138: You’re In My Seat

138: You’re In My Seat
RUE

I'd walked away. Elegantly. Chin high, blade hidden, mask firmly in place. And of course, the bastard had tried to follow me.

Tried.

His fevered body had given out halfway to the door, leaving him collapsed and cursing under his breath while his fiancée shrieked like a banshee. I hadn't even looked back. Not once.

Because if I had, I might've stayed.

So here I was. Back in my father's sprawling mausoleum of a house, sulking like a teenager grounded from her favorite brand of poison.

I lay sprawled across my bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it whirled in lazy circles, and tried not to replay Adrian's cracked voice in my head.

'Still came for you.'

Goddamn him.

A knock on my door yanked me from my spiraling thoughts. Followed by a voice I knew too well, dripping with faux sweetness.

"Rue? Amber's here."

Lucia. My lovely baby sister.

I sat up, tugged my robe tighter around me, and strode downstairs.

Amber spotted me the second I hit the bottom step.

"Ruuuuue!" She squealed, her heels clattering as she bound across the marble floor.

Before I could blink, I was crushed against an over-perfumed cloud of vanilla and citrus.

"God, I missed you," she sighed dramatically, squeezing the life out of me.

Despite myself, I let my lips twitch into the faintest smile. "You saw me two months ago."

"Two months in Tokyo feels like two years," she countered, pulling back to beam at me. "The food, the lights, the shopping! Oh my god, and the guys—Rue, listen."

I arched a brow. "This should be good."

"There was this hot guy," she started, fanning herself with her hand. "Like, model-hot, dangerous jawline, cheekbones sharp enough to slice sashimi. And then there was this... semi-hot guy. Still good, but you know, second-string compared to Mr. Samurai Dreams."

"Mm." I leaned against the banister, my arms crossed. "Riveting. Truly."

She was babbling, oblivious to my mood...until she wasn't.

Amber stilled, her light brown eyes narrowing as her smile faltered.

"...Okay. Spill. Who the hell put that look on your face?"

My stomach clenched.

Of course she'd notice. Amber always noticed.

So, I snorted, crossing my arms tighter. "Maybe I'm just hungover."

Amber's brows shot up. "You don't drink."

"Maybe I started."

"Liar." She tilted her head, her brown curls bouncing as she scrutinized me like a hawk. "Rue, I've seen that exact sulky scowl before. Remember freshman year? When Marcus kissed Natalie instead of you, and you acted like you didn't care while secretly plotting his slow, painful death."

"That's not what happened."

Amber gasped, smacking my arm. "Don't you dare gaslight me about our own history. I still have the notebook where you wrote his name next to fifty different methods of execution."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Christ, Amber."

She leaned closer, her perfume wrapping around me. "So. Who is he?"

"No one."

Amber's lips curled into a knowing grin. "I don't think so, bestie."

My chest tightened. I wanted to shrug her off and laugh it away. Instead, I end up confessing.

"He's... a disaster."

Amber's eyes gleamed with interest. "Ooooh. Tell me more about this disaster."

I glared at her, but the words kept tumbling before I could stop them.

"He's reckless, stubborn, half-dead half the time...and obsessed." My voice cracked the tiniest bit. "With me."

Amber let out a delighted squeal loud enough to shake the chandelier. "Oh my god, you've finally got your psycho!"

I winced. "Not helping."

"Rue, you deserve someone who looks at you like you're the last glass of water in the desert. Even if he's...what did you say? Half-dead?"

"More like three-quarters."

Amber clapped her hands together. "Delicious. What's his name?"

I hesitated. Saying it felt dangerous, like bleeding in shark-infested water.

But Amber just kept staring at me with those too-perceptive eyes.

Finally, I exhaled.

"Adrian."

Amber's smile froze. Her eyes went wide, glittering with recognition.

"Wait." She blinked once, then twice. "You mean Adrian Romano? The hotshot with the one eye?"

My spine stiffened. "...Excuse me?"

The fuck? How did she know?

She slapped a manicured hand over her mouth, muffling a squeal. "Oh my god, it is him. I heard whispers about him in. He's dangerous, filthy rich, runs quite a great portion of the city's underground deals, and—" she lowered her voice dramatically, "—rumor has it he'll kill for fun. And he's obsessed with you?"

I scowled, heat creeping into my cheeks. "I didn't say obsessed."

"Yes, you did. Word-for-word." She jabbed a finger into my shoulder. "Rue, you can't just casually drop that you're tangled up with Adrian freaking Romano, aka the one-eyed devil prince, and expect me not to lose my shit."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "He's not...look, it's complicated."

Her voice dropped, laced with curiosity.

"Rue. What the hell have you gotten yourself into? Your father will kill you."

