My heart slams against my rib cage.
I wasn’t even this scared with Emilio.
My hand shakes as I unlock the door and open it.
Antonio forces his way inside. “Where is he?” He storms through the house without waiting for a response, checking rooms and calling out for Emilio.
I run after him, somehow managing to slip into his path, and stand in front of him.
I hold a finger to my lips. “Shh!”
“Shh?” He looks at me, stunned I’d even dared to say that to him.
What’d he expect from me? A roundhouse kick or punch in the face?
He stares me down, as if ready to murder me at any second.
While Antonio is terrifying, I understand Gigi’s attraction to him. There’s no warmth to his face; it’s all darkness and intimidation, like how they say the devil is beautiful. A jagged scar runs along his forehead, and his hair is a touch darker than Emilio’s.
Hot Mafia boss, yes, he is.
Still, my husband is hotter.
I lean in closer. “Emilio is sleeping.”
Antonio’s jaw tenses. “Emilio doesn’t sleep.”
“First, yes, he does,” I say, for some reason sounding panicked, stressed, and pissed, all at the same time. “He’s not a damn vampire. Second, he has a fever and is resting. I’ll write him a nurse’s note if you need one.”
Antonio narrows his eyes at me. “Sick?” he huffs out, as if thinking I’m bullshitting him.
“Yes!” I shoot back, struggling to keep my voice low. “He’s in bed, sleeping.”
He moves in closer, tipping his head down to glare at me. “I don’t fucking trust you.”
I cross my arms, matching his stare while my pulse speeds. “Yeah, well, right back at you.”
He takes a step back, surprised by my response. “You have no reason not to trust me.”
“You have no reason not to trust me,” I counter.
“I have a book of reasons not to trust you.” He pushes past me. “I want to see him, and he’d better be fucking breathing. If he’s not, you won’t be in the next five fucking minutes.”
I scoff, following him close. “Geesh. Does your wife know you talk to women like this?”
“My wife knows everything about me.”
“She’d probably kick your butt if she knew you were behaving like this.”
He ignores me, heading straight for the stairs.
We both stop when the door opens, and Maggie walks in, juggling grocery bags in her arms.
Her worried gaze pings from me to Antonio. “What’s going on?”
“Emilio isn’t answering anyone’s calls,” Antonio explains, not having near the same attitude with her as he did with me.
“Yes, because he’s sick,” she replies while setting the bags on the floor.
