28. Chapter 28
28
" W ait, we're going to some no-name bar that's not even in Chicago proper?" Noe exclaimed, both hands on top of Ilaria's kitchen counter.. "Why aren't we going to Mystique?"
"C'mon," Ilaria cajoled. "We always go there. Let's try someplace different."
"Different would be going to a wine bar," Noe retorted. "Not to a bar that's named after an animal carcass and probably has them hanging all over the place. Do they even serve wine ?"
"Noe, your snobbiness is showing," Emmy deadpanned as she poured wine into three glasses.
"Tell me the real reason," Noe demanded. He claimed one of the glasses.
"What do you mean?" Ilaria hedged.
"I mean, you'd probably never even heard of this place before tonight." He gasped and pointed a finger at her. "Soren's going to be there."
Ilaria grimaced.
Noe clapped his hands together. "I knew it."
"Whatever happened to ‘nothing's going to happen, he's off-limits'? Emmy asked slyly, eyes wide. Noe clinked his glass with hers.
"Nothing is going to happen," Ilaria insisted. "In fact, we even talked about it the other day. We've called a truce, and we're going to cooperate until the job's done. So it couldn't hurt to be friends, right?"
"Mm-hmm," Emmy nodded. She took a sip of wine, hiding her grin.
"Yeah, friends," Noe echoed. He put a finger on his chin. "Do friends make out? With or without tongue?"
A fluffy pillow cuffed him on the top of the head. "Not the hair!" he growled.
***
"Thanks for the ride, Murray," Ilaria said as she, Emmy, and Noe piled out of the SUV in front of Stag's Head.
"No problem," Murray replied in the thick Scottish brogue she loved. "We'll be waiting out here for you. No rush, eh?"
The three of them looped arms and shimmied up to the door of the bar. Instead of their usual sexy-glam nightclub gear, they toned it down a bit to just sexy. Ilaria's dark blue jeans showed off her best ass-ets, which she had combined with a simple white ribbed tank top and black pointed boots. Gold hoop earrings swung from her ears as she tossed her hair, loose and wavy.
It was a more than appropriate outfit as they saw that Noe's prediction was true: a stag head was mounted above the door. Noe motioned violently to the head as he opened the door for Ilaria and Emmy. "See?" he hissed. Emmy grabbed his arm and yanked him over the threshold.
They were all pleasantly surprised by what they found on the inside. It had a modern industrial design—not the wood cabin look Noe had expected—large, spacious bar, tables and booths along the walls, and dim, moody lighting. Ilaria spotted pool tables at the back.
"Noe, look." Ilaria pointed to the shelves behind the bar. "There's actual liquor and wine." She covered her mouth in mock surprise.
"And there's only one animal carcass in here." Emmy pointed to the stag head above the bar that was a replica of the one outside.
"Fine, it doesn't smell like musty sweat in here," Noe observed grudgingly.
Ilaria pulled her friends toward the bar, squeezing her way through the crowd. "Let's get you liquored up."
"Wow, he's hot," Noe muttered behind her. "And so is he."
She spotted a woman with a familiar buzzed blond head sitting at the bar. "Elowine!"
Elowine and her two male companions all turned. Ilaria's skin tingled the instant Soren's eyes landed on her.
"Meet my friends, Noe and Emmy," Ilaria introduced. "And this is Elowine and Rowan." She watched them all greet each other. Elowine grinned at Emmy, who blushed.
"And you guys remember Soren." All eyes swung to Soren, but his eyes were glued to Ilaria. His black T-shirt fit snugly across his broad chest and shoulders, and his jeans, which looked both casual and polished, flattered his butt so well that all the women's heads—and a few of the men's—turned.. His hair was more tousled than usual tonight, making her fingers itch to run her hands through them.
He looked good. Too good.
His eyes were smoky gray tonight. She couldn't tell if it was the lighting or if he was angry, but she decided not to give a hoot. She was here to have a good time. Once she calmed the butterflies dancing in her stomach.
