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“But—”
“No.” This time, the refusal comes from Vito as he saunters past her and she flops her arms at her side like a petulant child. Fuck, she’s too much fun, and far more adorable than she even realizes. Behind all of her walls and anger that she projects to prevent anyone from getting close, there’s a lost soul underneath, trapped by whatever haunts her.
I have an inkling it links to her father, but that’s not for me to say. I simply watch and explore, and I can’t deny the fact that I’m learning much more about her from the small interactions we continue to have than I thought we would.
In my gut, I know she’s right, we’re not doing too well at keeping her as a prisoner, a captive, but that’s a little hard when she chose to come with us.
As I near her, I flash her a wink, making her glare at me as I slide up beside Nonna to place a kiss on her forehead, before hightailing it out of there.
I’m only a few steps behind the others as Torres explains the situation. “The men operating the nightclub called in an emergency because there’s been a break-in, and the only other word I got out of the message was that it was the Russians.”
Fuck.
They are not happy with us, which pisses me off more because these fuckers think the world revolves around them. We didn’t leave because of them, we left because ofher, but they’ll never believe us unless we tell them who she is. The mere thought of that alone twists my stomach, and I know that’s not the answer to the situation.
Despite that, they've hit our cargo now, taking action before asking questions, and there’s no coming back from that.
“Do you want me to come in thedark?” I ask, moving in to step with Vito as we walk through the front door, my gaze fixed on Matteo as he nods. There are three SUVs parked outside ready to roll, and without another word, Matteo, Vito, Torres, and the men waiting outside begin to pile in. I, however, move around to the left of the house where our garage is.
The door is already open from the SUVs being rolled out, and a grin takes over my face when I spy my matte-black Ducati parked in the far corner. With its two hundred and thirty-seven horsepower, paired with its one hundred and eleven newton-meters of torque, it’s my new favorite toy. Any excuse to climb on board and I’m there for it.
Grabbing my helmet from the hook beside it, I waste no time throwing my leg over the seat and climbing on. I can’t imagine what I look like in my full suit on the back of a sports bike, but I couldn’t give a shit. Revving the engine as I kick up the stand, I can feel myself vibrating with excitement despite the issues we’re going to face.
I roll the bike out of the garage to find the SUVs waiting, but once they see me approaching, they start to move and I take off down the stone path behind them. The second we get to the front gates to the property, they take a left turn and I go right.
With nothing but a clear open road before me, I floor it. Set up in the hills like this means the winding roads are surrounded by trees and nature, and it only increases the care-free vibe that washes over me as the wind hits my body.
My mind wanders back to Wren. The damn woman has fucked with my brain. I want her. I’ve wanted her since the very first night we saw her in the sex club and believed her name was Ava, and even with the revelations that have followed, I am still drawn to her.
I’m like a moth to the flame, and I’m not afraid of getting burned.
But what does that say about me? A De Luca doesn’t allow anyone to pull the rug from under their feet. We make examples of them. So what does that make me when she’s still breathing, sleeping in my home, and eating food at my fucking table?
So. Fucked.
Shaking my head, I focus on the task at hand and whatever the Russians think they’re going to accomplish at our downtown nightclub. Luca’s has been the base of our business for as long as I can remember. My father’s favorite spot was always called his headquarters because he liked to entertain those he was in business with there in the VIP area.
As the country lanes turn into busy roads, I tamp down any thoughts but those that matter to the business. Despite being on the bike and feeling the euphoria I get from riding it, I push it all down, becoming a shell of the man I am as my mind only envisions the enemy.
Taking a right turn, I see the nightclub up ahead. I believe it was once a warehouse, standing on its own, which is likely why my father was so drawn to it. No one to hear gunshots, no one to complain about noise, yet a hotspot that everyone wants to gain an access to.
My knuckles tighten around the handlebars as my spine stiffens. The three SUVs pull up at the front of the building, while I slow myself down and circle around to the back.
Whoever has stepped foot on our property and caused a commotion is going to fucking regret it. Because we’re poised, well collected, and dressed in suits. More so than not, others may see us as easy targets, but that only makes destroying them all the more fun.
Underneath our designer suits and polished shoes are bones of steel, hardened hearts, and soulless men. It’s a pity they only get a glimpse of that for a small moment before we end their life.
Around the back of the building, a metal fencing acts as an added layer of security, locked with a high-tech system, which I open with a fob on my keys as I roll toward the gate. The second I’m inside and pushing down the kickstand on my bike, the gate closes again.
Hanging my helmet off the handle bar, I straighten my blazer and run my fingers through my hair before checking my weapons. There’s always a gun at my hip and a blade at my ankle, and the feel of both of them helps me relax a little as my shoulders roll back.
I glance around me, making sure my Ducati is perfectly placed in front of the security cameras we have set up, before heading for the metal emergency exit door. Slipping the key out of my pocket, I twist the lock and pry it open slightly, listening for any noise on the other side. When I don’t hear anything, I open it further to slip inside before shutting it quietly behind me. I make a conscious effort to let as little light in as possible, my palm resting against my gun as I scan the dark hallway.
Pleased I’m alone, I move straight ahead toward the door I know leads out into the main area of the nightclub. There’s a small panel of glass in the door, offering me a glimpse of the room, but I don’t see anybody from this angle.
I peer through the window to make sure there’s no one down here, and although I can’t see anyone, I hear voices. Confident they’re not located near me, I twist the door handle and silently slip through the small opening I created for myself before plastering my back to the wall at my right.
It’s strange as hell to see the nightclub in the daytime without it jam-packed with people moving and grinding together. There is usually no space to move for people enjoying the buzz of alcohol thrumming through their veins, but thankfully, no one is here right now, which means if there are going to be casualties, it’s not going to be someone completely innocent. It also helps that the resident DJ isn't here blasting music too, so I can understand what’s going on.
