Dario DeLuca: Savage Bloodline

18. Mia

EIGHTEEN

I slamthe cell phone down, my heart pounding. Another vendor is bailing at the last minute. Sticky notes and color-coded binders litter the table. There are two days until the community center’s grand opening, and everything”s unraveling.

”Dario,” I call his name, needing to plead my case.

All the restrictions he has around making calls and running my business the way I usually would is making it hard as hell to get anything done.

He strolls in, his gaze roaming my frazzled state, taking in my hair in a messy bun and yoga pants stained with ink; he lifts a brow. Almost as if seeing me disheveled makes him happy. You know how when you really like a person, every little quirk of theirs is cute and brings a smile to your face? Yeah, well, that’s how he’s looking at me right now, and I hate that I’m so keenly aware of that.

Why does he have to be so damn sexy? Making sticking to my guns on hating him harder and harder.

”What”s wrong, tesoro?” he says, his voice irritatingly smooth.

”‘What”s wrong’?” I gesture wildly at the storm that is my makeshift office, forcing myself to get the smoothness of his voice out of my head. ”The caterer dropped out…for my mixer.”

Picking up the notepad, I aggressively scribble out the name and toss the pad back onto the table.

“The floral arrangements were canceled due to a mix-up with their supplier,” I continue, with a frustrated wave of my arms. “And the student performances I booked? Their parents just pulled them because of some bullshit liability concern.”

Dario”s jaw tics, but he maintains that unruffled demeanor maddeningly well. ”Seems like you need help.”

”No shit, Sherlock.” I rake my hands through my curls. ”You know. Maybe if I could make calls without worrying about being tracked…”

”You know why that”s necessary,” he emphasizes, cutting me off and asserting his authority again.

And typically, I would fight back, but with everything for my influencer event going to shit, I don’t have the energy. So, instead of dishing out some smart remark, I nod, forcing a breath. Besides, I already know his response—it’s all for my protection, something he’s been super focused on since our meeting. But the last time he updated me, there was no longer a threat, so why the hell does it still feel like we’re running for our lives?

”Relax, Bella.” Dario pushes off the doorframe. “I”ll handle this,” he says, already striding away.

And once again, all my worries seem to roll off that broad back of his.

Dario…always to the rescue, is what I want to say, but instead, I respond, “Thanks.”

Then, just like that, I’m alone again as he gives me his back on the way out of my room. He’ll take care of that, but a million other loose ends are slipping through my fingers.

I scour through my lists and cross reference for rush fees and availability. Most of these vendors need a twenty-four-hour notice, but I need a miracle because I only have two hours to pull this off, or it goes to shit.

”Hey, Mia.” Evelyn greets me with a smile, catching me by surprise. “Dario sent for me. Said something about you needing some help for tonight. Well, more like insisting that I take care of the preparations.”

There’s slight laughter in her voice. I know she meant it as a joke. From what I can tell and what she’s done for Dario’s campaign, she enjoys working for him. At least one of us is happy to be tied to that man in some form.

A sense of relief washes over me, and I quickly pull her in for a hug. ”You”re a lifesaver.”

I don’t care how or why she’s here to help, just that she’s here. With little instruction, Evelyn flits about with quiet efficiency, making calls, juggling agendas, and problem-solving left and right. It’s pretty dope to see. I”ve never seen someone command respect so effortlessly,

And she doesn’t have to strong-arm a person to do it.

Under her unruffled guidance, the missing pieces start slotting into place. Replacement vendors are secured thanks to her connections. Given my restrictions, I handle the final count of social media influencers stoked about attending and design the content for Dario’s team to post. Local dignitaries RSVP”d with enthusiastic interest in the programs we”re unveiling to help the underserved community.

“Thank you,” Evelyn says, her eyes wide with excitement. Ending her call, she approaches. “So, I just got off the phone with channel WBMB, and they will have a crew there for the entire event, opening, of course, and run a feature story ahead of the opening. Not only will this put eyes on what you and your father’s foundation have accomplished, but since this is also in Dario’s district, this will give him a positive boost in the court of public opinion. So it’s a win-win, in my book.”