Noe waved his fingers at Soren. "Ah, doing the broody thing tonight. I like it."
Soren finally peeled his eyes away from Ilaria and looked at Noe. "What broody thing?"
"You know…" Noe glanced around at the women for help. They all nodded and laughed. "Mm-hmm, that right there."
Soren looked at Rowan for a translation, who shrugged. "I think they're saying you're always in a bad mood," Rowan said.
"Rowan can't help you," Ilaria quipped. She pointed to Soren. "Broody One—" then at Rowan, "—Broody Two."
More laughter.
"Is it always like this with them?" Ilaria asked Elowine.
"Always," she replied, chuckling.
Soren watched Ilaria, eyes gleaming.
Ilaria patted him on the chest. "Fine, we'll stop laughing at your expense."
His gaze burned into her, which did funny things to her insides.
Ilaria pulled her eyes away and leaned over the bar top, waving down the bartender. The bartender, whose name tag read "Jay," sauntered over, gave Ilaria a scan from head to toe, and then grinned. "What can I get you, beautiful?"
Ilaria looked back at the group. "Who wants a tequila shot?"
A chorus of "me's" rang out. "Five?" Ilaria counted. She cocked her head at Soren. "Soren?" She looked at him with dare in her eyes. Finally, he nodded. She broke out in a grin. "Six," she told the bartender.
"Done." Jay lined up the shot glasses. He pulled a bottle of tequila from the shelf.
"Not that one." Soren's baritone echoed through the group. He pointed. "That one."
Jay's eyebrows quirked up slightly, but he immediately grabbed the top shelf bottle and filled the glasses. Ilaria noted it was the most expensive tequila available.
Ilaria handed each person a glass. "Ready?" Everyone nodded. "To…friends and Chicago!"
"Friends and Chicago!"
They clinked glasses and drank. It was the best tasting liquor she had ever had, and it warmed and loosened her all the way through. Better just stick with the one shot, she decided. She couldn't afford to lose all her inhibitions tonight.
A round of beers came after that. Ilaria passed two glasses over to Noe and Emmy and took one for herself.
Noe leaned into her. "My God. Soren is even hotter than I remembered."
"Maybe it's the tequila talking," Ilaria responded wryly.
"No, it's those jeans talking," Emmy hissed under her breath. The three of them giggled behind their beers.
"Ilaria?" A voice called out from across the room. "Ilaria Carosi?"
She looked toward the voice.
Shit. Nick Bianchi was making his way toward her. Her almost-fiancé. The guy she rejected.
Aware of Soren's stare, and not wanting a showdown between Nick and Soren, Ilaria intercepted him before he reached the group.
"Nick, hi, how are you?" she asked, smiling weakly. She could feel Soren's stare boring into her back.
Nick leaned down to wrap his arms around her. He held on for a few beats too long. Yikes. She pulled back, and he looked down at her appreciatively. "You're looking even more gorgeous than the last time I saw you."
Ilaria gave him a tight smile. Nick was quite a catch, if she was honest. Tall, dark, handsome, and wealthy. But she had felt nothing when she first met him, and she felt nothing now.
Not to mention that someone in his family could have been responsible for her parents' deaths.
"Hey, I'm sorry about your parents." His face was somber.
She nodded. "Thanks, Nick, I appreciate that."
"If you need anyone to talk to, just call." His eyes roamed over her face.
She nodded again, knowing she never would.
"Are you seeing anyone?" He stepped in a little closer to her. She angled her body slightly and leaned away.
"Not at the moment. You?"
He shrugged. "Dating someone. Nothing serious." A light gleamed in his eyes. "Why don't we hang out sometime? Just friends."
Ilaria twisted her lips. "Thanks, Nick, I've just been really busy."
"No commitment, okay?" he interrupted. He laid his hand on her arm and smiled. "What's wrong with dinner among friends?"
