While walking past us, Allister pulled the cigarette from my lips and tossed it to the sidewalk before entering the hotel doors.

I sighed.

Valentina laughed.

The night of Elena’s bachelorette party fluttered through my mind. I got to my feet. “I need to gather some intel.”

She blew out a breath of smoke between red-painted lips. “You do that. And while you’re at it, find out the handsome stranger’s name.”

I caught up to Allister and sidled beside him as he and his companion walked to the ballroom. “Who’s your friend?”

Allister didn’t even look my way. “None of your business.”

“Name’s Sebastian.” The stranger winked at me, and I could feel it straight in my toes.

“Sebastian what?”

Christian’s shoulders tensed.

“Perez.”

I placed the light accent behind his voice. “Ah, a Colombian. Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Sebastian.” I held out my hand, but before Sebastian could shake it, Christian grabbed my wrist and pulled it to his side. “I’m—”

“Married,” Christian finished, and then shot the Colombian a look I couldn’t decipher.

A small smile pulled on Sebastian’s lips. “I’ll just go offer my condolences to the bride. It was my pleasure, Gianna.”

How he knew my name, I didn’t know, but the fact he did made my chest squeal with girlish delight.

Wait, condolences?

Oh, whatever.

“You too, Sebastian.” I tried to raise my hand to give a flirty wave, but realized Christian still had a tight grip on my wrist.

I brought my unimpressed gaze to him.

His eyes were narrowed on me.

“Who peed in your Raisin Bran this morning?”

He dropped my wrist, smoothed his tie, and eyed the room like he was on security detail. “I find your presence bothersome. Go put yourself somewhere else.”

“Fine. I do need to find out more about Sebastian.” I took a step in that direction, but he grabbed my wrist again. I frowned, looking down at where he held me. “I’m confused. I think this is called mixed signals?”

Something flashed in his eyes like he was going to spill with some other ridiculous command, but then a muscle in his jaw tightened, and he let me go and walked away.

Because he clearly didn’t want me to, I followed him.

“I didn’t expect you to be one to celebrate love,” I said.

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh? Are you who they hired to supervise the children?”

“More like, the adults.”

“Oh, please. We’re doing just fine.”

“Looks like it,” he said, eyeing a room so full of tension a single wrong move could detonate a bomb.

We stopped at the short line to the bar. Waiters flitted from here to there, but it seemed there weren’t enough to satisfy everyone’s need for alcohol.

My shoulder bumped into Christian’s arm while I moved to stand beside him. His body tensed, but apparently he was still choosing to ignore my presence. The small touch lit a fire in me, and I fought the invisible pull to step closer to him. I crossed my arms, putting on my best interrogation pose.

“What were your whereabouts at approximately three a.m. last Friday night?”

His gaze slid to me, sizing up my stance. “Home. Sleeping.”

“See . . . I just don’t believe you.”

“Why’s that?” he drawled.

“Lucifer never sleeps.”

He appeared almost amused, but I couldn’t be sure because he grabbed his drink from the bartender and left me standing there, alone.

I sighed, turning on my heel to follow him. “You’re going to give a girl a complex.”

“Another complex might be exactly what you need.”

“Ha ha, very funny. But jokes aside—did you take me home the other night?”

“No.”

“Did your good twin take me home?”

He let out a breath of amusement.

He was now walking down a hallway off the ballroom, but I wasn’t going to follow him into any dark corridor. No matter if there was a door with Security written on it at the end. I stopped, and my frustration with his evasion finally bubbled to the surface and into my voice.

“What did you do to me, Allister?”

He paused, turned to face me. “You think I did something to you?” He laughed darkly. “Felt you up while you were passed out?”

Well, no. That hadn’t even crossed my mind, but why had he taken me home? He had to have an ulterior motive. “Did you go through my underwear drawer? You know, you can buy used ones for sixty dollars on the internet these days. You didn’t have to take me home just to get your fix.”

He looked like he wanted to strangle me. “I didn’t fucking touch you or your shit. I thought we already went over this?” His eyes flashed. “I’ve been there before. I wasn’t impressed.”

That stung as though he had slapped me in the face. The anger sucked the air from my lungs, and my claws came unsheathed in an instant.

I grabbed the glass in his hand with every intention of tossing the contents in his face, though before I could, he ripped the tumbler from my grasp and threw it to the floor. I stared at my failed revenge shattered on the marble but could see nothing but rage. I wanted to hurt him as much as his words had me.

I pushed him, and when he didn’t respond, I did it again. Then, I beat on his chest and tried to knee him in the groin.

When he’d had enough, he spun me around, pulled me back against his chest, and pinned my arms with one of his.

“Calm down,” he ordered.

“Go fuck yourself.” My chest heaved up and down, as I tried to fight my way out of his hold.

His grip tightened, and I sucked in a breath. I leaned against him and dug my nails into his forearm when I realized it was all I could do.

The hair on the back of my neck rose when his angry, mocking words brushed my ear. “Your entire family is just down the hall. What would your husband think if he saw you in such a compromising position?”

Fury was dimming under the heat of his body pressed against mine. The tightness of his arm around me. The scent of his custom cologne. And then there was the undeniable press of his erection against my lower back. The bastard was getting off on putting me in my place. Though, regardless of the circumstances, just the idea that he was hard sent a heavy weight between my legs. I softened against him, not able to get enough air in my lungs.

“He’s at home with a nurse. He has pneumonia.”

“Ah, I hear that’s a killer for an old man like him.” His hold loosened, and his hand, ever so slowly, slid from my waist to my hip. The touch seared through my skin, setting my heartbeat crackling like sparks. “Who’s next on your husband list this time?”

He turned me, pulled my front against his, the heat of it becoming an overwhelming distraction. But then I reminded myself of what he said to me. Resting my palms on his stomach, I slid them up his chest as I rose to my tiptoes. He watched me through eyes too obscure to read.

We were so close I could smell his aftershave, count his eyelashes. The barest inch lay between our lips. It was too easy to fill—impossible not to—and I let the distance close, my lips skimming his as I said, “Anyone will do. As long as they screw me with a little more passion than you.”