Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ipace across the marble foyer, checking my watch for the third time in five minutes. Ten-fifteen. We should have left by now.
The security detail is already in place outside—four men besides Daniel, strategically positioned around the Bentley. Everyone briefed, alert, and ready.
Everyone except Zoe and Lu, who are taking their sweet fucking time.
I tug at the cuffs of my black shirt, adjusting them beneath my suit jacket. Strategic choices tonight—dark colors to blend into shadows, nothing flashy to draw unwanted attention. The weight of my Beretta rests against my ribs, a constant reminder of the world we live in.
The sound of heels clicking against marble echoes down the hallway. Finally. I turn to deliver a pointed comment about punctuality.
Then I see her.
Zoe stands at the top of the stairs in a dress that stops my breath in my chest. Blood red fabric clings to every curve of her body, the color vibrant against her pale skin.
The neckline dips dangerously low, revealing the gentle swell of her breasts.
A slit runs up one side, offering glimpses of smooth thigh with each step she takes.
Heat rushes through my veins as my imagination runs wild with thoughts of how that silk would feel under my hands, how easily it would slide up those legs, how the color would look spread across my black sheets.
Fuck.
Our eyes lock as she descends the stairs with deliberate slowness, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She knows exactly what she's doing.
"You can't be serious," I say, my voice rougher than intended.
She reaches the bottom step, one eyebrow arched in challenge. "Excuse me?"
"That dress. You can't wear that to Omertà."
"Really? Why not?" Her tone is light, innocent, but her eyes dance with defiance.
"Because it's practically begging for attention." I step closer, dropping my voice. "The wrong kind of attention."
Zoe tilts her chin up, green eyes flashing. "I can wear whatever the hell I want, Damiano. That was our agreement, wasn't it? I play the part of your loving wife, and you don't dictate my choices."
The scent of her perfume—something floral with a hint of spice—fills my senses, making it harder to focus on the argument.
"This isn't about dictating your choices," I growl. "It's about keeping you safe in a place where men have killed for less than a look."
"Then I guess you'll just have to protect me, won't you?" She steps around me, heading for the door. "That's what husbands do, after all."
I'm about to follow Zoe when Lucrezia appears at the top of the stairs, dressed in a silver mini dress. Her hair falls in perfect waves around her shoulders, her makeup flawlessly applied. She looks beautiful, but all I can think is that I'll need to double the security tonight.
"Are we still arguing?" Lu asks as she reaches the bottom step, looking between me and Zoe. "Because we're already late, and I've been waiting forever to go to Omertà."
Zoe throws me a triumphant look. "Your brother doesn't approve of my dress."
Lu rolls her eyes. "Ignore him. That's what I do." She links her arm through Zoe's. "You look stunning."
"That's precisely my concern," I mutter.
"We're going to be late," Lu says, glancing at me pointedly. "Daniel's been waiting outside for fifteen minutes. Are we going or not?"
I run a hand through my hair, knowing I've lost this battle. The dress is inappropriate as hell, but I'll be there to handle any problems.
"Fine," I say, my jaw tight. "But you stay close to me all night, both of you. No wandering off."
Lu beams. "Does that mean you'll be dancing with us?"
The image of Zoe moving against me on the dance floor sends a rush of heat through my body. Her in that red dress, my hands on her waist...
"We'll see."
I hold the door open, my eyes catching Zoe's as she passes. The subtle scent of her perfume lingers in the air between us.
Daniel holds the car door open as I follow Zoe and Lucrezia into the backseat of the Bentley.
The ride to Omertà passes in tense silence, broken only by Lucrezia's excited chatter about the club.
My eyes keep drifting to the expanse of Zoe's thigh revealed by the slit in her dress whenever she shifts in her seat.
Each time, I force my gaze away, only to find myself looking again moments later.
When we arrive, the line outside Omertà stretches around the block. Daniel leads us past the waiting crowd to the VIP entrance where Marsello, one of our men who manages the door, nods in greeting.
"Don Feretti," Marsello says, stepping aside.
Inside, the club pulses with pounding bass and flashing lights. Bodies pack the dance floor, writhing to the music while red and blue lights sweep across the crowd. I scan the room, cataloging faces, identifying potential threats.
"I've arranged a private table," I say, leaning close to Zoe's ear to be heard over the music. "Upstairs, overlooking the dance floor. Better security."
