Prince of Queens (Empire of Hearts #3)

Chapter 1

Dominic

I settle onto a barstool, loosening my tie as I signal the bartender. "Whiskey, neat," I order, my voice nearly drowned out by the sound of the party. Luca's birthday bash is in full swing, the restaurant packed with revelers.

As I wait for my drink, my mind drifts to that night in Monaco. The opulent casino, the high-stakes game, the sudden chaos when shots rang out. I can still feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I tackled Luca to the ground, bullets whizzing overhead. We'd crawled behind an overturned blackjack table, my gun in hand, covering Luca as he called for backup.

"I owe you my life, Dom," Luca had said afterward, his voice gruff with emotion.

I'd shrugged it off then, but the truth is, that night cemented our bond. So when word about his surprise birthday party reached me, despite the potential complications, I couldn't say no.

The bartender slides my drink over just as the guy next to me picks up his beer and walks away. I turn, planning to rest my elbow on the newly vacant spot, when suddenly, my breath catches in my throat.

She's right there, barely an arm's length away, and she's stunning. Dark hair cascades over her shoulders, framing a face that could launch a thousand ships. Her crimson dress hugs every curve, and when she looks up, meeting my gaze, I'm struck by the fire in her eyes.

"See something you like?" she asks, a smirk playing on her lips.

I recover quickly, lifting my glass in a mock toast. "Just admiring the view. It's not often you see a work of art brought to life."

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the hint of a smile. "Smooth. Do lines like that usually work for you?"

"I don't know," I reply, leaning in slightly. "Is it working now?"

She laughs, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Jury's still out. But I'll give you points for confidence."

"I'll take it," I grin, extending my hand. "I'm—"

"No names," she interrupts, surprising me. "Let's keep it mysterious. More fun that way, don't you think?"

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "A woman of mystery. I like it. So, what should I call you then? Red?"

She glances down at her dress, then back at me, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Original."

I raise my glass to her with a grin. "So, what brings you here?"

"Family obligation," she says with a wry smile. "You?"

I chuckle, leaning in conspiratorially. "Let's just say I have a vested interest in the birthday boy's happiness. Old friends and all that."

"Ah, a man of mystery yourself," she teases. "Should I be intrigued or terrified?"

"Why choose?" I counter, feeling a thrill at our verbal sparring. "A little of both keeps life interesting, don't you think?"

She laughs, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "I like the way you think. But tell me, what do you do when you're not crashing birthday parties and flirting with strangers at bars?"

"Who says I'm flirting?" I ask innocently.

She leans in, close enough that I can smell her perfume – something floral and intoxicating. "Your eyes do," she whispers, her breath warm against my ear. "They haven't left me since you turned around."

My heart races, and I have to remind myself to breathe. "Guilty as charged," I admit, my voice husky. "But you, Red, are giving as good as you get."

Her eyes flash with heat as she pulls back slightly, her gaze dropping to my lips before meeting my eyes again. "Maybe I am," she says, her voice a challenge. "What are you going to do about it?"

The tension between us is palpable, electric. I reach out, my fingers brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "That depends," I murmur. "How much trouble are you looking to get into tonight?"

She catches my hand as I withdraw it, her thumb tracing slow circles on my palm. "Trouble? With you? I have a feeling that's an understatement."

I chuckle, the sound low in my throat. "Oh, Red. You have no idea."

We're interrupted by the bartender asking if we want another round. As she turns to respond, I take a moment to collect myself, surprised by the intensity of our connection. When she faces me again, her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright.

"So," she says, a hint of breathlessness in her voice. "Where were we?"

"I believe," I say, taking a sip of my fresh drink, "we were discussing the merits of a little danger."

She smiles, slow and seductive. "Right. And I think I was about to tell you that I'm not afraid of a little danger. In fact," she adds, leaning in close again, "I might even crave it."

Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the noise of the party fades away. It's just us, caught in this electric moment of possibility. I'm about to suggest we find somewhere more private when I see Luca approaching us, a look of surprise on his face.

"Dominic?" he says, his tone a mix of shock and something else I can't quite place. "What are you doing here?"

I turn, grinning at my old friend. "Luca Del Toro," I say, embracing him in a quick hug. "Happy birthday, old friend."

As we pull apart, I notice the woman watching us with growing confusion. My stomach drops as realization begins to dawn.

"Gia," Luca says, "let me introduce you to Dominic Esposito. We go way back. Dom, this is Sofia's sister, Gia."

I watch as the color drains from Gia's face, her earlier warmth replaced by a sudden chill. The name Romano echoes in my head, and I know our fleeting connection is about to shatter.

"Esposito?" Gia says, her voice tight. "As in, the Esposito family? The one who sent that text about the fire?"

I nod slowly, my smile faltering. "Yes. About that…"

Gia takes a step back, her eyes flashing with anger. "I can't believe this," she mutters. "I can't believe I was actually – " She cuts herself off, shaking her head. Without another word, she turns on her heel and walks away, her hips swaying with each step.

I'm left standing there, the taste of regret bitter on my tongue. Luca takes pity on me and slaps his arm around my shoulder."Come on, let's catch up."

We move to a quieter corner of the bar, but even as I listen to Luca recount his latest adventures, my eyes keep scanning the crowd. I can't help but hope for a glimpse of red, a flash of those dark eyes that had me captivated just moments ago.

"You seem distracted," Luca observes, interrupting my thoughts.

I shake my head, refocusing on my friend. "Sorry, it's been a long week. You were saying?"

As Luca launches back into his story, I make a conscious effort to engage. We reminisce about old times, careful to dance around the more delicate aspects of our families' businesses. Yet, throughout our conversation, I can't shake the lingering disappointment of Gia's abrupt departure.

After about an hour, Luca glances at his watch. "I should probably make the rounds," he says apologetically. "You know how it is."

I nod, understanding all too well the obligations that come with our positions. "Of course. We should grab dinner soon, catch up properly."

"Absolutely," Luca agrees. "Next week? I'll have my guy set it up."

We embrace, clapping each other on the back. As we pull apart, I can't help but ask, "Luca, your sister-in-law, Gia... is she always so..."

"Fiery?" Luca finishes with a knowing smirk. "You have no idea. But Dom, be careful. You know how complicated things are between our families."

I force a laugh, trying to play it off. "Just curious. Don't worry about it."

With one last goodbye, I make my way out of the restaurant. The cool night air hits me as I step onto the street, a welcome respite from the stuffy interior. My car, a sleek black Aston Martin, purrs to life as I slide behind the wheel.

As I navigate through the city streets, my mind keeps drifting back to Gia. The way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, the heat in her gaze when we flirted. I've known countless beautiful women, but none have affected me quite like this.

Crossing the East River, the city skyline reflected in the water, I can't shake the feeling that something significant happened tonight. It wasn't just attraction – though God knows that was there in spades. It was a connection, instant and electric, like recognizing a part of myself in another person.

I pull into the private garage of my building, a luxurious but discreet condo complex in Long Island City. As I ride the elevator, I reflect on the careful balance my family maintains. We have wealth beyond measure, but in New York, we play it smart. This place, worth a few million, is modest compared to what we could afford. It's all part of the game – hiding in plain sight, blending in with the upper crust without drawing too much attention.

Stepping into my home, I loosen my tie and pour myself a nightcap. As I sip my whiskey, gazing out at the city, I resolve to let the idea of Gia go. I need to focus on the business. On what’s really important. I don’t need a romantic entanglement right now. Especially such a complicated one. And maybe if I tell myself that enough times, I’ll start to believe it.