Page 27 of The Diávolos: Part One
“You know what? Fuck you,” I spit out, feeling humiliated.
I get up and head to the dance floor, leaving the guys and Aria behind, who is too busy talking to Dion to even notice. I don’t need them to have fun. I look around for Cassie and the other girls, but I can’t spot them.
I start dancing, running my hands from my neck all the way down my body as I keep my eyes trained on Evan. He’s looking at me with what appears to be insatiable hunger in his eyes. After all, he is the hunter and I’m the prey in this scenario. I ignore him and turn around and let the music carry me away.
His rejection made me angry. He managed to hurt my ego. Just because I don’t usually mess with guys doesn't mean I don’t want to feel wanted.
I see a man walking toward me from the corner of my eye, not the same guy from earlier, and I try to hide the smirk on my face. I’ll show Evan what he’s missing. I don’t know why I’m putting on a show, but the urge to be petty is strong, and I can’t stop myself.
The man comes up behind me and brings my body closer to his by grabbing onto my hips. His palm is flat against my waist, and I press my backside onto his dick, letting my head rest on his chest. I lift my arm to hook it around his neck and I start grinding against him as I look at Evan again, taunting him. I can see his jaw tick from here. The man's hands travel up my stomach and over my breasts and he gives one a little squeeze. Normally, I’d draw the line before this point, but this is just too damn perfect. If Evan doesn’t want me to touch him, I know plenty of men who would. I turn to face my dancing partner and I let my hands stroke his chest. I fake a moan to give him the green light to continue exploring and his other hand cups me between the legs, over my skirt. I slightly jerk away from him, but not enough for Evan to notice I’m not liking it. The whole point is for him to get jealous.
In one swift movement, Evan gets up from his seat and whispers something to the two men standing behind him. One of them reaches for his ear and speaks into the earpiece. Evan doesn’t waste another second to shove through the sea of bodies toward me. His eyes are engulfed with flames. When he reaches us, he forcefully pushes the man away from me. The music is pounding in my head and throughout my body, and people are becoming blurry. I have to blink a few times to clear my vision. My drunkenness suddenly hits me like a ton of bricks.
“Keep your hands off her, motherfucker,” Evan seethes. The guy staggers back, his eyes wide with fear as he backs away quickly. Two bouncers grab him from behind before he can scurry away, and he tries to fight their hold, his legs swinging as he yells, “What the fuck, man? Let me go! I don’t even know this chick. We were just dancing, man!”
“Well, it’s your unlucky day, son of a bitch. You decided to dance with the wrong fucking girl,” Evan responds, his eyes darkening by the second. I can’t seem to move at all. I just stare at the scene unrolling in front of me. My eyes bounce from Evan to the guy hanging off the doormen’s arms and I'm suddenly really scared for this man’s life. I don’t want the blood of an innocent bystander on my hands. It’s as if all the alcohol has suddenly seeped out of my body and I sober up, fast.
Right as I’m about to touch Evan’s arm, the music stops and all the clubgoers ‘aw’ and ‘boo’ over the disruption. He clenches his fists, and his eyebrows lower. I can no longer see his blacked-out eyes through the narrow slits. His lips curl inward as he seethes the next three words with a deadly venom, “Everybody. Out. Now.”
My body shivers and the blood drains out of my body at the sound of his voice. The crowd scatters like mice and the two security guards holding up my dance partner drag him away.SHIT.Where are they taking him? I look around for Aria and spot her at the table being held back by Dion and Xander. She tries to fight Dion, but he’s too big and overpowers her just by wrapping his arm around her waist. He lifts her up in the air like a sack of potatoes, throws her over his shoulder, and takes her to the stairs as she screams and thrashes against his back.
Evan cleared the whole goddamn club because ofme?What the hell did you do, Ang?
It’s just me and Evan on the dance floor now. I turn back to him and he’s staring at me. His eyes burn as he sinks his hand into my hair, grabbing a fistful, and pulls my head back hard. He cups my jaw with his other hand and brings my face closer to his. Our mouths are almost touching, and I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips.
“Is this what you want, Angelica?” he asks, hissing the words through his teeth. “You wanted us to touch?”
He pulls harder, nearly ripping the hair out of my head. My knees buckle, but he holds me up with an arm around my waist. The pain is enough to block any words from coming out of my mouth.
“Don’t underestimate what I’m capable of,” he adds. “I’m taking you home, right fucking now. And we’ll deal with your little experiment later.”
He lets go of me, grabs my arm, and guides me off the dance floor toward the back door.
“W–wait! I have to tell Aria I’m leaving.”
“Don’t worry, Dion will let her know. She’ll be fine.”
We step outside, at the back of the club. He takes his keys out of his pocket and unlocks a black Tesla. “Get in,” he orders as he walks to the passenger side door to open it for me.
I walk toward the car, but I start tipping sideways. I’m so dizzy and I almost feel sick. I shouldn’t have drunk so much. I never take shots.What was I thinking?Evan runs over to me and catches me right before I fall.
“Christé mou. How much did you have to drink tonight?”
“Too much.Burp.”Oh, God. This is getting worse by the minute.
He places his arms behind my legs and back, hoists me up and takes me to the car, carefully sitting me down in the passenger seat. The inside smells like him. Cedarwood, mint, and musk. It immediately gives me butterflies.Or maybe I’m just about to throw up.He sits in the driver’s seat and backs out of the parking lot.
I settle into the deep, red leather seat and turn to look at Evan. His jaw is clenched. I just want to reach out and touch the stubble on his chin. Everything about him is attractive. Even the way he holds the steering wheel. He notices me staring at him, but he keeps his eyes on the road. I extend my left arm and start climbing my fingers up his bicep until I reach the nape of his neck, and I glide a finger down the side. He lets out a low growl.
“Angelica,” he says sternly, sounding like a professor reprimanding his student.
“Yes, sir?” I reply.
He grips the steering wheel tighter and lets out a long breath.
“What do you want?” he growls.
“Touch me,” I say, breathlessly.
