Which is why I’m nowhere near ready to unload that can of worms to Giovanni.
So when my phone buzzes for the umpteenth time, I ignore it and lose myself in the magic of my siren’s voice.
I look around the room and barely stop myself from baring my teeth when I see the number of sleazy eyes fixed on her. I want to rip each and every throat out, but I ball my fist on the table and keep my cool.
I’m not used to biding my time, but I force calm into my body.
Soon.
Tonight, even.
Because the jealousy racing through my bloodstream won’t let me hold out for much longer. Another new emotion.
The only time I’d been a possessive bastard in the past was when I was actively protecting my family’s territory in New York.
Years of watching my father struggle to claw back what was owed us after my grandfather, Don Frenelli—the devil take his miserable soul—schemed, murdered and eventually gambled his way through our birthright, I was determined never to go down like the old man did.
My ruthless methods of holding onto power had become legendary long before I passed the baton to my younger brother.
Watching Aria entrance her audience through another sultry song now, I’m possessed by a similar feeling. But it’s fixed on one breathtaking woman.
So I sit there, tormented, seduced and rampantly turned on by a girl I haven’t even met yet.
Yeah, I have it pretty bad.
When a skimpily dressed waitress totters over, her overdone face and bosoms announcing her keen interest, I barely stop myself from snarling at her.
She taps a long, fake nail on the side of my glass. “Get you another, sugar? Or can I interest you in something more…invigorating?”
Her come on is as bold and crass as her silicone tits.
I force myself to be civil. It wouldn’t do to draw attention to myself.
I may be known and feared in New York and major cities across the country, but so far my anonymity has served me well in San Diego.
It’s why Aria hasn’t gotten skittish and ran again like she has through several states, cleverly slipping through our men’s fingers before they can get a pin on her.
I need it to stay that way.
“I’m good, thanks.” I keep my voice crisp.
She persists. “Come on, you’ve been nursing that bourbon for an hour. I’m going on a break in five. How about we have us a private party out in the parking lot? You look like you drive a nice car. A sturdy pick-up, maybe? Or one of those muscle cars. Hmm, I love me a muscle car,” she purrs.
A sour taste fills my mouth at the thought of putting my hands or lips or dick near anyone but the perfect beauty on stage.
Aria doesn’t know it yet, but she owns every hard inch of me now. Same way I already own her.
“I said no,” I growl to the waitress, politeness skipping out the window because she’s now blocking my view of the stage and my girl.
She scuttles back at the naked menace in my voice, then throws me an icy glare as she flounces off.
I turn my attention to the stage.
Aria is gone.
Fuck.
I jerk to my feet and almost upend the table in my haste to go after her.