sexy businessman was preferable to a sexy hitman, at least.
“You don’t like fighting?” a different voice chimed in, American from the sounds of it. “You’re Irish. Isn’t an affinity for a good fight a requirement if you’re from Dublin?”
Yeah, not a hitman. Unless he’s a really good actor.
“Just not a fan of fighting. I have my reasons,” the Irishman responded, a glib tone to his voice.
I had the sudden urge to lure an answer out of him. Uncover the truth. Apply a little pressure and discover whatever it was that had this Irishman probably wishing he were anywhere else.
“Fighting is cathartic. Watching it. Doing it. Trust me.” A raspy, flirtatious edge sounded through my tone. “You don’t know what you’re missing.” Why did I just say that?
The Irishman didn’t respond. Maybe he assumed I’d been speaking to Chanel.
A few moments passed before he shifted in his seat, inadvertently bumping his leg into mine, and the movement sent my black clutch sliding off my lap.
With lightning-quick reflexes, he snatched the clutch before it hit the ground. I was somewhat shocked to realize he’d been faster than me.
And hitman was back on the table.
My gaze followed the line of his suit jacket down to his strong hand that now offered my clutch. “Thank you,” I said softly. Dragging my eyes up his white pressed shirt, sans tie, and along the tan column of his throat, I paused to appreciate his handsome face. A clean-shaven, not-quite-chiseled jawline. Full lips that begged to be kissed. To be tasted. A perfectly straight blade of a nose. Short blond hair, the top a touch unruly, above brilliant blue eyes that now held mine. He couldn’t be but a few years older than me. And the looks did indeed match the sexy voice.
I kept my hand on top of his as he remained holding my clutch between us.
I wasn’t one to get starstruck or become speechless. No tingling sensations because of a man unless I was mid-orgasm. And butterflies? The only kind I’d experienced were the ones that flitted around in our yard while I practiced archery when I was younger.
Of course, my life was unique, and maybe that meant my responses to normal situations were also different.
Papà loved me like a daughter but treated me like a man preparing to wage war starting at a young age. I was shooting arrows and learning to fight with knives before I got my period.
And yet, right now, my heart beat harder. Faster. Not its normal steady rhythm. And a wicked slash of desire cut sharply down my belly and between my legs.
All that from just one look piqued my curiosity. It had me wondering what this Irishman would be like in bed.
It’d honestly be my kind of luck if this hot guy was sent to kill me, though. You’re just jumpy because Chanel is here. He’s a guy in a suit. A freaking hot Irish guy in a suit. That’s it.
I couldn’t form words as I partook in this staring contest that felt more like a battle. But for the first time in my life, I didn’t know if I was strong enough to prevail.
I blinked. Folded. Lost the round.
I quickly looked away from those startling eyes. Eyes that seemed as if they might hold all the answers to the universe. As I took the clutch, I focused on catching my breath while attempting to explain away the bizarre sensations ransacking my body.
Unlike Chanel, I’d gone head-to-head with more than one billionaire businessman before I could even drive. I’d sparred with men twice my size. Her father treated her like a glass doll to be shelved and observed. My father taught me to inspect dolls for listening devices.
But this life was the price that came with being the daughter of the Italian leader of La Lega dei Fratelli, The League of Brothers. Our family took down bad guys for a living, and as a result, we had a lot of enemies.
So, for being so tough, it was hard to believe my heart was stuttering and my breathing suspended all due to this man and his bold, blue eyes beneath slanted brows, pinning me with a curious look.
I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath, finding myself pleasantly gathering in the Irishman’s masculine cologne, a contrast to the perfume I wore. White petals, honey, and ivory wrapped my limbs like a blanket. The only sweet and pure thing about me tonight was my scent, as I was dressed