Antonio gives me a questioning look, but I shrug him off. I’m not repeating what that prick said.

Carina is taking her time. I figured she would. Building up the drama before making an entrance is just the sort of drama I’d expect from my little brat. There’s that word again–my. I have to stop thinking like that. It’s only going to lead to more mishaps, more moments of me losing my rationality.

For Carina’s sake, I have to be on my game tonight. This event isn’t just a marriage mart–not that I’d ever let her marry one of these assholes–but it’s also a wonderful tool to pick up information. Tidbits that the young idiots will let slip, which is exactly why Angelica is encouraging them all to have plenty of drinks. Any gathering is a perfect place to gain intel, especially when it’s full of young, cocky, drunk pricks.

“You good?” Butcher grunts from behind me.

“You look tense enough to spring from here to the roof.” Bianca frowns. “Are you all right?”

“I’m good.” I roll my shoulders. “Don’t worry.”

“Okay.” She doesn’t seem convinced, but she pulls on Butcher’s arm. “Come on. I want to see how many victims Carina has to choose from.”

“Victims?” Butcher’s lip twitches. “I like it.” He leads her into the dining room, where the voices are still humming.

I turn and look up the stairs.

For some reason, that’s the exact second Carina walks into view on the landing.

My heart seems to shudder and seize, everything inside me grinding to a halt before jumping forward at ten times the normal speed. She’s wearing a light blue dress that wraps tightly around her chest, hugging her breasts and then flaring out in gauzy fabric that barely reaches mid-thigh.

I stare at her face, at her bright blue eyes that seem to consume everything they see–including me.

She meets my gaze, and her chin rises in challenge as she walks to the stairs, her heels giving her hips even more sway. A temptress, an irresistible demon sent to torment me–she’s all those things and more.

When she reaches the floor, she stops for a moment before slowly walking to me, her hips swaying in that tantalizing way. I can’t speak, can’t think. This is the first time we’ve come face to face since the pantry. I’d counseled myself over and over again that I was to keep my cool, to keep my hands to myself.

But now … Now that thing inside me that snapped before–it’s already bent to the breaking point, and she hasn’t even opened her smart mouth yet.

“You like it?” she asks, her voice sultry.

My tongue feels two sizes too large. “Yes.”