17. Alexander
Chapter 17
Alexander
I take a sip of the scotch in my hand, its warmth settling in as I glance down at my watch. I’m waiting in the foyer because I told Chloe to meet me down here no later than two—she still has fifteen minutes.
The woman I first met didn’t seem like the type to take hours getting ready, but the truth is, I barely know her.
Despite her assurances that she’ll behave, I’m still on the fence about bringing her along with me. I met with my men earlier just in case she has something planned. We’re all still on edge after her escape attempt, and I’m not about to let my guard down.
Trust is earned in my world, not given freely. Not even with her, and certainly not after everything that’s happened since her arrival.
When I catch movement out of my peripheral vision, I glance towards the staircase and have to do a double take. The world around me seems to slow down, and for a moment, I forget to breathe as the vision of effortless grace and beauty descends the stairs. Everything about her seems to command my attention, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from her .
She looks like a damn supermodel.
My brother, Dante, once dragged me to a fashion show in Milan—he was dating one of the models walking the runway at the time—but this woman before me now? Chloe would run circles around all of them—she’s absolutely stunning.
There’s something about the quiet elegance in every movement, the subtle sway of her hips and the confidence she exudes with each step. Beauty isn’t just in how someone looks, but in the way they carry themselves, and fuck me, if the woman before me doesn’t have all of that in spades. It’s magnetic, the kind of allure that pulls at something deep inside me, something I didn’t expect to feel.
“I’m not late, am I?” she asks when she sees me standing at the base of the stairs.
“No,” I reply, unable to give her more.
“Is what I’m wearing okay? I can quickly change if it’s not.”
“You look lovely.”
Lovely doesn’t even begin to capture how she looks. A fucking goddess would be a more adequate description. But even as I take in the sight of her, I’m still grappling with the whirlwind of emotions she’s stirred up inside me. I can’t quite process what I’m feeling—too overwhelmed by how she affects me.
“You look nice too,” she says, and damn, she smells so good.
For a moment, I have a sudden urge to throw her over my shoulder and take her back upstairs to my bedroom, strip her naked, devour every inch of her luscious body, and then fuck her into next week. But I can’t do that. I doubt she’d let me anyway.
“You ready?” I ask as my gaze moves down to her plump, glossy lips. Fuck , now I want to kiss her .
Get your shit together, Mancini.
“I am.”
This time, I don’t even have to offer my arm. She reaches out and wraps her delicate fingers around my elbow. Even through the fabric of my shirt, her touch feels like fire, searing into my skin with a heat I wasn’t prepared for.
I force myself to focus, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, but it’s almost impossible to think of anything but this woman. Every fibre of her being—her touch, her scent, the way she moves—pulls my attention in, a constant distraction … a temptation I can’t ignore.
The real kicker here is that I’m not even going to get the pleasure of unwrapping her when we get home, and that thought sits like a heavy stone in the pit of my stomach. It’s a frustration I can’t shake, a hunger that only grows whenever I’m near her.
The shit starts as soon as we exit the house when my men get a whiff of her. Their heads turn so fast that I’m surprised they don’t break their fucking necks. The way their leery eyes track down her body makes me see red.
The first thought that hits me is mine , and that in itself is a complete mindfuck.
Chloe is utterly oblivious to the attention she is garnering, and we haven’t left the property yet. I can only imagine the heads she’ll turn when we arrive at the party.
“Put your eyes back in your head,” I bellow, and my outburst has her flinching in surprise beside me.
I have a feeling it’s going to be a long fucking night.
“You okay?” Antonio asks, placing his hand on my shoulder as I stand in line at the bar. “You look like you’re ready to gut someone.”
“I am.”
“Is Chloe busting your balls again?”
“No, my balls are perfectly fine,” I bite, though it’s a complete lie. My balls are not doing well at all. I’m half convinced they’ve shrivelled up and died from lack of use. “If I were a violent man, though, half of your guests would be bleeding out on the floor by now.”
He barks out a laugh. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a beautiful brunette, would it?”