"I should get back to my friends." She stepped back, expecting his hand to fall away.
Nick's hand tightened on her arm. "Come on, Ilaria," he said in a low voice. His eyes were almost desperate. "Don't be like this."
Ilaria's senses tingled, and she knew Soren had come up behind her. Nick's brown eyes flashed when he saw Soren.
She had to play this right. "Nick." Her voice hardened and her spine straightened. "Let's just get the elephant out of the way. I'm really sorry that the marriage alliance fell through. It wasn't personal. You seem like a nice guy. Any girl would be lucky to have you. But let me be super clear. I'm not interested in getting married. And I don't want to be friends."
Nick's eyes flashed with quick anger. "You're making a mistake."
"It's not a mistake," she said firmly. "Now remove your hand."
Soren moved to stand next to Ilaria. She also noticed Rowan standing to her other side.
"Who the fuck are you?" Nick snarled at Soren.
"The lady asked you to remove your hand." Quiet, dangerous words. The rage rippling off Soren was palpable.
Soren exceeded Nick by a few inches and fifty pounds of muscle. Nick's expression turned wary, and he removed his hand from Ilaria's arm.
"I really wish you the best, Nick." She lifted her chin and stared him down until he turned around and left. She let out the breath she was holding.
Soren scanned her face. "Are you okay?" he asked roughly.
"I'm fine," she said. "That was Nick Bianchi."
Soren nodded in understanding as he gave a hard stare at Nick's back, who had gone to the other side of the room. "We'll keep an eye on him."
Thirty minutes later, after shaking off the pent up energy, Ilaria ambled over to a pool table that had just opened up. "C'mon, Rowan," she called with a wicked grin. "Let's go a round. I know you play."
Challenge lit his eyes. "You're on," he said, walking over.
The rest of the group followed. Noe's face held a half grin. "Have you ever seen her play?" he muttered to Soren under his breath.
Curiosity lit Soren's eyes as he looked at Noe. "No. Is she any good?"
Noe just laughed.
"Why don't you go first?" Ilaria offered magnanimously.
Rowan looked at her, insulted. "Ladies first."
She shrugged. "If you insist."
Ilaria racked the balls as everyone gathered around to watch. It had been awhile since she'd played, and she could feel her competitive juices flowing. She selected a cue stick and chalked it.
She positioned the cue ball, leaned over, took a breath, and aimed.
Ilaria had always been able to block out her surroundings whenever she deeply focused on something, and pool was no exception. It had annoyed her parents to no end when she was a teenager, absorbed in doing something and never hearing them call her name. This ability to block out noise was a frustration for the people around her, but she considered it an invaluable skill.
The cue ball broke the rack, and the yellow and orange striped balls immediately pocketed.
"Guess I'm stripes," she said, stating the obvious.
Rowan's eyes narrowed.
Ilaria eyed the table, seeing her next shot. The background talking, laughing, and glasses clinking were distant sounds. "15 ball in the corner." A straightforward shot that landed cleanly.
"10 in the side pocket." Another clean shot.
Rowan's face was still impassive, but his jaw tensed.
Ilaria studied the table. She immediately saw all the angles, and she could have cleared all of her balls on the first go but decided that would be no fun.
Her next strike missed wide, and she smiled innocently at Rowan. "Bummer. Your turn."
He frowned as if he guessed what she was up to.
Rowan chalked the end of his cue stick, aimed, and quickly sunk three balls in a row. He was a good player, she admitted.
After he pocketed the fourth ball, Ilaria decided it should be her turn again.
As he picked up the chalk, she turned to Soren. "Have you heard from Niema?" she asked just loudly enough for Rowan to hear.
Soren looked at her sideways. "Not lately. Why?"
Ilaria watched as Rowan's next shot hit the corner of the pocket and bounced back to the middle of the table. "No reason," she replied as she walked back up to take her turn.
Soren chuckled behind her.
