“Why are you here tonight, Cara?” Killian steps closer, only inches away now. I can see every dark fleck of gray in his eyes, a storm about to breach.
He’s dressed in dark wash jeans and a simple black shirt that clings to his chest, drawing my eyes down over his biceps without fail. My gaze shoots back up, heat flaring across my cheeks. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“The Salamander is Italian territory,” he replies coldly. “So it is.”
My chin jerks up automatically. I’m not about to let him bully me like this. There isn’t a ring on my finger just yet, and he needs to be reminded of that. “What I do with my own time and where I go is no one’s business but my own.”
The quick flare of anger in his eyes is my only warning. Fingers slip around my throat, squeezing just enough to send the message but not enough to hurt. I freeze, the blade in my hand pressed against his ribs. Either he doesn’t believe I’d stab him, or he just doesn’t care. I have half a mind to just do it and see how he’d react, but I really don’t want to have to explain that to my father later.
I can’t help but roll my eyes. “When are you ever not in a mood?” His fingers tighten, and I tense, irritation shooting through me. “Let go of me.”
“I will as soon as you tell me what you were really doing at the club.” He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look away. My breath hitches at the look in his eye. He might not hurt me, but I can see he wants to. He knows why I came tonight. He knows exactly why I was there. Either he saw me talking to Blair, and I just hadn’t noticed him or…
Blair had told him herself.
I didn’t know which would be worse; the fact that I’d let my guard down and hadn’t even seen him there or the fact that I’d trusted a random girl who ran and snitched on me as soon as she could. I silently curse myself for my mistake. I should have known.
“You already know why,” I tell him. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have tracked me down.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
‘Fine.” I jerk out of his grasp, but I know it’s only because he let me. “I went and talked to your ex. Are you happy?”
“Why?” Something dark flits across his face. His voice is deadly calm. Too calm now. That makes me warier than when he was snapping at me.
“Because I wanted to know more about you.” I cross my arms, shielding myself in case he decides to really go for the throat. “I tried to do it the normal way at dinner, but you turned it into a joke. And stole my underwear.” Just thinking about that night makes me hot all over again. With fury or attraction, I can’t tell. I just know I hate how he makes me feel.
He steps closer again, but I refuse to take a step back. “If you really want to get to know me so badly, I could just show you.” His knuckles skim my bare thigh. Fire licks up my spine as they stop just at the hem. “I could add another pair of lace to my collection.”
“You wish,” I hiss, stepping back. I try to take in air, but it feels as if he’s sucked it all right from the sky.
“Maybe,” he says mildly, and my pulse drums in my ears as my heart trips. My unwilling reaction bothers me, mixing with my irritation. Heart fluttering or not, I really didn’t like this man.
His hand burns its way up my back, fist twisting in my hair. Once. Twice. My head tips back, and I don’t know if it's the awkward way my neck is tilted or the alcohol, but my brain short circuits. It doesn’t help that he smells of whiskey and sandalwood, smoky and dark.
“But don’t assume.” He lets go suddenly, and I nearly stumble backward.
“I assumed you were an asshole from the first moment I met you,” I snarl. “And I was right.”
He smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They remain cold and calculating, watching my every move. “Funny. I assumed you were a stuck-up prude. Guess I was right as well.”
Fury roared through me, adrenaline lashing through my veins. Before I know it, my hand whips out, longing to feel the sting of his cheek against my palm. He catches my wrist painfully, grinding the bones together. I cry out, stepping closer to try and loosen his grip. The blade in my other hand drops to the pavement with a clatter while I try to tear his fingers from my wrist.
Killian’s head tilted forward, his voice dropping until I can feel his words reverberating through my core. “We can bicker all we want. But we will never lay our hands on each other in anger.”
Embarrassment washed over me along with something I’m not quite ready to identify. I rub my wrist as soon as he releases me, unable to look him in the eye. I never let myself get out of control like that. I’ve never even tried to hit someone before. He’d pushed me until I’d lashed out, and any man who could push my buttons was someone I needed to stay far away from.
“I’m leaving.” I turn my back on him, telling him exactly what I thought about him and everything he is.
“I’ll take you home.”
“I’ll call my own driver, thanks.” Venom drips with each word.
“Then I’ll wait with you until he comes.” He glances around the street, brow furrowing slightly. “Why are you walking? I didn’t realize you lived around here.”
I grit my teeth and start moving. “I don’t. I just needed to walk to get some air. Which now I have.”
Grabbing my phone from my bag, I send a quick text to my driver, sending him my location. He responds right away, letting me know he’ll be there within the hour. Great. I should have texted him sooner. Now I’m stuck out in the dark with Killian—the last person I wanted to run into tonight.