning.
“That was a mistake,” I whisper.
“Was it?” He takes a step closer, then another, backing me against the bar with slow, deliberate movements. “Because from where I stood, it felt like you were into it. Quite a lot if you don’t mind me saying so.”
My palms flatten against the mahogany surface behind me, seeking stability as he invades my space. This is dangerous territory, being alone with him in my closed bar, with no witnesses to whatever happens next.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I breathe.
