Luciano was very handsome. Tall, muscular, and tan, he looked like he’d been vacationing on his yacht in the Riviera. He kept his almost-black hair shorter on the sides and longer everywhere else. Always looking impeccable in his designer clothing, he drove the most expensive cars, lived in a stunning Great Falls mansion once owned by Colton Mitus, and he paid a gazillion dollars for round-the-clock security.
Without so much as a single hair out of place, he always looked photo-shoot ready. Like he could glide onto a movie set and assume the leading-man role, simply by how he carried himself, the deep timbre of his voice, the way he commanded control. There was an essence of danger that surrounded him no matter where he was, what he did, or who he was with.
She adored him, but she wasn’t attracted to him. Plus, she imagined every woman within a two-hundred-mile radius of DC was vying to get her talons into him.
He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Did my cousin upset you today?”
She held his gaze.Not going there.
“My gut tells me the missing women are connected to the alleged prostitution ring,” she continued. “I’m concerned they’ve been trafficked.”
“Not backing down?”
“Hell, no.”
“I might have a solution,” he said.
She smiled. “I knew you’d come through for me.”
“There’s one man who might help you out.”
“He better be good because it’s gotta look real.”
“He’s the best at what he does.”
“There are cameras in the club, and I saw one in the dressing room,” she said.
His upper lip curled into a snarl. “Find the eyes behind the camera, you’ll find the prize.”
“Exactly. So, is it someone who works for you?”
“It’s me,” said a familiar voice behind her.
She spun around, and her traitorous heart leapt into her throat.
Carrera stood there, all man, all muscle, no more than twenty feet away.
