I turned around.
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t like feeling like a coward.”
I blinked. “Why would you feel like a coward?”
He opened his mouth, closed it.
An unsettling feeling expanded in my stomach. “Why would you feel like a coward, Vincent?”
“I haven’t invited you to anything lately because I didn’t want to get you into trouble, but . . . I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t have to do with self-preservation as well.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I realize now . . .” He grew distracted as his gaze ran down my body, down the dress that was probably transparent by now. “Here.” He slipped his suit jacket off and rested it on my shoulders—as always, an exemplary gentleman. “I’ve known you’re a little out of my league when it comes to your family, but now, I get why you’re so cautious of them.”
Embarrassment warmed my cheeks. Someone had visited him. Had threatened him, most likely.
“Who was it?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, understanding what I was asking him. “I didn’t ask for his name. He was a bigger guy, intimidating.”
Luca.
I gritted my teeth to calm myself.
“He had a badge on him, made me feel like a criminal just for liking you, if I’m being honest.”
Wait, what?
My breath stilled, and I asked my next question very slowly. “Did you say he had a badge?”
“Yeah, FBI, if you can believe it or not.”
My laugh was dark. “Oh, I can believe it.”
That son of a bitch. I was going to kill him. Murder him in cold blood. Toss his body to the sharks.
Was my life an amusement to him? A game, just like all the others we played? Frustration bubbled up my throat.
“I want you to know I wasn’t ignoring you, Gianna. I just think it’s better if we . . . part ways.”
Great. I’d been exiled from an entire group of friends. Vincent was the ringleader—without him, one simply didn’t get an invite. On the other hand, I could say I’d never been more turned off in my life. How easily he’d conceded to one measly threat.
“I agree, Vincent.”
“You agree,” he said, like he was confused.
Did he think I would beg him to keep me in the loop? I’d been a Russo for the last eight years of my life. We wouldn’t beg with a gun to our heads.
“I have to go now. Thanks for the jacket.”
I turned around and raised my hand to hail a cab.
Rain poured from the sky, weighing down my hair. Soaking my clothes. But doing little to cool my ire.
“Where to?” the cabbie asked.
I rattled off the address to Ace’s club.