With each fire Evelyn extinguishes, tension uncoils from my shoulders. I can breathe again, finally. Now, I can focus on the bigger picture—crafting my remarks to rally this community, convincing them this center is a game-changer with only four hours until showtime.

Evelyn and I hunker down, syncing every last detail. I”m struck by how perfectly she manages to weave my words into a poetic song.

”You”ve worked miracles, Evelyn. I couldn”t have pulled this off without you.” My candor surprises even me. I”m not usually so quick to rely on others.

She waves a modest hand. ”Please, you laid all the groundwork. I just cleared a few hurdles.” Her bright red lips quirk. ”I’m sure your fiancé would”ve razed the city if I hadn”t intervened.”

We share a laugh at the truth of her statement.

“You know, I watch how he is with you, and it’s so different from the boss side of him. He seems to really care for you.”

I fake a smile, caught off guard by her yet again.

“Yeah, well,” I say, holding up my engagement ring. “We are getting married.”

Evelyn sees this as some golden retriever kind of love, where Dario lights up and will do anything to make me happy. In reality, Dario’s power knows no bounds, and he doesn’t mind showing just how much of it he has.

”Well, it”s almost time,” she declares, standing.

A frisson of nerves rakes through me, but it”s the good kind—the thrill before the big show. There’s also just an inkling of nerves around what she just implied.

Has Dario started to care for me?

Adrenaline fuels my steps as I walk Evelyn to the door, filled with renewed determination.

Tonight, everything changes. I can feel it in my bones.

As the grand opening looms,Evelyn’s offhand fiancé comment ricochets through my brain, I mentally kick myself.

The truth is, Dario and I aren”t even dating. Not really. Our…relationship…defies easy categorization. Born of violence and desperation, ignited through sparks of hatred and derision. A union intended as a cold calculation, to merge our families” interests. And yet...

My gaze drifts to Dario as he broods nearby, scrutinizing the setup crew. Even his most innocuous movements entrance me—the ripple of muscle beneath his tight black tee, the reckless jut of his bearded jaw, those glowering eyes missing nothing.

A pang squeezes my chest. My body has betrayed me, traitorous flesh craving his touch with shameless abandon. I”m a mess of confused lust and ever-shifting allegiances.

Get it together. This is no time for indulging those forbidden fantasies, not with so much riding on tonight”s success.

My pep talk recalls me to the moment. I force my attention back to the grand foyer, filling with guests. Giddy anticipation thrums beneath the hubbub.

Young, bright-eyed community organizers in smart pantsuits network with city hall zoning board members and varsity coaches from our outreach programs. Social media influencers practice staging the perfect selfie backdrop, laughter, and flashbulbs popping.

A bubble of pride swells within me. This is bigger than me, Dario’s political ambitions, or family machinations. It’s about giving these overlooked neighborhoods something to rally around—a long-overdue investment in their future.

As showtime nears, the door bursts open, and Gabby sweeps in.”Oh my God, you two clean up nicely!” she laments, seeing Dario and me standing beside each other. She rushes to embrace me, her curls tickling my cheek. ”I”m so proud of you, babe. This place looks incredible.”

Sinking into her warmth, I savor the familiar comfort of her friendship. My safe harbor in the madness. ”I couldn”t have done it without you.”

Gabby squeezes me tighter. ”Don”t be silly. This was all you, every brilliant, hard-won detail.” She pulls back with a sly grin. ”Though I do have to admit, I”m digging Mobster Barbie”s fashion sense.”

I roll my eyes but can”t stifle my smirk. The bodice hugs my curves, dipping just low enough to tease. Dario had picked it, naturally—the lavender a perfect offset to his grey three-piece suit.

I smooth the skirt over my hips, unable to shake the memory of my bikini pushed aside as he pounded into me against the bookcase. His rough groans, the bruising grip digging into my ass.

A jolt of arousal lances straight to my core, and I suck in a sharp breath, dizzy from the potent recollection.

Get a grip.

Focus.

Taking my cue from Gabby’s introduction. Evelyn calls out, ”Mia? You ready, hon?”

Nerves flutter in my belly as I study my reflection. I grab a steadying gulp of air. ”Yeah, I”m good. Let”s do this.”

