Passion

Throwing Hands

Lilith's POV

The penthouse was ready as it should, seems Delilah is too, the way her eyes took interest on the plates, the chandelier I commissioned years ago to be this beautiful gothic style way I always wanted.

As we all sat down, I started questioning without making it obvious or rude or being a bitch, I'm a bitch but I can be a bitch if it means I can keep an eye on a certain peste who would try and ruin someone I care about.

And quick responses, as if, was rehearsed over and over in front of a mirror, like a way with someone who wants either to make a good impression or someone who doesn't want to be caught in a lie without a proper reason, she's a dancer, obviously, she got a rocking body, I can give her that. No shame in it if she's still doing it, she got her own place, clearly since Scarlett has been spending time over at her place.

Scarlett with her look, my girl can give me her cop eyes all she wants but I winked at her because she's my girl and I'm looking out for her in a calming and professional way until she pisses me off. Rachael kept studying Delilah, focusing on her face and voice, trying so damn hard to remember if she met or come across, yet nothing, pisses her off as expected but I kept the dinner going.

Offering Delilah some more wine, red and white wine, she didn't say no to that which is good, keep her talking, along with the food.

Of course she complimented the cooking, how the stake was incredible, how the flavor enhanced it, the sides, I kept my eyes on her while caressing Rio's cheek, he gently took it and kissed my palm and kept eating.

Rachael let out a sigh, "Sorry, but are you sure we never met? Where in New York are you from?"

"Queens, of course." Quick response, and the tight squeeze on my thigh, I didn't need to glance back to Rio, I know my man.

Racheal responded back with, "Brooklyn."

"Really? Wow. What about you, Lilith?" Oh the way she said my name with that damn tongue of hers, I kept smiling, "Syracuse."

She turned to Scarlett, the way her nails softly caressing her cheek, "What about you, baby, I forgot where you mentioned you were from."

"Manhattan."

"Amazing. You have a great place, this penthouse is beautiful and so nice."

"Thanks."

I kept it short.
Polite.

My fingers traced slow, absent patterns against Rio’s arm now, but my attention never left her. Not for a second.

Because the shift was subtle, but it was there.

She’d mapped us out.

Racheal from Brooklyn. Me from Syracuse. Scarlett from Manhattan.

And now she was adjusting.

Recalibrating.

Across from me, Rio set his glass down quietly.
Too quietly.

I felt it before I saw it, the slight change in him. The way his posture settled, like he’d just confirmed something in his head.

And then, casually, like it meant nothing at all,
“Queens, huh?” he said, glancing up at her. “What part?”

There it was.

No tension in his voice.

No pressure.

Just a question.

But I knew that tone.

That was the one he used right before everything unraveled.

She blinked, just for a second I caught it, she was caught off guard.