“I was in a flower freezer, gringo. Don’t test me on ice.”
His smile dies.
Too fast.
The room changes.
I hate that too. I hate that every joke has a trapdoor under it now. Every bit of banter can drop us straight into concrete, white roses, and blood. I put the coffee down untouched.
Shady stays by the counter.
He doesn’t move closer.
That is new.
The distance feels like a hand on my throat and air in my lungs at the same time.
“I saw the post,” he says.
“The one about me calling out Carmen at Eclipse?”
“Yeah.”
“The promoters are on my side.”
“You looked mean as hell.”
“I looked correct.”
“Yeah.” His mouth twitches again. “Mean and correct. Terrifying combo.”
“Carmen’s been quiet since.” I lean against the island and fold my arms. “Did you come here to compliment my social media strategy?”
“No.”
“Did Diablo send you?”
“No.”
“Did Darling?”
“She told me if I hurt you again, she’d feed my ear to Disco.”
“She loves me.”
“She scares me.”
“She should.”
He looks at me, and the smartass fades. “I came because you told me to bring better answers next time.”
My pulse moves in my wrists, under the bandages. My body is tired, bruised, and still somehow aware of him in the worst way. The man fills space like a threat and a promise. He should not look good in my apartment. He should look wrong against all the glass and polished stone.
He doesn’t.
He looks like the shadow I invited in and now have to decide whether to fear or use.
I take the lid off the coffee and breathe in sweet, dark caffeine. “Then talk.”