As if on cue, my father descended the stairs dressed in a tailored black suit, looking every bit the mafia boss that he is.

"Hi, Daddy," Amber said, and I glared at her. She had that stupid dreamy look on her face.

The one that said she had a whole-ass crush on my dad.

"Amber, you're back," he said, flashing her a smile. Her ears turned red.

"Yes, sir. You look dashing as always."

Dad chuckled. "Thank you."

Amber leaned in to whisper in my ear. "Sorry, he's just too fine."

"Rue, I'll be heading out on a business trip. Make sure your brother doesn't do anything stupid," Dad said to me, and I groaned.

"Do I really have to babysit him? I'm busy enough as it is," I pouted.

He eyed me with amusement. "I don't think you are busy. Your uncle will be coming over later. Please do not turn my house into a club."

I grinned, my cheeks heating up at the memory of the last time Uncle Raf had visited. It had been lit.

"Yes, Captain," I said, and he rolled his eyes, heading towards the door. Gio came hurrying downstairs with Dad's briefcase, and together they stepped out of the house.

If only my dad knew I'd been with Adrian last night.

After they were gone, I dragged a hand through my hair.

"I need to get over him," I muttered. "Whatever this is...this...pull—it's wrong. I've never been so—" My throat closed, the confession nearly choking me. "So infatuated with a man in my life. And I hate it."

Amber's eyes lit up like fireworks. "Ahhh. There it is. The forbidden word."

"Infatuation is weakness," I snapped, more at myself than her. "I don't do weakness."

She leaned against the banister, smirking. "Please. I've known you since we were twelve, Rue. You're the strongest bitch alive. If this guy has you spinning out, it's not weakness. It's a fact."

I glared at her, but my chest ached with the truth I didn't want to admit.

Amber tapped her chin, then her smile turned sly. "Actually... I have an idea."

I narrowed my eyes. "That sentence never ends well."

"This one will." She clapped her hands together. "A very good idea, in fact. One that'll help you finally stop hiding behind your sarcasm and be honest with yourself."

My stomach dipped. "Amber..."

"Don't give me that tone." She winked devilishly. "Trust me. If you want to know whether you need to get over him...or whether you can't...you're going to need my plan."

....

Amber's "brilliant idea" turned out to be this: get me out of the house, stick me across from a tattooed stranger at some overpriced restaurant, and see if I could stomach the thought of someone other than Adrian Romano.

Spoiler: I could not.

The guy—Derek? Devin?—was perfectly fine. Handsome in a try-hard way. Black ink coiled down his forearms, peeking out from the rolled sleeves of his button-up. His smile was nice.

Yet, it made my skin crawl.

"So," he said, swirling his wine glass. "Amber tells me you're... complicated."

I arched a brow. "That's one word for it."

He chuckled nervously. "I like complicated."

I forced a smile and stabbed at my salad. "Mm. How brave."

The conversation dragged. He told me about his tattoos, his gym routine, and his uncle's boat. I nodded in all the right places, but every word went in one ear and out the other because all I could think was:

'Adrian would never bore me with boats.'

'Adrian would tease me until I snapped at him, just to hear my voice crack.'

'Adrian would look at me like he was starving.'

I gripped my fork tighter, my heart racing. What the hell was wrong with me?

And then, I felt it.

That weight. That heat. That heavy, unrelenting gaze crawling up my spine.

My breathing quickened, my lips curling before I could stop them.

Oh. Oh, he was here.

I didn't need to turn around to know it. Trouble had arrived, and he was watching me with that fever-bright eye, probably seething at the sight of me on a date.

I smirked, swirling the wine in my glass as Derek or Davin droned on about...something forgettable.

Then it started.

First, the couple at the next table was politely escorted out by a waiter. Then another. Then another. Dishes were cleared, glasses were whisked away, and chairs were stacked with eerie efficiency.

I didn't even have to look. I knew.

The temperature had dropped by ten degrees.

My date frowned, looking around. "Uh... is the restaurant closing or something?"

"Mm." I swirled my wine, my lips twitching. "Something."

And then, like a nightmare I'd secretly prayed for, he appeared. Adrian Romano. His fever-bright eye locked on me, his black suit immaculate, as if he hadn't collapsed half-dead less than twenty-four hours ago.

The bastard looked alive now. Too alive.

Derek's shoulders stiffened as Adrian approached. "Hey, man, we're kinda in the middle of—"

Adrian didn't even spare him a glance. He just pulled his leather gloves off, one finger at a time, and dropped them on the table between us.

"You're in my seat."

Oh, God. That voice. Heat and something unholy slid under my skin and settled in my gut.

The poor guy blinked. "Excuse me?"

Adrian finally looked at him then, with that single, devastating eye. Cold. Possessive. Lethal. "You heard me."