CHAPTER 3
LILY
I should have stayed home. Damn it. I shouldn’t have put on this dress. I should not have come down to Sala. The moment I stepped through the doors and was met with the interior of the club, I knew I was out of my depth.
Maybe if I had spent a little more time going out when I was in school, I wouldn’t feel completely out of my element. I don’t have the luxury for what ifs anymore. Not when I still need to speak to Constantino.
How the hell do I even find him in the throng of people around me? The music is far too loud to even fucking ask anyone.
When I asked the bouncer about speaking to Mr. Agosti, all I got was a knowing look and a smirk for my troubles. I have my doubts asking the bartender is going to go any better.
I keep tugging at my dress because I feel so damn uncomfortable. It’s too short. It’s too fucking tight.
It might be high end and designer, but what does it matter if I feel like everyone is staring at me. Not in a good, ‘oh look at her’ kind of way either. Nope.
I swear I’ve had a nightmare like this before.
In order to not get swept up in the throng of people on the dance floor, I edge my way around it and toward the bar. I don’t think I’ll be able to set up a meeting this way, but maybe a drink wouldn’t be so bad. I should keep my head on straight but trying to track down the second most powerful man in the city while my hands are shaking isn’t exactly a good look either.
I didn’t think this through.
When the bartender, a very attractive man with a dangerous edge, looks my way, I raise a hand. Did I just wave at him?Fucking hell, Lily, pull yourself together.
It was like a damn princess wave too.
So fucking embarrassing.
He ambles his way over to me, all swagger and smooth glide. The smirk on his face is one I’ve grown up around. It’s the look a man gets when he thinks he’s going to be able to put his full charm behind something.
If he thinks it’s me, he’s going to be sorely mistaken.
Even if I wasn’t completely out of my element, I’m not stupid. I also can’t deny the only man who has occupied my thoughts and fantasies has been Constantino since the moment I met him. It’s so wrong. It’s dangerous.
It’s inevitable.
Constantino is the most attractive man I’ve ever met and the way his turquoise eyes have haunted me has left me in a constant state of arousal since meeting him. It’s the only thing which has kept me from being consumed by the grief.
Who knew forbidden, dangerous lust and need could make me forget, at times, about my father’s murder?
The bartender looks at me expectantly, “What can I get for you,bella?”
I blink once and then square my shoulders. It’s not the first time I’ve been called beautiful, and his compliment does nothing for me. There’s a glint in his eye, as if he expects me to order something girly and sweet.
“Hammond Whiskey, on the rocks,” my voice isn’t cold, but it’s not exactly warm either.
His eyes narrow, but then he smiles at me as if I’m a damn beam of sunshine or something. It makes me want to scream at him, but I don’t. I keep it inside. Barely.
I feel the man next to me watching me. I don’t want to look, but I can’t help myself. The way he’s looking at me makes my eyes widen as a shiver of fear runs through me. It’s one of those looks which makes a woman clutch her keys a little tighter and hope she remembered to put her pepper spray in her bag.
I don’t like it at all.
The bartender places my drink in front of me and I focus on him, almost hoping he tries to hit on me again. I reach for my clutch, but he waves a hand. “That one is on me,bella.” His eyes run over my body, and he leans forward as his voice drops a little. “I enjoy a woman with some fire who can surprise me.”
When he stands up again and I reach for my drink, hoping no one notices my shaky hand, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The bartender looks over my shoulder, his posture going rigid, his eyes darting down to me and then back over my shoulder. I know who is standing right behind me without turning.
Do I even want to turn?
As I sip my drink, I ponder the question. Do I have a choice?