CHAPTER 6: Falling For The Wrong Guy.

MARA'S POV

Damian moves toward the door. I grab the back of his jacket and yank him away before his hand reaches the handle.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I whisper, keeping my voice low even though every nerve in my body is screaming. “Do you want us to get caught?”

He turns slowly, that irritating smile is sitting perfectly in his face. “Wait, Us?”

“Yes, us.”

He looks down at the hand clutching his jacket, then back at my face. “Take me away from the equation, baby.”

“How do you mean?” I ask.

“You're the only one who sees a mess here.”

He steps closer. “All I see is an opportunity.”

My stomach twists. “What opportunity?”

His eyes gleam with pure mischief. “Let him know his bestie has his older brother's hands all over her.”

My mouth falls open. “You are crazy.”

He grins, “Yea, I've been told.”

“How did I end up with a sick freak like you?”

He laughs quietly. Another knock lands against the door, louder this time, it sends shock to my spine.

“Mara? Are you good? Why so quiet?” Adrian's voice is louder now, and my entire body tenses.

Damian looks entirely too relaxed.

“Mara, I'm coming in.” Adrian's voice echoes through the door.

“No!” My voice comes out so loudly that even I wince.

There is a pause outside. I lower my voice immediately.

“I'm coming down soon, Adrian. I just need a moment.”

“Are you good? You got me worried for a moment.”

I look at Damian. He's watching me with that infuriating little smirk.

“Yes,” I say. The word almost catches in my throat. “I'm good.”

“Okay then, I'll wait downstairs.”

His footsteps move away. I close my eyes for a second, then I hear Damian chuckle.

“Little liar, You are so good at that, I am impressed honestly.”

I open my eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

“Pretending.” He looks amused. “No one would have thought you had it in you.”

I glare at him. “Don't get any fancy ideas.”

“Too late, butterfly.”

I step away from him and straighten my clothes, desperate to put some distance between us and even more desperate to get my head back under control.

“You need to understand something.”

He waits, totally relaxed on the washer basin.

I continue, “I know who you are.”

His eyebrow lifts. “Do you?”

“Yes.” I point toward him. “You're a Mafia.”

He doesn't react, his expression is totally relaxed.

“Who doesn't know that the first son of the Vescari dynasty is a Mafia?” I say. “The most feared man in the country, and apparently the biggest pain in my ass.”

His mouth twitches.

I throw my hands in the air. “So please stay away from me. I don't involve myself with criminals.”

He tilts his head and places a hand over his chest. “Ouch, baby.” His face twists dramatically. “That hurt.”

I roll my eyes. “You're impossible.”

He steps forward. I take one step back, and he takes another.

I should keep moving. Instead, my back finds the wall again, and his hand settles around my waist. My breath catches. Damn him. There is something about the way he touches me that makes every sensible thought in my head scatter.

His hand isn't rough. It isn't even particularly tight. But there is something possessive about it, something that makes me painfully aware that he could pull me closer whenever he wanted.

And the worst part?

I like it.

I hate that I like it. I hate that my body seems to have completely betrayed whatever principles my brain is desperately trying to hold on to. The feeling of knowing this fire and still playing around it.

I place my hand against his chest, not to push him away at least not immediately. His eyes drop to my hand, I quickly shove him.

“Don't even do anything stupid.”

His smile deepens. “You're terrible at pretending you don't like me.”

“I don't like you.”

“Of course. Keep telling yourself that.”

I glare at him, he leans closer. “Newsflash, butterfly.” His voice drops. “Your wings just got caught in this criminal's web, and I don't think I know how to get them out.”

The words send a strange chill through me. My skin prickles beneath his hand.

God.

He really knows how to talk to women. I'm sure he has used that voice on hundreds of them. Thousands, probably. Beautiful women throwing themselves at him, all because he looks at them like that and says things that make them forget their own names.

What a playboy. I pull away.

“You probably say that to every woman who crosses your path.”

“Not every woman interests me.”

“Well, I am not interested.”

His eyes settle on mine. “You're a terrible liar.”

I open my mouth to answer. My phone rings.

I freeze.

The screen shows my brother's name, I answer immediately.

“Noah?”

“Mara, where are you.”

His voice trembles, and I can barely make out his words. My stomach drops.. “Noah, What happened?”

“It's Mom.”

Everything inside me tightens. “What happened to Mom?”

“She collapsed again.”

I grip the phone harder, my eyes sting at the corner. “What?”

“She was rushed to the hospital. I'm here now.”

“Is she awake?”

“No.” My vision blurs. “Noah, what hospital?”

He gives the name and address. “Orbits, she's been administered. You need to come.”

The room seems to tilt.

“I'll be there.”

“Mara, please hurry.”

“I am.” I end the call.

I don't think. I push Damian away with both hands and run for the door.

“Mara, wait.”

I don't stop. I hurry downstairs so quickly that I nearly miss the last step.

Adrian stands from the table. “What happened?”

“It's my mother.” My voice breaks. “She was rushed to the hospital.”

His expression changes immediately. “I'll take you.”

“No.” I grab my bag.

“I have to go.”

“Mara—”

“I'm sorry.”

I look toward Isabella. “Thank you for the opportunity ma'am, I need to leave.”

She is already standing. “Don't worry about that now, darling. Go to your mother.”

I nod. Adrian follows me toward the door.

“I'll drive you.”

“I said no.”

He stops. I don't have time to explain, I don't have time for anything.

“I'll call you.” I say, pulling the door open.

He looks worried. “Okay.”

I rush outside, ignoring whatever disappointment is written across his face. My mother needs me, and that is the only thing that matters.