I looked up and saw Duran, Lucien’s younger brother whom I hadn’t seen in several years, heading toward us. He was smaller than Lucien, but handsome with piercing, black eyes and a wicked curve to his mouth. His hand was wrapped around the wrist of a curvy redheaded girl who looked bored. If the rumors about Duran were true, she was probably being paid to be on his arm.
“Fantastic, you’re here,” he said. “Hey, Olivia, good seeing you. Romano wants to speak with you upstairs, Lucien, before you leave tonight.”
“I assumed he would,” Lucien said, adjusting his cuffs. “Who is this?”
He was staring at the redhead with a narrowed gaze that surprised me. Duran rolled his eyes and leaned close to him and whispered something. Lucien frowned slightly and replied under his breath in Italian and Duran nodded. I could speak Italian fairly well, but it was hard for me to understand unless I could hear it clearly so I wasn’t sure what he’d said.
“Alright, I’ll catch up with you later,” Lucien said, drawing back and taking my hand.
His fingers felt large and lean in mine, the coarse pad of his thumb working absently over my knuckle. As he led me from the hall to the main area at the base of the curved staircase, I felt his thumb move from my knuckle to the enormous engagement ring on my finger. He worked it with gentle strokes and immediately the image of his hand disappearing beneath my dress burst into my mind. How would it feel for him to do the same between my legs, against my clit?
No, now wasn’t the time to think about Lucien’s hard, lean fingers touching my pussy. I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief moment as we drew to a halt before the bar and shook my head to clear it.
“What’s wrong?” Lucien asked.
“Nothing, sorry, everything is just so…there’s a lot to look at,” I said.
“Romano knows how to throw a party,” he said in a careful tone.
He was standing mere inches away, his elbow leaned on the cherry wood bar. I had never been this close to him before, my breasts almost grazing the front of his fine, Italian suit. He smelled of cologne, a rich, masculine scent.
When I raised my gaze up to his, I noticed for the first time that his eyes weren’t truly hazel. There was a bit of blue around the iris, penetrating out with long tines, like ice spreading over dark water. The edges of his irises were green and brown mottled together and the very outer ring was a deep, deep blue. From far away, his eyes appeared to be hazel, but from close up, they were almost multicolored.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked.
I opened my mouth and then paused. “I know this is silly, but I’m not actually old enough to drink.”
He hesitated and a flicker of discomfort crossed his face. “Yes, I forgot. It’s alright though, no one here minds.”
“I wouldn’t know what to get.”
“How about a Prosecco?” he murmured.
“I don’t know what that is, but sure,” I said.
His mouth twitched. He drew back and leaned across the bar to catch the bartender’s attention.
“I’ll have a cognac, neat, and a Prosecco, your choice, for the lady,” he said.
The bartender handed over the glasses and Lucien led the way to the edge of the dance floor in the next room. It was a beautiful, black and white checked floor full of men and women swirling to the sounds of the orchestra. I recognized a few faces, but my parents had never had much use for taking me to social events so most of them were unfamiliar.
Lucien put his glass to his lips and made that same gesture as he swallowed. A slight grimace and then a flexing of his jaw. For some reason, I found it incredibly attractive. He glanced over and caught me staring and I looked away.
“Have you drunk before?” he asked.
“A little, not much though,” I said. “I never really wanted to. And my mother didn’t allow me to because it’s empty calories.”
He blinked. “Empty calories?”
“That’s what she calls junk food or any drinks that aren’t water.”
He nodded slowly, but I could tell he didn’t quite understand. I lifted the Prosecco to my lips and let the bubbly taste swirl over my tongue. It was good, better than I’d expected. I took another sip and enjoyed the warm, fizzing sensation as it slid down to my stomach.
“Lucien.”
We turned at the same time and Lucien stepped closer to me in a fluid movement. Carlo Romano stood in the doorway, his hands behind his back. He was a tall, lean man with dark hair slicked back over his head and glittering black eyes. His nose was a little hooked and his mouth was a fine gash across his jaw. The only evidence of his age was a few bits of gray hair by his ears and a few creases across his forehead. He might have been handsome if he hadn’t looked so…predatory.
“Ah, Carlo, good to see you,” Lucien said, switching to Italian.