I stride onto the stage, the spotlight an unwavering beam casting my shadow across the expectant faces. My heart beats a steady rhythm of purpose. This community center is something my dad holds near and dear to him.

”Imagine,” I begin, voice clear, ”a place where dreams aren”t just whispers in the night but possibilities waiting at your fingertips.” My words fade away for a second. Dario comes behind me as a silent pillar of strength.

His hand finds the small of my back, a gesture of support. We share a glance, and for a moment, the world narrows to his encouraging smile. Our lips meet briefly, a promise in front of the world before he steps back, allowing me my moment.

“This center, with its sports programs igniting the spark of teamwork, STEM functions unraveling the mysteries of the universe, and guidance on paths less traveled—be it college or vocational training—embodies our future. This center isn”t just a building; it”s the heart of our community. A place where potential is nurtured, and dreams are given wings.”

The end of my speech is greeted by rousing applause. My cheeks ache from the brilliant smile I”ve had plastered on all night, but I can”t shake the lingering glow of pride and accomplishment.

This is happening. All those nights hunched over blueprints and budgets, the endless back-and-forth with my dad and the city—it”s finally paid off.

I make my way through the crowd, exchanging air kisses and handshakes with donors and local influencers. Dario is off handling some calls, so I continue working the room solo.

”Mia? Mia Gordon?”

The familiar voice stops me in my tracks. I spin around to see Jake Thomas grinning at me, arms wide.

”Oh my god!” I launch myself into his embrace, my ponytail whipping behind me. ”Jake, I can”t believe it”s you!”

We rock back and forth, his deep chuckle rumbling against my cheek. His arms are still solid, still comforting after all these years. We pull apart, both of us beaming.

”Damn, girl,” he teases, giving me an exaggerated once-over. ”Looking like a whole snack as usual.”

I give his chest a playful shove. ”You”re one to talk, Mr. Modelizer. Have you been working out even more?”

Jake strikes an over-the-top bodybuilder pose, bulging biceps straining against the sleeves of his crisp dress shirt. We both crack up at his antics.

”What can I say?” he says with a wink. ”Gotta keep up with all the thirsty coeds throwing themselves at me.”

His arm slides around my shoulders, giving me a gentle squeeze as we reminisce about our college days.

Jake”s arm is warm and familiar around my shoulders as we catch up, laughing over shared memories from our university days. His natural charisma puts me at ease.

“Remember that frat party where you dared me to streak across the quad?” I shake my head, cheeks flushing at the reckless memory. ”I thought I was going to get expelled for sure.”

”Hey, you”re the one who went full Monty!” Jake protests with a grin. ”I only said run through in your undies.”

To demonstrate, he casually drapes an arm across my back, hand hovering innocently at my hip as he reenacts my naked sprint. We dissolve into another laughing fit at the ridiculous visual.

His touch is entirely platonic, but from the corner of my eye, I catch Dario”s piercing gaze locked on us from across the room. His intense stare isn”t one of curiosity but of molten fury barely restrained beneath that impassive mask.

A rush of unease ripples through me as our eyes meet. Even from this distance, I can see the muscle twitching in his square jaw. From his heavily inked forearms exposed by the pushed-up sleeves of his steel-gray suit, he’s practically radiating anger.

In three long strides, Dario closes the gap between us, his presence suddenly looming like a menacing storm cloud. I open my mouth to greet him, but the words freeze in my throat as he seizes Jake”s wrist in a vice-like grip and wrenches it away from me.

The violence of the action is shocking—Jake lets out a stunned gasp as Dario”s powerful fingers wrench and twist. There”s an ominous crack, like a snapping branch, and Jake crumples with a strangled cry of pain.

”Jake!” I lunge forward, but Dario is already hauling him up by the neck of his ruined dress shirt, shoving him back against the bar hard enough to rattle the glassware.

My heart pounds rapidly as I stare at Dario in disbelief. His face is contorted with an almost feral rage, and his upper lip is curled back from his clenched teeth like a snarling beast.

This isn”t the ruthless businessman or even the merciless crime boss I know lurks beneath Dario”s calculated exterior. This is something darker, untamed, and terrifying.

”Dario,” I plead, grabbing his arm. ”What the fuck is wrong with you?”