All Chapters of Maddest Temptation : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

“Oooo,” Callie giggles. “Tell me. Now.”My face heats.Not a fucking chance.“It’s…just a guy. It’s nothing, really.”Callie glances at Bella before smirking at me. “Nothing like nothing, or nothing like you’re just casually fucking him?”My face goes hot. Callie’s eyes instantly bulge.“Hold up,” she breathes, staring at me. “I was kidding, but, Oh my God, are you seriously sleeping with someone outside work?!”My throat bobs up and down. “No.”“Because if you went out and had sex with him and didn’t tell me, that’s fucked up.”I frown. “Or, that’s private?”“Dude, have you met me?”I snort.“Yeah, I’m going to need to see your phone.”“Not happening.”“C’mon!!”“No!” I laugh nervously.“You're my only friend apart from Bella” I stare at her flatly. “Okay, that’s cheating.”“Don’t worry,” Bella grins. “We won’t snoop. Just show us what’s had you staring at your phone like you don’t know what to say back.”Jeus christo, these two they don't know when to give up.“Hang on.”They bot

“I don’t give a fuck who you are, and I certainly don’t give a fuck who your daddy is. But if you touch what’s mine again, I swear by whatever you hold holy and dear that I will remove your hand from the rest of your arm with a rusty fucking soup spoon. Do we understand each other?” Dario stares, then swallows, nodding quickly. “Say it,” Roman hisses. “I…!” He shudders. “I understand!” “Now fuck off back to your play group.” Dario scrambles to his feet, turns, and makes a straight line for the exit. I shiver as Roman slowly turns back to me. “Are you fucking insane?!” I hiss. “Do you have any idea who that—” “Nope. And I don’t care.” I gasp as he moves into me, grabbing me possessively with one arm around my waist as his other hand slides up to fist the back of my hair. Roman tugs my head back, tilting my face up to his. “But when I come for what’s mine after she refuses to do as I say, and I find someone else touching—” “Oh my God!” I blurt, well past tipsy from

I look like…well, like I just got the shit fucked out of me in a bar bathroom, that’s what.I fix that as much as I can before I take a deep breath and step out into the hallway. Back in the main bar area, I swallow as I arrive back at the table where Callie and Bella are talking and drinking margaritas.“Girl!” Callie frowns at me. “Where the hell did you…” She arches a brow, and slowly starts to smirk. “Where exactly did you get off to?”“And more to the point, who did you get off with,” Bella adds, making the two of them crack up as they grin at me.I desperately try to contain the heat on my face.“Ha ha ha,” I sigh, trying to look amused and sarcastic and not, well, floating and well fucked. “I got to talking with someone at the bar, and—”“Uh oh! Don’t tell Mr. Dictator,” Callie teases.“Hilarious,” I roll my eyes, still trying to keep my face from heating. “It was a girl from my class. Relax.”She frowns. “Uh huh. How come you’re all sweaty and glowing?”I frown, shrugging

“I’m not worried about Roman .” Much. I help her put the pieces together. “Dimitri doesn’t like loose ends.”Bella’s gaze flies to her phone. It’s laying on a coffee table covered in rings. “Are they looking for you?”“Probably.”“You have to get out of here.” There’s an edge of panic in her voice. She gets it now.“Yeah.” I move my tired body up. She bounds to her feet and roots in her purse. “I have thirty…seven bucks.” She shoves a wad in my hand.“I’ll pay you back.”“Just—you gotta go. This city ain't as big as you think. Ana , you in danger, girl.” She checks her phone. “Shit. There’s a text from Carlo.”“What does it say?” I lean over to look at the glowing screen. “What is that?”“it’s an emoji.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “He thinks he’s cute. He's learn how to use them.”“No mention of me?”“Just sad emojis.”“That's good I still have time”We exhale together.“Bella, I would never ask you this, but—”“What do you need?” she interrupts. She’s right in my face, earnestly

Black eyes. Perfectly trimmed beard. Not a hair on his head out of place. I gasp and drop the phone. “Ana.” It’s an order. His voice drips with. I didn’t really think he would—I press my hand to my chest, try to contain my beating heart. What have I done? No, no. I’m okay. He can’t trace me. I bought this phone at the flea market, and I’m paying for minutes. I can hang up anytime and never speak to him again. “Ana,” he repeats, insistent. Louder. I toss a pillow to the foot of the bed and prop the phone on it. Then I prop my back against the couch part, drawing my knees to my chest. I’m not so brave now, and there’s an ache in my chest, a stupid basket of hurt feelings. He’s at his desk. There’s the painting behind him. He’s wearing a white shirt with two of the buttons on the collar unbuttoned . No tie. It’s so late, but he doesn’t look the least bit rumpled or frazzled. He looks angry. Even on the small phone screen, I can tell his eyes are flashing. A cord in his neck