𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

45 || Footsie

Acquainted - The Weeknd

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Adrik

"So," cherry stained lips tip at the corners where miniscule indents fold into deep tan skin as she breaks the silence in the room. "What are we talking about?"

She's met with more silence, only this filled with an unmistakable tension. Something she very clearly chooses to ignore.

Not only has she managed to make an enemy out of the two people who could impose a mild threat to my plan, but she's inserted herself in an area shes unwanted in, and she's doing it in the only way she knows how to.

She's taunting, provoking, and its all too maddening for them to handle.

No one answers her question. Nor does it stop her.

"Surely you had to have been discussing something of substance," She stops herself, pulling away from her steak dinner to tilt her head. An action so innocent, so curious, it goes against her nature.  "But then again, all big ego'd men do together is sit around and try to prove who's dick is bigger."

I should be livid.

I am.

She'd ruined my carefully planned out evening, inserted herself where she didn't belong. Where I didn't want her.

Yet the more I say it, the more it feels like a fallacy.

I want her everywhere I am.

And it's not so much a want as it is a ferocious need. A hyper-fixation so deeply embedded into my being I'm acutely aware of every move of her hand, trail of her gaze, deliberate word out of her mouth.

Everything.

And even now, as my indifference puts the tension in the room to my advantage, I can't help the way my thoughts are compulsively fixed on that of the devious woman with a smart mouth.

One of the other women in the room choke on their food, while the man next to her uncurls his inked hand from behind her chair and leans forward, unflinching. "We were talking about how Russian's don't just like their bitches crazy, but clinically insane."

At that, my head turns. I hadn't allowed myself to properly look at her since she'd taken the seat at my side. I knew better than to think a single glance would satisfy me. I could never seem to get enough of her.

Ignoring him with a low chuckle, she turns to Alessio Galanti and continues. "Were we talking about how sloppy the Italian's have gotten now that they can't move their product through the docs?"

The man stiffens, his temper flares, but she's already moved onto Nico Blaine.  "Or are we talking about Rosso's sloppy decent into nothingness?" Her eyes sparkle in a way that blares red.

Trouble.

She's nothing but trouble.

And I'm worse for craving it.

The tattooed man turns to look at the girl sat at his side, who's got her brown eyes widened,"I swear I didn't tell her."

"She didn't have to." At my wife's words, Nico's head slowly turns towards me, accusation and annoyance clear.

Despite wanting to respond, retaliate, he has enough power to know you don't threaten another powerful man. Not unless you're willing to loose what you value."No one told me. It only took one unfortunate encounter with you, to realize what's right in front of us."