“I have my father’s. How do you think I pay for Abigail’s schooling?” I say, referring to my sister. “I probably have more money than you.”
“So why did Lucas need to buy into your little bookshop, then?”
I scoff at his choice of words, my little bookshop.
“I was still waiting for the money to come through when I met him, and it seemed like a good fit. Lucas is a good man.”
Joey throws his head back and laughs. His hands clutch his stomach as his laughter picks up and becomes louder and louder.
I cross my arms over my chest as I wait for him to finish.
I hate to say it, but his laugh is attractive.
How is that possible?
For a laugh to be attractive?
I’m not even sure.
I don’t like this man, not one bit. And if I had a choice, I would never marry him. I’ve seen what marriage does to people, and it’s not good, that’s for sure.
His gaze drops to find mine again, and his crystal-clear blue eyes narrow as his laughter abruptly stops. “Lucas is anything but a good man, even his girl knows that.”
“I like Chanel,” I remark, smiling.
“Seems you have terrible taste. Not in Chanel, but definitely in Lucas. Lucas is the worst of us, and that’s saying something. Stay away from him.” He steps past, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging open in disbelief.
“You will not, not for a single second…” I seethe, stomping toward him, and as he stops and turns back to me, my finger jabs into his chest, “… think you can tell me who and what I can and can’t be around. You are not my father, and even if you were, look where that got him,” I add with a smile. “I’ll slit your throat in your sleep if you think you can tell me what to do.” I remove my finger and step back, gesturing toward the door. “You can leave now. Have a nice night, Joey.” A small smirk tugs at his lips, but he doesn’t move a muscle. “I said… you can leave now.”
“No. I have a better idea. Why don’t you come to mine so you can see your new room?”
“All the better to slit your throat in?” I taunt.
“See, the more you talk dirty to me, the more I want to fuck you.” The smirk he has firmly ingrained on his face hasn’t left, and I don’t know if he’s serious or not. “A little blood never hurt no one.” He shrugs, and my stomach flips. “Get a coat and let’s go.” He pulls open my front door and takes a few steps. When he notices I’m not following, he stops. “You have ten seconds, or I will spend the night here in your bed.”
I would like to say I think he’s joking, but I have a feeling he isn’t. So, somewhat reluctantly, I grab my coat and keys, then follow him out as I lock my front door. We walk down to his car, and he doesn’t open my car door for me.
Pig!
I scoff at him as I do it myself.
“What?” he says.
“You are no gentleman, Joey Rossi.” I get in, pulling the coat over me before I buckle myself in.
“And you ain’t no lady. So let’s not get too tied up in what we are now, shall we?”
It’s wrong to hit him in the head with my phone, right?
Or stab him in the neck with my keys?
I could do either and smile while doing it. Instead, I sit here, not saying a word, as he drives. And he doesn’t say anything either.
Asshole.
FIVE
JOEY