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“You sure are persistent for a man that isn’t interested.” His gaze drops to my mouth. “Oh, I’m interested.”
“I’d rather shut my dick in a car door than do this again some time, Penelope.”
“It feels like your heart is walking outside of your body.” Her gaze finds Angelo’s again, and I watch in fascination as a pink flush creeps from underneath her necklace. “My heart now wears Armani and has a Glock for every day of the week.”
The Ace of Spades. The luckiest damn card in the deck. I’m back, baby.
Worrying about the little pouch of fat that hangs over the waistband of my panties has never paid my bills. Obsessing over the fact that my thighs rub together has never given me a winning Blackjack hand. And being judgmental about other women’s bodies has never made mine miraculously perfect, either.
Gabe nods in approval, tosses the Jack of Diamonds on the table, then holds his fist out for Rory to bump.
“Careful calling me boss when you’re half naked, Penelope,” he drawls. “I might just get the wrong idea.”
“Women don’t fall in love; they fall into traps.”
I wonder who hurt her? A boy her own age. Some spotty kid in his basement, no doubt. Briefly, stupidly, I wonder if I should hurt him, too.
“You’re a dog, Penelope,” he says breezily over his shoulder. “I should look into putting you down.” “They already tried.” His footsteps slow to a stop and he glances back at me. “And?” “I bit the vet.”
“If Blake’s an easy target, what does that make you?” She pulls a wallet out from under her dress. Son of a bitch.
This girl isn’t the Queen of Hearts, but the Devil in disguise. Unfortunately, I can’t say for sure I wouldn’t follow her into hell.
“Talk shit, get hit,”
Angelo is everything Raphael Visconti pretends he’s not.
“Did you just call me pretty?” His jaw ticks. “You know you’re pretty.” “I do?”
“You barely looked.” “Because I’m a gentleman, Penelope.”
“So show me.”
“Pin is four, eight, four, two,” he says quietly. He locks his fingers behind his head and leans back against the headrest. His gaze flashes like a warning sign. “Now, take it off.”
You could have all the success in the world, but the Queen of Hearts will bring you to your knees. In case Penelope is the Queen of Hearts, I probably shouldn’t have let her grind on me.
“Can’t believe Rafe chased you with a hammer.”
“Yeah, and can’t I believe you handed it to him.” “Hey, what the boss wants, the boss gets.”
“No pillow, and the blanket was only a blazer. If your car was an Airbnb, I’d give it a four-star rating.”
“No—three and a half.” “Why’d you knock off the half-star?” “There was also this creepy man staring at me all night.”
“Seems I was too busy being a creepy man and staring at a beautiful girl all night.”
“You’ve got the luck of the Irish,”
“You got any Irish in you, sweetheart?” “Nope.” “Would you like to have Irish in you?”
His eyes soften to something warmer as they search my features. I shake off a shiver for a different reason when his hand cups my jaw, and his thumb trails the curve of my cheekbone. “No crying.”
“Why do you care if I cry?”
He tracks his thumb as it trails further down, across my bottom lip and along my chin. He grips me there for a moment, regret coating his features. “Because last night, I saw you laugh.”
She shakes her head, offering him a polite smile. “I don’t drink.” “Aw, come on, it’s almost nearly Christmas—” The combination of Gabe’s chair scraping back and the crack of his fist connecting with the table sweeps a deafening silence through the cave. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Angelo rise to his feet. “She said, she’ll have a lemonade,” Gabe growls.
“Home, Queenie.”
