Romero’s eyes lingered on the shape of his phone in my pants, but I knew he wouldn’t try to get it. “This isn’t funny.”
“No it isn’t, you’re right,” I said sharply. “I’m an adult. If I tell you to take me to a club, I don’t want you to ask my husband for permission. I’m not a child, nor am I his property.”
“You are Luca’s,” Romero said calmly.
I stepped up to him, so close that I had to tilt my head back. “Gianna and I are going to a club. So unless you want to keep me at gunpoint, you’ll drive us there or let us leave alone.”
Romero’s jaw tightened. The look in his eyes made me realize why he was my bodyguard. For the first time I was reminded that Romero was a killer. “I’ll drive you. But you will go to Sphere. It’s Luca’s.”
“Is it any good?” Gianna asked.
“It’s hotter than the fucking Marquee.” Romero was really pissed.
“Take us there then.” He put on his jacket and led us to the elevator. “Luca won’t like it,” he said.
***Gianna and I sat in the back as Romero steered the car through traffic. I pulled the phone out and checked what Romero had been writing.
A wants to hit a club. Permission?
He had managed to send it off before I’d snatched it, but Luca’s reply had come afterward.
No
My blood boiled. Gianna huffed. “I can’t fucking believe his nerve.”
Romero glanced at us through the rearview mirror. “Did Luca reply?”
“Yeah,” I said. “He said you should stay close at all times.”
Romero bought my lie and actually relaxed. Gianna winked. Luca would go through the roof, but I really couldn’t bring myself to care. Romero parked the car in a side alley and led us around the building. A long line of partygoers waited in front of the entrance but Romero ushered us past it.
“Hey you stupid fucker, there’s a line,” a guy shouted. Romero stopped, a cold anger replacing his usual calm.
“Go ahead,” Romero said to us before he turned around to the guy. Gianna gripped my hand and dragged me toward the two bouncers at the front. They were as tall and muscled as Luca.
“You don’t look old enough to hit a club,” the dark-skinned man said.
“Is that a problem?” Gianna asked with a flirty smile.
The man’s eyes moved to something behind me. “Romero,” he said with a hint of confusion.
“She belongs to the boss, Jorge. This is Aria Vitiello and her sister Gianna Scuderi of the Chicago Outfit.”
Both men stared at me, then stepped back respectfully. “We didn’t know she was coming tonight. The boss didn’t say anything,” Jorge said.
Romero grimaced, but didn’t say anything. Instead he led Gianna and me inside, past the cloakroom tinged in bluish light and a bar area. Behind it the doors opened to a dark dance floor. Blue and white light flashed and hip hop beats blasted toward us. Gianna tugged at my hand, wanting to go in that direction.
“We should go to Luca first,” Romero said.
“He’s here?” I asked surprised.
Romero nodded. “The club has several backrooms and a basement where we handle some business.”
“Why don’t you go tell him I’m here while Gianna and I hit the dance floor.”
Romero gave me a look. “No chance in hell.”
“That’s your problem then. Gianna and I are going dancing.” Romero grasped my wrist. I tensed. “Let me go right this second,” I hissed and he did, his chest heaving. Gianna and I walked into the club. The beat vibrated under our feet as if the floor had come to life. The club was crowded with writhing bodies. Romero shadowed my sister and me as we squeezed through the throng of dancers toward another bar area.
“Two gin tonic,” I said. The barman frowned briefly before noticing Romero, then he prepared our drinks and handed them to us. Romero leaned over the bar and said something to the man, who nodded and walked around the bar. I knew what it meant. I took a deep gulp of my drink, then set it down and moved onto the dance floor.
I let the music claim my body and started writhing to the beat. Gianna grinned widely, throwing her head back. She looked happier than I’d seen her in a long time. She moved her hips and butt, shaking and rotating her hips. I stepped closer and mimicked her motions. Our eyes locked as we lost all sense of everything around us, as we let the beat carry away who we were. I wasn’t sure where Romero was and I didn’t care. This felt like freedom.
Men were watching us. I didn’t return their hungry gazes. It wouldn’t be fair to lead them on. Gianna didn’t share my restraint. She smiled and flirted, batted her eyelashes and ran her hands through her hair. A few men started dancing around us. Gianna pressed up to one of them, hands on his chest. Another man raised his eyebrows at me, but I shook my head. He opened his mouth then closed it and backed away.
I didn’t need to look back. I kept dancing. I knew who was behind me, knew from the looks of respect from the men around me, from the looks of admiration from the women. I rotated my hips, thrust my butt out, raised my arms. Firm hands came down on my hips. For a second I worried they belonged to some suicidal idiot, but they were the strong big hands I knew. I arched, pressing my butt against a crotch. I smiled. I was wrenched against a muscled body and Luca’s hot breath brushed my ear. “Who are you dancing for?”
I tilted my head to stare into his blazing gray eyes. “You. Only you.”
Luca’s expression was hungry, but there was still a hint of anger too. “What are you doing here?”
“Dancing.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I told Romero ‘no’”
“I’m not your possession Luca. Don’t treat me like one.”
His fingers on my waist tightened. “You are mine Aria, and I protect what’s mine.”
“I don’t mind being protected, but I do mind being imprisoned.” I turned in Luca’s arms, catching a glimpse of Gianna in a heated argument with Matteo. “Dance with me,” I shouted.