As Vivienne glides away, I wipe a finger under my eyes and I make a decision. I’m leaving this place. I won’t be taken for a fool any longer. I’ll look for nursing work first thing tomorrow, and I’ll figure out another way to pay for my father’s care.
Then the curtain parts and my blood pumps like it just woke up.
My body knows before my brain registers a thing.
Fiero has entered the lounge.
I look up against my better judgement and see him approach, all sharp jaw, solid muscle and smooth gait, flanked either side by Remo and Brando.
His eyes find me instantly.
But mine…
Mine turn away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Pfeiffer
After ten minutesof avoiding his watchful gaze, I feign a headache and take Vivienne’s advice to call it a night.
It’s not entirely untrue. Since I learned that he’d had taken Vivienne as his plus one because hedidn’t wantto take anyone else, my head has pounded. I feel stupid but it doesn’t stop my gaze drifting to him like he’s my home.
Of course I mean nothing to Il Diavolo. All that shit about him killing three men who just happened to have hurt me—it was nonsense.
He’s a killer. All he needs is the smallest excuse.
And that’s what I was. An excuse. And small.
I feel the heat of his gaze on my back as I leave, but somehow I manage not to turn around. Instead, I put my head down and walk fast.
The nights are turning chilly so I hug my coat around my body as I walk quickly to my car. Despite this place being surrounded by armed security, the Bellucci’s have enemies. I’ve already seen two Irishmen lose their lives because one of themthought I might mean something to Il Diavolo, I don’t want anyone else trying their dumb luck.
I’m almost at my car when I hear someone running up behind me. My lungs seize as I spin around, expecting to see a weapon come down on my head. No one runs that fast unless they need something.
My breath shakes as Fiero bears down on me. “Where are you going?”
I tip my chin defiantly, even though my heart is hammering. “Home.”
“Your father…” he breathes. “Is he okay?”
His concern in this moment makes me want to cry. I mean something to him, I’m sure of it. So why can’t he be normal around me in public? Why can’t he treat me with more respect?
“He’s fine.” I sigh and look off to the side. The more I engage my eyes with his, the deeper I sink, and tonight I need to swim.
“What’s wrong?” His tone is unbearably soft.
I shrug, not meeting his eyes. “Nothing. Can I go now?”
He wraps a large hand around my arm. “Pfeiffer. What is it?”
I jerk backward, the pain and tension putting me on the very edge.
“I made a mistake,” I say, throwing my arms out to the side, shaking him off. “I read into something I shouldn’t have, and now I feel stupid. My head is pounding, so I’m going home.”
He catches my arm again, his brow furrowed. “Does this mistake have something to do with me?”
“Yes!” I cry, fully exasperated and just wanting to get in my car and leave.