“The Hulkster,” I hiss.
Edward looks at me with his usual exasperated expression. Honestly, he looks as if I’m speaking ancient Aramaic or some nonsense. Actually, scratch that. Mr. Oxford-educated brain trust is probably an expert in ancient Aramaic. He’d likely be more puzzled by ig-pay atin-lay.
“Pardon? Lou Ferrigno is here? I think this is hardly the time for celeb spotting, darling.”
I roll my eyes at his apparent inability to keep up. “No, brain trust. Not Lou Ferrigno. His name is Felix, and he spotted me at the Volturi gala. He’s across the piazza by the fountain, and I think he’s spotted us.”
Arching an eyebrow, clearly surprised by this news, “Where? Wait? What? Are you telling me that you actually were spotted the night of the gala by someone other than me?”
“Two someones, actually. Felix and Aro.”
“Bloody hell! What do they teach you Yanks over there on that bleedin’ cattle ranch?”
“It’s called ‘The Farm’, English, and it’s on the east coast not out in big sky country. Don’t look now, but tall, dark, and hulky is heading straight for us.”
"I don't like it. He's looking at you like you’re a piece of meat."
I cough to stifle a laugh, because that’s exactly what I said when I first saw Felix eyeing me up and down at the gala.
He hisses lowly “What about this bloke looking like he’d like to make a snack of you is so ruddy funny?”