She banked the 14 and 11 balls. The last striped one, 12, took a little more finesse, but that one also dropped into a corner pocket.
Ilaria stood up and scrutinized the 8-ball. It was sitting in front of one corner pocket. But the cue ball was in front of the opposite corner pocket, blocked by a solid ball. She tapped her chin and smirked, eyeing Rowan. "Hmm, should I give you a turn so you can get that ball out of the way for me?"
Rowan glowered at her. "Don't you fucking dare." It was worse to be given a turn than to earn it.
She sighed. "Okay, then." She aimed the cue ball to hit the edge of the pocket. The white ball hit the edge of the rail, bounced off, traveled to the opposite corner, and knocked the 8-ball into the pocket.
Rowan blinked. Elowine, Emmy, and Noe clapped and cheered.
Ilaria walked over to Rowan with a satisfied smile. "Good game."
He shook his head with a rueful smile. "You knew that would happen."
She shrugged and chuckled.
"I need another beer," Rowan muttered as he traipsed to the bar.
The digital jukebox played one of Noe's favorite songs, and he pulled Emmy and Elowine to the tiny dance area that was already crowded with other sweaty bodies.
"How about we play a round?" Soren's deep voice was behind her.
Ilaria glanced at Soren in surprise. He was giving her the same look she had given him over the tequila shot. Her heart jumped.
"Sure, why not?" Playing it cool. "You first." He'd seen her play now. He should be scared.
"Nope. Ladies first," he drawled, echoing Rowan's sentiment.
Ilaria racked the balls again, hit her break shot, and this time dropped one of the solid balls into a side pocket.
She made quick work of two more solid balls. As she studied the table for her next shot, Soren came up next to her.
"I like the way those jeans look on you," he murmured, his voice low and rumbly..
Her chest did a little flip, but she turned to him with a steely look. "Don't bother with your distractions. They won't work."
But as she leaned over to aim, her thoughts were imagining Soren's eyes on her backside. The ball glanced off the edge of the pocket.
Ilaria clenched her teeth and glared at him. He gave her an innocent smile in return and chalked his cue stick.
She sauntered over to a nearby chair to watch. She could at least enjoy the show while she waited. It was her turn to admire Soren in his jeans. And the way his T-shirt wrapped around his biceps didn't look half bad, either.
He easily pocketed three balls. As he aimed his next shot, she rose from her chair, went to the opposite side of the pool table in his view, and leaned slightly suggestively onto the edge of the table.
The ball rolled around the edge of the pocket and rolled back out.
"My turn," she grinned brightly. His eyes simmered.
Ilaria took a breath. Focus. It was suddenly vital that she prove to herself—and him—that she was able to block him out. Block out his distractions. It would prove to her that his charms and looks had no effect on her. That she was still in control.
She knocked in three more balls. One more solid and the 8-ball, and the game was hers.
Her senses tingled, and she felt Soren behind her. "Just two more, love," he hummed. "I know you can do it." Then he ran his fingers lightly down her spine and stopped at the waistband of her jeans.
Ilaria nearly jumped out of her skin. She felt that light touch all the way down to her toes. She slapped his hand away. "Go sit over there," she barked.
He gave her a wicked grin and sat.
Her next shot wasn't even close, hitting the rail several inches from the pocket she was aiming for.
Goddammit. She gritted her teeth.
Soren got up, smirking. He led her to the chair. "You're required to stay seated while it's my turn," he ordered.
She scowled at him and sat.
He then pocketed the rest of the striped balls. Only the 8-ball was left.
Ilaria's pride was on the line. She could not let him win.
She lifted her hands and ran them through her hair, letting out an audible sigh. "It's hot in here, isn't it?" She lifted her hair off her neck and fanned herself, arching her back a little. Another deep breath in and whoosh out.
She didn't have to look at Soren to feel his gaze on her. When she finally lifted her eyes to his, they were burning into her.
"Are you done yet, Soren?" Her voice was breathy. "I need another drink."
