Page 55 of Extradition (Mobsters + Billionaires 1)
“Why?” His eyes are wary, and it’s almost enough to distract me from wondering what it’d feel like to run my tongue across his pretty muscles.
“Rand?”
I snap my eyes back to his. Focus, you idiot.
“Um…you weren’t yourself at dinner.”
He flexes his muscles—more like a flinch—and cocks his head to the side. “Not myself? We’ve had a handful of meals together.”
“And several very intense days,” I say, pushing back. “Today especially. But something happened tonight between gaming and dinner, something that made you upset. I asked Grayson for details, and he told me you might be having family troubles. I just wanted to ask if you’re okay and see if I can offer any help.”
“You wanna help me?” The incredulity in his voice stings. “Mr. Billionaire Daddy’s Boy actually cares about helping someone outside of his one-person bubble?”
“Hey.”I level him with a glare, and he looks off to the side, jaw flexing. “Regardless of what I said before, I think we are friends now, and friends don’t do that.”
“Friends, okay.” He laughs, scratching his bare chest, still looking off to the side. He takes a deep breath and briefly glances at me. “I’m sorry. I’m not good company tonight.”
He goes to close his bedroom door, but nope. Not gonna happen. I stick my foot in the door and press it open. “What’s going on, Joe?”
“Can you just…give me some fucking space or something? I will be better company tomorrow, I swear.”
Yeah, he’s not getting out of it that easily. “No. We were having fun before dinner, and now something’s wrong. Out with it.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, pain lancing across his face. After a moment, he opens them and finally speaks. “My uncle knew that there would be people waiting for us in the park, and he didn’t do anything to warn me. And he tried to get me to give up the details on your security team.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“What can I do?” I ask, stepping closer to him, desperate to make it better, to be of some use to him.
A shadow of a grin tilts up the corner of his mouth, but he schools himself.
“Tell me,” I demand. “There’s nothing too small or too big.”
He shakes his head, frustration playing out on his features. “I probably just need to punch something. Or fuck someone,” he says, the word fuck coming out on a low growl. He finally looks me in the eye, a dark smile playing on his lips. “Maybe I can get Grayson to ring up one of your discreet hookups.”
His words feel like a gut punch, and I step back as if he’s actually punched me.
“Oh.” He raises his brow, amused.
“What do you mean, oh?” I ask, jutting my chin out.
“Nothing.”
“What?” When he doesn’t answer right away, I push his chest. “What?”
“You’re jealous,” he states plainly, as though it’s obvious.
Heat floods my cheeks. “I am not. I don’t have anything…I came back here because you looked sad over dinner, and I felt sorry for you. There’s no jealousy. I can have anyone I want. I don’t get jealous.”
He looks at my crotch, raising his brow at the obvious bulge.
A frustrated grunt flies out of my mouth. “Fuck off,” I mutter, turning to leave. He’s in a shitty mood, and I don’t need him accusing me of jealousy.
I mean, I’m clearly jealous, but that’s none of his fucking business.
I barely take a step before he yanks me back, one arm pinning my chest and another at my throat. “Don’t you dare tell me to fuck off,” he growls, his hard body a furnace against mine. “Not after everything I’ve sacrificed for you.”
