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Bored with my moodiness, Sandro’s gaze had drifted to the dancers again.
He whistled under his breath. “Red is smoking,” he said.
“Then why don’t you marry her and have her pop out some babies to keep your mother happy?” I growled.
“Never in a million years,” he said with a smirk.
His phone buzzed.
“Careful,” I warned. “If Nina catches you with that, no more Bordello for you.”
Sandro grimaced. “Pressing business,” he murmured, clasped his hand on my shoulder in farewell, and beat a hasty retreat.
I yawned, a mix of frustrated boredom and weariness from overworking and under sleeping. My bed in my apartment upstairs sounded good right now, but the damn place was a reminder not only of Beth, but that horrified look on her face when she’d found Dolly.
Her big wide eyes. Her little gasping pants of disbelief.
I really needed another drink, but the nearest hostess was busy at another booth. I glanced towards the bar, at which a queue had formed. No Beth there to sweetly keep the customers satisfied.
I used to sit in this booth and watch her there, giving her coy smiles to every man she served, wanting to kill them. Wrap my hands around their throats and throttle them for daring to talk to her. To smile at her. To ask her for her number.
Those smiles of hers would have driven me crazy if it wasn’t always the same smile, carefully polite, carefully distant, making it clear they could only ever ask her for a drink.
I would have killed any man who broke the rules and tried to take her out from behind that bar. But she’d always kept them at arm’s length, that cool shield in those intoxicating, elusive eyes of hers.
But I’d gotten to know those eyes. I’d seen how the universe split apart in them when I was inside her and came together again when she came back to me.
No one knew those eyes like I did. No man here. I was certain of that.
Goddamnit. If I had wanted to forget Beth tonight, I had come to the wrong damn place.
The music faded. The red-headed dancer glided off stage, ignoring the various men who tried to intercept her, and made a beeline for me.
She really was gorgeous up close, the silver glimmering stuff all over her skin rendering her an otherworldly faerie. But her eyes were blue, not green.
“You must be Marco,” she purred, her hand sliding lightly down my chest. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
She shimmied, her stunning figure commanding everyone’s attention. She leaned in, no doubt to whisper something dirty in my ear, but I stood abruptly, catching her by surprise and making her squeal.
She pouted when I handed her a banknote and stalked off. I really wasn’t in the mood for some dancer. I wasn’t in the mood for anything, and that was the damn problem.
I made my way towards the exit, feeling nothing but relieved as I retrieved my phone from the bouncer. As I stepped outside, I noticed a missed call.
My heart clenched like a vice in my chest, foolishly hoping it might be Beth. But I laughed bitterly at myself. Beth wouldn’t be calling.
It was undoubtedly work, and as I had nothing better to do, I listened to the voicemail. My laughter died in my throat as I heard Beth’s voice, strained and filled with fear.
“Marco, we’re in your house,” she whispered. “Please, please come. Men are here stealing your gold. They have guns. It’s Jacob. I’m with—”
Her voice stopped in a gasp, then she screamed. The line went dead.
Panic surged through me. Beth was in my house. Beth was in danger.
Every damn thought went out of my mind.
I sprinted to my car parked outside the club. The tires screeched as I peeled away from the curb. The streets blurred by as adrenaline coursed through my veins, propelling me closer to home.
Except I was too late. The voicemail had been left thirty minutes ago. I had already failed her.
