As I approach, he’s pouring himself four fingers of scotch and tossing it back—the exact opposite of how you’re supposed to drink a scotch that expensive.
“How do you know who I am?” My voice comes out pitchy and slightly frantic, mirroring the beat of my heart.
Ignoring me, he pours himself another drink before bringing it to his lips and sipping it slowly. As he lowers the cheap plastic cup, his eyes meet mine. The feeling of recognition swirls in my chest, but I still can’t place him.
“I—” I begin, but the moment the sound leaves my lips, he turns and walks away again.
This time, I act faster and take off after him, my heels clicking against the rooftop as I quicken my pace to catch up.
Why am I even following him?
The last thing this guy deserves is my time and attention, but I’m desperate to know how he knows who I am, and why he clearly dislikes me so much.
That other guy had the same look on his face…
But I couldn't care less about the other guy.
“You know, this is extremely immature of you. You act like you know me even though wejustmet, and instead of doing the decent thing and explaining why, you’re ignoring me and literally running away.”
This gets his attention, and faster than I can slow, he turns around, causing me to crash into him. Our bodies press together, my face against the soft cotton of his shirt, and I’m disarmed by the scent of him again—sweet citrus, amber, bergamot, and…something I can’t place.
Something that’s uniquely him.
He doesn’t take a step back and instead leans down again, his lips ghosting my ear. “If you don’t recognize me,principessa, that is your issue, not mine.”
“So we have met, then?”
Stepping back, a dark laugh bubbles from his lips, and he shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”
Taking a step to walk away again, I stop him, my hand grabbing his wrist. He looks down at where we’re connected.
“Just tell me how you know who I am.”
I watch his Adam's apple bob, and I narrow my eyes, confused more than ever.
Why do I even care so much? I can’t explain why it’s bothering me that he knows who I am, or why I care about him finding repulsion in that knowledge.
I have a list a mile long of people who hate me simply because I’m a Paladino—the last name comes with many caveats. My father’s power and control within the city isn’t something people take lightly, and simply being his daughter is both a blessing and a curse.
And don’t get me started on my brothers and the strife they’ve caused over the years.
But the reaction Sly and Enzo gave me when they simply laid eyes on me was something I’ve never experienced before. Their hatred of my family clearly runs deep, and I want to know why.
Searching his eyes, I find no answers, but feel myself getting lost within them.
Neither of us says anything, but neither of us looks away, either.
Moments later, a girl stumbles over to us, her cup of white liquid sloshing over the rim, splashing on my shoe. I jump back to avoid more of her spill as she flings her arm awkwardly over Sly’s shoulder, practically hitting him in the face as she does because she’s too short to fully reach his shoulder.
Whining his name, she takes a large drink and sways into him.
“Angie, please control yourself. This is incredibly sloppy of you.” He physically removes her arm from him and takes a step back, just as she tries to kiss him. “Where is Ollie?He’sthe one who should be caring for you.”
Sly glances at me, then walks away from us both, disappearing through the crowd.
“Slut,” the girl, Angie, mutters not-so-under her breath as she looks me up and down.
Rolling my eyes, I walk away too, back to where I left Raina. Thankfully, she’s detached herself from Brock, and is looking out into the party. When she spots me, she visibly relaxes.