Zoe's eyes flash with defiance. "No."
"No?" The word comes out sharp. No one tells me no in my own fucking club.
"We didn't come to sit in isolation," she says. "Lucrezia wants the full experience."
My sister nods eagerly beside her.
"If you want to sit with us, fine. If not, feel free to leave," Zoe challenges, her lips curving into a smile that's pure provocation.
Heat surges through me—part anger, part something else I refuse to acknowledge. She knows exactly what buttons she's pushing.
"You're not moving around this club without me," I growl.
Zoe shrugs, victory in her eyes. "Then I guess you're coming with us."
I signal to Daniel, who nods understanding. He'll position our men strategically while I keep Zoe and Lu in my direct line of sight.
We secure a table near the dance floor—not where I wanted, but with a decent view of the exits.
Within minutes of sitting down, I notice the first set of eyes on Zoe.
A man at the bar, then another by the DJ booth, then a group of businessmen in the corner.
The red dress draws attention like blood in water attracts sharks.
My fingers tighten around my whiskey glass as Zoe leans forward to say something to Lucrezia, purposely giving me a view down the front of her dress. When she catches me looking, she smirks.
I sip my whiskey, keeping my eyes on Zoe and Lucrezia. The music shifts to something with a heavier beat, and Lu grabs Zoe's hand.
"Come on! This is my favorite song," she shouts over the music.
Before I can protest, they're heading for the dance floor. I stand immediately, signaling to Daniel across the room. He nods, moving to a position with better sightlines.
"Stay close," I growl, but they're already weaving through the crowd.
I watch as they find a spot in the center of the floor.
Lucrezia throws her hands up, moving effortlessly to the beat.
But it's Zoe who captures every eye in the vicinity.
The red dress catches the light as she moves, her body swaying in perfect rhythm.
Her blonde hair falls around her shoulders as she turns, laughing at something Lu says.
Men around them take notice immediately. Hungry eyes track her movements. I drain my whiskey, knuckles white around the glass.
A tall man in an expensive suit approaches from behind. He says something to Zoe, and she turns, shaking her head with a polite smile. But he doesn't back off. Instead, he moves closer, placing his hand on the small of her back, fingers splaying possessively against the red silk.
The glass shatters in my grip.
I don't feel the sting of whiskey in the cuts as I push through the crowd. My vision narrows to a tunnel focused on that hand touching what's mine.
In three seconds, I'm there. My hand closes around his throat, lifting him slightly off his feet. His eyes bulge with shock as I slam him against the nearest pillar.
"Touch my wife again, and I'll tear you to pieces," I snarl, my voice deadly quiet despite the pounding music.
He claws at my hand, face turning red. "I didn't know—"
"Now you do."
I drag him through the crowd, people parting like water before us. Daniel appears at the door, taking the gasping man from my grip and escorting him outside. I know Daniel will make sure our message is perfectly clear.
When I turn back, my eyes lock with Zoe's across the dance floor. She stands perfectly still amid the moving bodies, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her green eyes are wide, a mixture of shock and something else—something that sends heat surging through my veins.
I stalk back to her, aware of every eye in the club watching us. When I reach her, the air between us crackles with tension. Anger at her recklessness mixes with a possessive fire I can't control. Beneath it all runs an undercurrent of attraction neither of us wants to acknowledge.
Lucrezia stands beside Zoe, her eyes wide as she watches us. I see recognition in my sister's expression—she senses the shift happening, the dangerous energy pulsing between her brother and his new wife.
Zoe's lips curl into a smirk as she steps closer, tilting her head to look up at me.
"Overreacting much?" she whispers, the scent of her perfume hitting me like a physical blow. "He was just asking me to dance."
"He had his fucking hands on you."
"And?" She arches one perfect eyebrow, challenge written across her features. She leans in, lips nearly brushing my ear. "We're not really a couple, Damiano. I can do whatever I want with my sexual life."
The words hit like ice water, then ignite into fury. The thought of another man's hands on her body, another man's mouth on hers—
I laugh, low and dangerous, watching her eyes widen slightly at the sound. "Don't push me, lupacchiotta. Not tonight." I lean closer, my voice dropping to a growl only she can hear. "Not when you're wearing that fucking dress."