I tilt my face towards the ceiling and groan. “Not you too.”
“I’m just messing with you, boss. I’m a happily married man. Don’t worry about the others, she’s here with you , be proud.”
My eyes snap to him. “You and I both know the situation. She’s not here with me because she wants to be … she’s here under duress.”
He glances over at the table where we are seated. “She looks like she’s having a pretty good time to me.”
My attention is pulled in that direction, and despite frowning, I feel the corners of my mouth turn up slightly as I observe her engrossed in a conversation with Nico’s wife.
I’ve seen a different side to her tonight. She seems to have left her usual guarded self at home. The walls she kept so carefully constructed around herself started to crumble, piece by piece, as the night wore on.
When we first arrived, she seemed hesitant—a flicker of uncertainty in her beautiful whisky-coloured eyes as she surveyed the room. But then, something happened.
I’m not sure if it was the atmosphere, the music, or the guests’ easy laughter that caused her to begin to loosen up. The glass of wine she gulped down as soon as we were seated at our table probably helped too.
I sat back and watched as she started smiling and conversing with the other females at our table. It wasn’t forced or polite; it was real, just like now.
Antonio’s right; she is enjoying herself, and that pleases me to no end. At least one of us is having a good time.
My eyes flicker further left, and my lips instantly thin again. “Who’s that fucker in the blue shirt sitting at the table next to mine.”
“That’s my cousin Vinny.”
“If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stop leering at my date.”
Antonio’s eyebrows jump so high they almost reach his hairline. “Your date?” he asks shocked.
“Don’t start with me,” I grumble. “You know what I mean. We came together, didn’t we?”
He holds up his hands defensively, but that stupid-arse grin he’s sporting says it all. It pisses me the hell off.
“Don’t worry about him,” he says, his hand landing on my shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. “He’s harmless.”
“Harmless? He’ll be fucking eyeless by the end of the night if he’s not careful.”
When he throws back his head and cracks up, I abruptly turn and leave the line, heading towards the exit. I need some fresh air.
“Oh, there you are,” Chloe says, exiting the function room to find me sitting on the low brick wall that lines the entry. “I was looking for you everywhere.”
“I just needed some air,” I reply, standing and rebuttoning my suit jacket. “Is something wrong? ”
“No, I was wondering if you wanted to dance with me?”
I arch an eyebrow. “You want to dance … with me?”
“I just asked that, didn’t I?”
Here we go with those damn questions again.
“I don’t dance,” I say, a little more abrupt than intended.
“Right. My bad.” And I don’t miss the hurt that flashes in her eyes as she turns to reenter the party.
“ Bella ,” I say, reaching out to grab hold of her wrist. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.” It’s not her fault I’ve been acting like a jealous arsehole from the moment we left the house.
“All good,” she replies, shaking her hand from my hold. “I’m sure I can find someone inside to dance with me. A guy on the table next to ours just winked at me when I made eye contact with him.”
Fucking Vinny! The guy must have a death wish.
“Let me guess, the fucker in the blue shirt?”
She glances at me over her shoulder, frowning. “How did you know that?”
“Because he’s been staring at you all night.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “He has?”
“Yes, and if he lays one filthy finger on you, he’ll die.”
“You’d kill someone if they touched me?”
“People have died for less in my world, Chloe.” Not by my hand, but she doesn’t need to know that.
“That’s ludicrous.”
“To the layperson, maybe.”
She turns her head forward and takes another step away from me, but I’m quick to reach for her again. This time, I slide my arm around her slender waist and pull her back against my front, pressing her body flush to mine.
“Everyone’s been watching you tonight, tesoruccio . Men and women alike.” I lift my free hand, brushing her long hair aside. “Including me,” I murmur as my lips graze against her warm skin .
When she gasps and a soft whimper passes through her lips, I suck her earlobe into my mouth, lightly nibbling on the fleshy part.
I’m so fucking hard for this woman. I’ve never ached for someone as much as I do her.
I’m a goner.