Page 16 of Who Said Mobsters Were Scary?
“You! What are you doing here?!” I blurt out like the biggest idiot, feeling heat rush to my cheeks. My complexion makes it very obvious when I flush, and he definitely doesn’t miss it.
Club Guy tilts his head slightly and lifts the basket he’s holding while not taking his eyes off me. It’s suspiciously full of random things. There is ice-cream, chocolate, a foot massager, hangers, an ice-making machine, a cucumber, two frozen salmon packets, kitchen paper and the latest issues of various magazines. I frown at them, trying to decide if he really needs all that or if he just grabbed a bunch of things and tossed them in there.
“I’m doing my shopping. As you can see,” he says, his tone serious and business-like.
I swallow hard, meeting his gaze again. The intensity in it makes me fight off a shudder and another wave of warmth that goes straight to my dick. It even gives a tiny jerk in approval.Seriously?
In an attempt to distract myself from my unplanned response, I glance toward the entrance, spotting two suited men with sunglasses waiting outside. My blood freezes.Shit, shit, shit. They totally look like hitmen. Am I in trouble?
Nerves swamp my stomach, unleashing tingling all over my body. If I had any hope that maybe he didn’t actually see me at the restaurant place, this definitely clears away such wishful doubts.
“I promise I didn’t hear anything! I know how sus it must’ve looked, but I really wasn’t trying to eavesdrop! I was at the observation room for the view! And then you walked by, and you looked familiar, and I was wondering from where, so I followed you upstairs and then I thought the plant was hid—”
He chuckles, propping his hip against the ice-cream fridge. I clamp my mouth shut and gape at him. He doesn’t say anything and just keeps looking at me.
“What?” I demand when the awkwardness gets too unbearable.
“This sounded like an excuse someone who was eavesdropping would say.”
I scrunch my eyebrows. Okay, he has a point. But it is the actual truth. I only followed him because I recognized him.
“You owe me,” I blurt out.
He narrows his dark eyes, the slight lift on the left side of his mouth back in place. “You are not wrong there, Leo.”
My pulse skyrockets, giddiness rippling through me.Oh my god, was that an L?“Say again?”
“I haven’t thanked you for helping me last week at the club.”
“No. Leo. Say my name again.”
He studies my face, taking a step closer as his smile grows. The hint of mischief in it makes his face even more attractive. “I’d like to talk to you, if you are free.Leo.”
I grin, my chest tight with satisfaction. He can pronounce the L in my name. He’s the first Japanese I’ve met who can do it. I knew it. He must’ve lived abroad or studied a foreign language from a young age.Yay, that’s my badass Club Guy for you, brain.
And then it hits me like a bucket of freezing water pouring on my head. He knows my name, but I haven’t even introduced myself yet.
Heart galloping, I stumble back. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”
My stomach pinches and flips and dips to my feet, my chest tightening with sudden panic. It’s been a week. I thought I was safe, but this is not a coincidence. He came here because he knew where I was. Because he knows who I am.
He glances at the cashier, and I follow his gaze. The college girl with the shop’s cap looks like she’s about to call the police.
“I’ll wait outside. Take your time.”
I don’t get to protest. I’m too shocked and my mouth won’t cooperate. Holding onto the drinks fridge for support, I gawk after him and wonder what the fuck have I gotten myself into by helping this stranger beat up a bunch of guys at the back of a nightclub.
Chapter 9
I stay in theconvenience store for a while, but when the cashier gives me an impatient look after the third time I pretend-browse the ice-cream freezer, I can’t stall any longer. Nerves on edge, I trudge over to the counter and pay for the now-lukewarm Momo soda I decided on twenty minutes ago, then slowly make my way outside.
Club Guy and his two goons are standing by the bike racks near the trees, smoking. I approach slowly, ready to bolt at the smallest hint that my life might be in danger. He seems to notice my apprehension, a subtle smile tugging at his lips as he shoos the two men away with his hand.
They comply without a question, giving us some privacy. I raise an eyebrow in question and catch Club Guy’s gaze.
“There’s a nice park nearby,” he says with a thumb hooked over his shoulder.
I’ve been meaning to check it out, but doing that at three in the morning with a suspicious man who lookslike he could make me disappear and get away with it is definitely not how I roll.
