Lady Night

Chapter nine

"If I'm such a baby, you should probably stop looking at me like that."

"And how am I looking at you, Miss Night?"

He chuckled a little, leaning back in his chair and swirling the amber liquid around in his cup.

He hadn't stopped looking at me. In fact, his gaze made me burn. I didn't bother giving him an answer he already knew. Instead, I wanted a few of my own.

"What about you?" I asked, almost struggling to speak over the thickness in my throat.

"What about me?"

"You went to law school? You're a lawyer. But you're not an old man."

He arched a dark brow. "No, Miss Night. I am not an old man."

Clearly, he needed more prodding to engage in a normal conversation. I understood the urge not to offer up information about myself willingly.

But sucks for him because that was how you conversed and I wouldn't let him off the hook.

"When did you graduate? Where did you graduate from? How old are you if you're not an old man and think I'm a baby?" Each question rattled off faster than the last.

That brow of his was going to stay in that position if he didn't stop being surprised at every word I said. He found the amount of questions I asked amusing, clearly, but he didn't comment on that.

"I graduated college when I was nineteen.

Graduated from Yale law a few years later. And," he took a long drink, "I turn thirty in a few weeks."

Somehow he seemed both older and younger than twenty-nine. I suppose that had a lot to do with how quickly he finished school. Nineteen?

Yale? Damn him.

"You almost look impressed," he drawled. I wanted to smack him.

"By you? Never." Then after a moment, I looked at him with raised brows. "Yale? Really?"

He chuckled. "Too cliché for you?"

"I mean... did it really have to be the best?

Couldn't have been a lower ranked ivy?" I teased.

Gio stood, setting his glass on the wooden table in front of him. For a moment, one terrifying moment, I thought he would walk over to where I sat. My spine tensed in anticipation, but he didn't move. He simply tucked a hand in the pocket of his tailored slacks.

"A lot of politicians go to Yale for law school, Miss Night," he said, "and it pays very well to know politicians in my line of work."

My mouth ran dry. There were moments when I spoke to him that I forgot what exactly it was that he did. Who he actually worked for. I'd met Don Russo. He wasn't an easy man to forget.

"I didn't realize corporate lawyers had such an interest in politics," I c****d my head, gauging his reaction.

This was a game of chicken between the two of us, one to see which of us would be the cat and which of us would be the mouse. He, of course, expected to be the cat, but I had too much to lose to keep being a mouse. But if I had to pretend, then that's what I would do.

"Don't insult your own intelligence by playing dumb, Miss Night," he chided with a playful lilt in his tone, "We both know what I am and who I work for, don't we?"

I didn't answer his question, it was approaching dangerous territory and I'd rather he leave this conversation not suspecting what I was here to do to him and the people that he worked for.

He needed to trust me. My thumb brushed over the stitching in the arm chair as I glanced up at him.

"You say my name a lot," I pointed out and he smiled at the change of subject.

"I like it," he said, "it suits you."

Funny. Seeing as it wasn't even my real one.

"Not so heavy a name as 'Russo,' but not many can be."

Gio seemed to notice the change in my expression, because this time he did take a step closer to where I sat. I fixed the look in my eyes back to the one I used when I talked to a customer. Crossing my legs, I let an easy smile cover the mask on my face as my dress slid up a little further on my thigh. He glanced at the hem, lingering a little too long before his eyes flicked to mine.

"I suppose you didn't learn that in college," he nodded to where and how I was sitting.

No, I didn't.

Learning how to get what I wanted from people was a skill I'd been using and honing long before college. It took different forms sometimes, but the result was usually the same.

Though, people didn't usually know what I was doing. Not like him.

"I don't know what you mean," I blinked a couple times, frowning. He seemed amused.

"It's not bad," he said, sounding almost like he was giving me a compliment, "being beautiful must have helped you be a thief."

How did he know about that? I kept my face calm, even though my heartbeat raged inside my chest. He shouldn't know about my past- there was no way he could. Maybe he was digging, trying to see if I would admit to something he only suspected. He couldn't possibly know the truth... could he?

Instead of giving anything away, I c****d my head at him again and watched him from behind my eyelashes.

"The only thing I'm trying to steal is a moment of your time, Mr. Russo."

His mouth parted slightly as his eyes went to my lips. A man of such intense focus and composure, that one small break told me everything I needed to know. I'd gotten under his skin with what I said and he liked it when I called him 'Mr. Russo.' Maybe a little too much.

"Unfortunately," his voice had just a hint of thickness that wasn't there before, "my time is the most expensive thing I possess. I doubt I'll be able to give you much of it. You've already stolen enough from me tonight."

He stepped closer to the arm chair and I tried not to let him see the breath that hitched in my throat. Gio's shins were pressed against the ottoman that rested in front of my chair, his body towering over where I sat. His gaze down at me was like that of a god ready to enact his justice on the world. On me.

Except, I didn't cower. My legs remained crossed, my arms on either side of the chair, and my gaze unflinchingly meeting his own. If he was a god, then I was a queen in this armchair.

Neither one of us bending. Neither one of us willing to be the mouse in this game.

"Are you expecting an apology?" I asked, proud of my voice for remaining steady. My hands gripped the sides of the chair to keep from shaking under his golden-eyed gaze.

He c****d his head to the side. “ An apology would be most welcome."

Gio leaned down, placing his hands on either side of the chair on each arm rest as he leaned over me. My hands slid back down into my lap as he enveloped the space immediately before me. Filling the air with his dark spiced scent.

Fine. He could be the air that I breathed. But I would be his too, and I'd make sure he choked on it.

"Of course," I murmured, little more than a whisper, "I am sorry, Mr. Russo."

I leaned forward too, my hands lifting to rest my palms on his chest. A hard and tattooed chest.

His breath seemed to catch and his lids were heavy, only inches from my face. The air felt charged with static, forcing the hair on my arms to stand up as if he called to every synapse in my body.

His presence scrambled my brain, making it hard to breathe when he was this close.

Making it hard to ignore the ache that was starting to form in my lower belly and the heat that grew between my legs. I tried to take small, shallow breaths and resist the urge to swallow the intoxicating spiced air.

"But only because I have to wish you goodnight," I said quickly, ducking under one of his large arms to stand and walk toward the door.

He stood slowly, as if moving out of molasses, to turn and watch me walk away from him. When I turned to bid him goodbye, there was an amused smile on his face at my abrupt goodbye.

But his eyes— those gold eyes- they still burned with the static that had buzzed between us only moments ago.

"Goodnight, Sabina," he drawled, his voice giving no indication that I'd affected him whatsoever.

"Always a pleasure, Giovanni."

His parting smile told me all I needed to know.

He would definitely get me back for that, and sometime soon. As I stood in the elevator, I loosed shallow breath after shallow breath and realized something strange: I was excited for him to try.