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A waiter passes by us, carrying a tray of drinks. Drago throws the spoon he’s been holding this whole time, and it clatters on the surface, hitting one of the glasses.
“I’m not speaking about your ridiculous clothes, Sienna.”
His gaze holds mine, piercing and serious, somehow primal in its intensity. Sometimes, I believe he can devour me with his eyes alone.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see people throwing curious looks at us. My dress has ridden all the way up my thighs, providing everyone a full view of my legs and, probably half my ass, but I don’t give a single fuck. My whole being is attuned to Drago, to being in his arms. He’s all I see. All I feel. Even with all the scents filling the air around us, the only one I smell is his subtle mint fragrance. I’ve never been so mesmerized by a person.
“Were you really going to take that guy’s eyes out?” I whisper when Drago’s gaze shifts to my lips.
His jaw clenches, and he turns around, carrying me toward his private booth “Tara talks too much.”
I glance over Drago’s shoulder at the exit where two security men are pushing the banker outside, Tara overseeing their efforts. She looks up and, with a wink, raises her thumb.
When we reach the big leather sofa, my legs untangle from behind Drago’s back, but instead of letting me down, he takes a seat with me straddling his lap. I release my hold on his hair and trail my fingers along his chin to his mouth. He parts his lips, his teeth nipping the tip of my index finger.
“What was that for?” I ask.
“A punishment for distracting me from my mission.”
“Do you often have an urge to take people’s eyeballs out?” I ask, even though I’m still expecting him to say that Tara was simply fucking with me.
A small smirk forms on his face. “No. It’s a rather new development.”
I let my thumb stroke the curve of his lips, then slide my palm along his jaw. The music blasting from the speakers changes to a slow melody—“The Sound of Silence.” This song was playing when we met, and I remember how his mere presence affected me at the time.
There was wonder and instant attraction, and I felt a strange pull toward him without even knowing who he was. But, simultaneously, there was another sensation that I couldn’t identify, too overwhelmed by his essence.
I recall it now. A subtle tendril of fear, a primal instinct, as if my subconscious was trying to warn me that a very dangerous man was standing before me. I ignored it.
“There is no pet assassin,is there? When I heard Adam talking about the priest, he was talking about you.”
Drago’s gaze leaves my lips, moving it up to meet mine. He’s not smiling anymore, and his answer is just there, clearly visible in his eyes. I think that deep down, I always knew the truth.
“Pop is an old nickname from when we were young punks, back in Serbia. Adam is the only one who still calls me that sometimes.”
His rough voice reverberates through my being, straight to my heart, each word falling like a boulder on my soul. I was born into Cosa Nostra, and the ways of the Mafia are not unknown to me. Every man I’ve ever met has probably taken a life at least once, but other than our don, none are so vicious in meting out their brand of justice. I wait for my consciousness to rebel, for the feeling of dread to rise, suffocate me. It doesn’t come.
Ever since I can remember, I’ve felt like a circus performer—standing on a ball, trying to keep my balance, the fear of crashing down always present in my mind. No real aim or purpose, other than keeping myself upright while even the tiniest movement of the ball under my feet made me flail my hands in the air, trying to regain my equilibrium.
As I stare at my husband’s somber face, I realize I haven’t felt like that for quite some time. For the first time in my life, I feel as if I’m standing on solid ground, in the arms of a man who nails the bodies of his enemies to the walls.
“Say something, Sienna.” Drago’s eyes are glued to my lips, waiting for my reaction. His teeth are clenched tight, mouth pressed into a thin line.
“Why the cross?” I ask, my voice barely audible.
“It’s a signature. A play on my old nickname. A way to send a message to those who might get an idea about coming at me or mine.”
“And what’s the message?”
“That I will absolve them of their sins. Personally. And in blood. The same way I did to the people who killed my family.”
“You found them?”
“Every single one. No one touches my family and remains breathing.” His hand travels along my jaw toward my chin and then back to squeeze my nape. “And no one gets to ogle my sparkling wife. Whoever dares, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing they’ll ever see.”
I suck in a breath and lean forward a bit. With my dress around my hips, Drago’s hard dick is pressing directly onto my pussy. He tilts his head to the side and reaches for a small remote lying on the sofa’s arm. A moment later, the two lamps on either side of the booth turn off, shrouding our immediate space in semidarkness. All around us, the lights above the dance floor, other booths, as well as at the bar are still on, but we’re left in the shadows, mostly hidden from prying eyes.
Drago’s hands land on my thighs, then slowly push the fabric of my dress higher. I can’t hear his ragged breaths with the music blasting overhead, but I can feel his warm exhales on my face.
