Page 7 of Mafia’s Angel

“Aren’t you even going to say good morning?” Duncan asked.

She stared down at her feet and cleared her throat. “Yes, of course. Good morning.” She tried to pull away, and he just tightened his grip.

“Aren’t you going to look at me, Angel?”

“Why, all of a sudden, do you want my attention? And don’t call me Angel.”

“I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want. Now, look at me.”

She sighed and raised her head.

His brows snapped together. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. I can tell you’ve been crying.”

“So.”

“I want to know what’s wrong,” he demanded.

“It’s none of your business. Now, let me go. My sisters are waiting for me.”

“I’ll get my answers first.”

“Why do you even care?” she cried.

“I just do.”

“I don’t think you have the time for this. I’m sure you’ve got better women to spend your time with.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Just what I said. I thought we decided to ignore one another.”

“I don’t want that. I want to spend time with you.”

She tried to laugh. “I’m sorry, but I’ve never liked crowds. Go to the other women in your life.”

“I don’t have any other women.”

She gritted her teeth to prevent herself from yelling at him. When she got herself under control, she looked up at him. “I’m sure you can find someone. You’re a handsome guy. It shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Where the fuck is this coming from?” Duncan asked.

She opened her mouth but was interrupted.

“I’m sorry to interfere,” Martin said. “But Mr. Alastair would like to speak with you.”

“Which one of us?” Duncan asked.

“Both, sir.”

“Let’s go.” Duncan pulled her along.

“Let me go, dammit.”

“No, I’m helping you.”