My mind flickered to something else.
Coming between them.
My nipples hardened instantly at the mere thought of it. Two of the most dangerous men I’d ever come across, naked, doing things to me.
But no, Cristian was an alpha male. An old-school alpha male. And alpha males were like toddlers, they yelled because they wanted to be listened to, they threw tantrums when they didn’t get their way, and they did not share.
Pity.
“You can tell Cristian,” I murmured, going up on my tip toes so our mouths were inches apart. “That I would rather eat dirt than eat with him.”
Felix’s eyes burned into mine. He smelled of soap and tobacco.
“He figured you might say something like that,” he commented dryly. His breath was warm and minty on my face. “So he had some antipasti sent up to your room. I’ll show you to it.”
“You’ll show me to my room?” I repeated with a grin. “So you are the bellhop?”
Felix didn’t reply.
“You can keep up with the smart mouth but you won’t like where it goes,” he commented, tone even.
It made desire race through me and a pit form in my stomach nonetheless.
I leaned forward even more so my mouth was almost touching his, and our bodies brushed ever so slightly. I could feel the breeze on the cleft of my ass, and I knew my dress had ridden up even more. If any of the guards happened to walk by right now, they’d get an eyeful.
“Where will it go, Felix?” I asked, my voice not much more than a whisper.
The crickets surrounding us were the only ones to answer. My heart was thumping in my ears, Felix staring into my soul with those empty eyes of his.
My body thrummed with excitement.
After a handful of seconds, Felix moved. But not in the direction I wanted. He went backwards, and I rocked back on my heels.
I scowled at him, and the corner of his mouth turned up. The evil smirk only made him that much more attractive.
He turned on his heel and walked toward the house. I stared at him for a moment, weighing up my options. The wine was almost gone. I was hungry. I needed to pee. Beyond that, I was fucking exhausted. It felt like I hadn’t slept for years. Adrenaline had been surging through my body since this morning, and now it was crashing.
Swigging a large mouthful of wine, I followed Felix back into the house. We did not pass the dining room, though I imagined Cristian sitting at some long, grand table, set with candles and meats in silver serving dishes, a glass of red wine in front of him. For a split second, I felt tempted to rescind all of my attitude. I imagined being a mob boss was rather lonely. People were afraid of him. With good reason.
With all the murders he committed and the women he forced to marry him, I couldn’t imagine he had any friends.
Any urges or curiosity I had to have dinner with him were quashed on that thought.
Felix did not speak to me as he walked us up the opulent staircase. The last time I descended them, I’d been certain I’d never return. Little did I know I’d be moving in here. That I’d be fucking engaged to the man.
Suddenly, my left ring finger felt heavy. I glanced at the diamond I was still wearing. There was a splatter of blood on the shiny surface, my knuckles red. Pete’s blood.
Without thinking, I yanked it off my finger and hurled it over the bannister. My aim must’ve been true or very fucking lucky as I hit a vase, and it tumbled to the floor, shattering.
Felix turned, glancing downward then up to me.
I shrugged in answer, daring him to challenge me.
He merely smirked, shaking his head before he walked on.
When we got to a long hallway, he turned right. Cristian’s bedroom was to the left, at the end of the hall, almost an entire wing of the house. The room he led me to was at the opposite side.
It was the opposite in every way.
Cristian’s bedroom was decorated in shades of black, from the furniture to the bedding. It was sleek, expensive, a rather on the nose statement about who he was.
The room they put me in was the antithesis of his. Everything was white. The California King with throw pillows and a plus comforter. The walls. The art abstract but expensive. The rug. The chairs in front of the fireplace.
My brows knitted and my hand fisted at my side. Cristian was taunting me. I’d suggested I was nothing like him earlier today, sworn I wasn’t. Sure, he couldn’t have put all of this together in less than twelve hours to make some kind of smug statement.
But that’s what it felt like.
The shades of white were glaring. Uncomfortable. Everything was pristine, pure. Without thinking, I upturned the bottle I was still holding, pouring the last of my wine all over the rug.