Soren set his jaw, leaned down, aimed, and cracked the 8-ball into the corner pocket, dead center.
Then he dropped the stick, walked over to her, and grabbed her hand. He pulled her into the hallway, around the corner, and pushed her up against the wall with predatory intent.
"I win," he said. Then he crashed his lips onto hers.
Ilaria took a sharp inhale through her nose, unprepared for the intensity with which he kissed her, as if the last few times hadn't been enough, would never be enough.
She tugged his hair and pulled him even closer, answering his fervent kisses with her own. She parted her lips slightly and his tongue immediately swept in, stroking and tasting.
Soren's hands roamed everywhere, and his hips pinned hers to the wall, his erection already rock hard. Even through their clothes he felt huge. A mild panic rang through her mind. Were they going to finish this here, in this hallway in the back of the bar, with people passing by? Half of her jumbled mind wanted him to take her right there, against the wall.
The thought tumbled out of her mind when his hand slipped under her tank top to rub the bare skin on her stomach. She wanted him to go lower, to yank down her jeans and run his fingers down the center of her.
Ilaria spread her hands across the broad expanse of his chest, across the solid muscles under his skin. He was big. Imposing. Powerful. Dangerous. He could break her with one snap. Yet never had she felt unsafe with him. She inherently knew that if she said the word, he would immediately stop.
The real danger was to her heart.
He dragged his lips away from hers and trailed kisses from her ear down her neck, while his hands drifted under her bra, running his thumb lightly over the swell of the bottom of her breast.
She moaned softly, panting. His cock twitched against her belly.
Soren growled into the crook of her neck. "Why can't I stay away from you?" His thumb drifted higher, continuing to rub under her bra. His lips worked lower, below her collarbone, heat branding her skin.
Ilaria's eyes popped open, and she took a deep breath. "Soren?" she whispered.
His tongue traced circles at the base of her neck, between her collarbones. Her eyes closed again involuntarily.
She wanted this. She wanted to stop thinking and just feel.
He pulled back to gaze at her, his eyes nearly black with desire. "You're going to be the death of me," he rasped. His thumb edged higher under her bra until it hovered over the sensitive point. She couldn't look away even if she wanted to. As he held her gaze, his thumb grazed her nipple, so sensitive she gasped.
Soren's mouth covered hers again, swallowing her gasp, as he massaged the tip of her nipple in small circles.
Jesus. She needed both of their clothes off NOW.
"Get a room," a droll voice interrupted, yanking her back to the hallway. The voice turned to laughter and drifted away.
Soren pushed himself off and leaned against the opposite wall, breathing hard, watching her. The tent in his pants was obvious even in the dim light.
Her chest heaved, her hands tight at her sides to avoid reaching for him again. "Why do we keep doing this?"
"Maybe it's time we talk about this." He searched her face, taking a step toward her.
She held her hands up and he stopped. "Not—" A breath. "Not right now." She slowly walked back out to her friends.
Ilaria spent the rest of the evening avoiding Soren, all the while replaying the entire kiss in her mind over and over. Her friends seemed none the wiser. Noe was distracted by a cute guy he met, while Elowine and Emmy danced for most of the night.
"I definitely prefer men in bed, but Elowine is hot!" Emmy squealed in her ear.
Ilaria gave a small laugh. "Well, Elowine has a girlfriend, so maybe reset your expectations."
"Oh." Emmy actually looked disappointed, and then shrugged. "Oh well, I'll indulge in this fantasy for tonight." She reached for Elowine's hands and spun her around.
Only Rowan and his ever-present watchfulness seemed to sense something happened between her and Soren.
Ilaria finally convinced her friends it was time to leave. She gave Elowine and Rowan quick goodbye hugs, avoided eye contact with Soren, and ushered Noe and Emmy outside toward the SUV with Wallace and Murray still waiting.
As the car drove off, her phone beeped.
Soren: We're going to talk about this. Soon.