Wrong Place, Wrong Man

Chapter 12

My pulse jumped.
“Arrogant.”
“Curious.”
“About what?”
His eyes lifted to mine.
“How long you’re going to keep pretending you don’t feel this.”
For once, I had no clever answer.
Because denying it while pressed against him in the middle of the marina would have been insulting to both of our intelligence.
So I chose the next best option.
“You’re still an asshole.”
His mouth curved.
“There she is.”
Then, before I could answer, he turned and began pulling me toward the dock.
The spell shattered.
“Wait. What are you doing?”
“Getting you out.”
“I can swim.”
“You’ve demonstrated that.”
“Then let go.”
“No.”
“I am not a f*****g handbag.”
“Handbags are quieter.”
I stared at the back of his head.
“I really dislike you.”
“I know.”
“I mean deeply.”
“I know.”
“On a spiritual level.”
That earned me another quiet laugh.
Infuriating man.
By the time we reached the dock, several of his men had gathered above us. Marco was among them.
The moment he saw me, his expression changed.
I smiled sweetly.
“Miss me?”
Marco stared.
Lorenzo looked up at him. “Not a word.”
Marco pressed his lips together.
I could practically see the laughter trying to escape.
Lorenzo placed both hands around my waist.
“Don’t.”
I looked down at him.
“What now?”
“I can climb.”
“I know.”
“Then why are your hands on me?”
His gaze lifted slowly to mine.
“Because I like them there.”
My brain stalled.
Just for a second.
He used that second.
Lorenzo lifted me.
I grabbed his shoulders instinctively as he raised me high enough for Marco to reach down.
“Don’t touch me,” I snapped.
Marco’s hands stopped in midair.
Lorenzo sighed.
“Bonnie.”
“I can get up myself.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet here you are.”
I planted my palms against the dock and hauled myself onto it with what remained of my dignity.
Water streamed from my clothes and pooled beneath me.
I got to my knees.
Then my feet.
Pain shot through both soles.
I ignored it.
One of the men stepped toward me.
I held up one finger.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
Another took a step.
I raised a second finger.
“You too.”
Both men looked at Lorenzo.
I followed their gaze.
He had climbed onto the dock behind me and was standing there completely soaked, his white shirt clinging indecently to his chest.
His eyes moved from his men to me.
“Let her.”
That surprised all of us.
I straightened.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mistake curiosity for permission.”
“I wasn’t planning to thank you twice.”
His mouth twitched.
I turned away from him.
My shoes.
I’d dropped them before jumping.
I spotted them farther along the dock.
One of his men moved toward them.
“No.”
He stopped.
“I’ll get them.”
I walked.
Or tried to.
My feet were sore, my calf still ached and my skirt was so wet it fought every step, but I refused to limp.
The dock had become strangely quiet.
I could feel them watching me.
All of them.
Especially him.
I reached my shoes and bent to pick them up.
Then I paused.
An idea occurred to me.
A petty idea.
A completely unnecessary idea.
Naturally, I loved it.
I straightened slowly and turned around.
Lorenzo stood perhaps twenty feet away, surrounded by men who looked as though they’d just survived a military operation rather than a twenty-four-year-old events manager.
His gaze was fixed on me.
Good.
I sat on the edge of the dock.
Crossed one leg over the other.
And put on my first heel.
Slowly.
The absurdity of wearing them while soaked from head to toe wasn’t lost on me. That wasn’t the point.
The point was that I was going to leave this dock standing upright.
If Lorenzo Valenti wanted to drag me back into his world, he could at least watch me walk into it like I owned the f*****g floor.
I fastened the second shoe.
Stood.

Smoothed my ruined skirt over my hips.
The torn slit had climbed scandalously high along my thigh.
There wasn’t much I could do about that.
So I didn’t.
I pushed my wet hair behind my shoulders and began walking back toward him.
The heels changed everything.
My stride became slower by necessity, but steadier. The narrow skirt forced my hips into their natural rhythm, and I became intensely aware of Lorenzo watching every step.
His gaze descended once.
Briefly.
Then again.
Not briefly.
A tiny spark of satisfaction lit inside me.
Interesting.
So the marble statue did have a pulse.
I stopped in front of him.
“Enjoying the view?”
His eyes lifted to mine.
He recognised his own words.
“I told you already.”
“Yes?”
“Immensely.”

My pulse fluttered.
I refused to give him the satisfaction.
Instead, I gathered my hair over one shoulder and twisted it.
Water poured from the ends.
Then I looked down at my blouse.
It was hopeless.
The silk had become almost transparent, plastered to my bra and skin. Worse, it was cold enough now that the material made me shiver continuously.
I started undoing the buttons.
One.
Two.
Lorenzo’s eyes dropped.
Three.
Marco coughed.
I glanced at him.
“Problem?”
“No, ma’am.”
Lorenzo turned his head slightly.
“Leave.”
Every man on the dock moved.
I blinked.
Within seconds, they were walking toward the service lane.
“Seriously?”
Lorenzo looked back at me.
“What?”
“You just dismissed them?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”

His gaze lowered to my fingers, still resting on the next button.
“Continue and find out.”
Heat moved through me.
There it was.
That voice again.
Low.
Smooth.
Dangerous enough that the words seemed to touch more than my ears.
I should have stopped.
Instead, I held his gaze and opened another button.
His expression didn’t change.
His eyes did.
Interesting.
I slipped the blouse from one shoulder, then the other, leaving myself in my bra and skirt. I wrung the silk carefully between my hands.
Lorenzo watched.

Every.
Single.
Movement.
The satisfaction I felt was ridiculous.
“You know,” he said eventually, “if this is your attempt at negotiating your release, your strategy has improved considerably.”
I laughed.
“You wish.”
“Do I?”
I looked up.
He had moved closer.
I hadn’t heard him.
That bothered me.
He stopped in front of me, his wet shirt still moulded to his body, his hair no longer perfectly controlled.
For the first time, he looked almost as ruined as I did.
Almost.