Chapter 30
Rav
The thudding bass of La Fiamma dance club vibrated through the soles of my boots as I slouched on the red velvet sofa in our alcove, watching the crowd.
The silk button-up Mario had forced on me clung uncomfortably to my skin.
Bright electric blue swirls tangled with deep purple and gold across the fabric—a far cry from my standard tactical black.
I felt exposed in it, like I’d lost my camouflage.
The day had been frustratingly uneventful. Percival and I had gone to Pompeii to reset the cameras, only to discover someone had removed the robot dog we’d found. Somehow, they’d gotten in there exactly when our cameras were down. That was worse news.
I should have sneaked into the park to fix the damn cameras the second Drew noticed the sound was out. Then we would have seen them come for the robot.
Percival and I had done another sweep of the drainage system and the amphitheater, finding nothing new or suspicious.
Four hours of recon and the place’s normality had unnerved me more than finding any evidence would have.
Meanwhile, Brooke and Malcolm had successfully retrieved the incursion suits from Norris, though she’d mentioned he was asking too many questions.
We’d even told Mario about Martinelli to see if he had any additional intel for us, but nothing came of it.
So instead, we were all at the club for our customary evening out the night before a big job.
“Drinks!” Mario’s voice boomed as he returned to our table, effortlessly balancing a tray loaded with glasses. He distributed them with a flourish and was off again, kissing the cheeks of two women at a neighboring table before heading for the dance floor.
He was clearly in his element. He’d gotten us past the bouncers despite the long line, had waved to the DJ, and had greeted half the club by name. I was on a team that was practiced at blending in. But Mario? He couldn’t blend in to save his life.
Emmett, sitting next to me, took a bright blue shot glass and downed it before grabbing a beer bottle. Zac bobbed his head to the beat, already on his second cocktail.
Every team had its pre-mission rituals. This was ours: finding a way to exhale before diving into the danger tomorrow.
When we faced Fenix and their plans, our nerves needed to be steady, not frayed.
We needed to remember why we did what we did—to see the goodness in the world we were protecting, and to remember we were a family.
I sipped what turned out to be whiskey, letting the burn distract me from the itch of the unfamiliar fabric against my skin.
My eyes drifted to the dance floor, where Scarlett and Malcolm moved together under the pulsing strobe lights.
There was an ease between them that spoke of complete trust—the same trust I’d seen develop between Drew and Jayce, who were huddled in another alcove, heads bent close in conversation.
Every damn one of my team had paired off during operations.
Except me.
The thought pulled my attention to the long bar where Brooke sat alone, one hand wrapped around a wineglass, the other tapping restlessly against the counter.
She’d worn a black high-necked top despite the heat of the club.
It covered her scars but couldn’t disguise her discomfort in the crowded space.
Her shoulders were tight, her posture too straight.
“Checking for tangos?” Emmett asked, following my gaze.
I grunted noncommittally, dragging my eyes away from Brooke.
Too late. Emmett had caught me. “Or just one particular tango?”
Before I could respond, I spotted Mario approaching the bar. He slid onto the stool next to Brooke with the confidence of a man who’d never been rejected. The set of Brooke’s shoulders changed as he leaned close to speak in her ear while he signaled the bartender.
My fingers tightened around my glass.
Mario gestured toward the dance floor, his smile wide and inviting. Brooke shook her head, but he pressed on, leaning closer.
“Mario moves fast,” Emmett yelled in my ear so that I could hear him over the music. “Though I’m sure that’s just friendly hospitality.”
I shot him a look that would have silenced a smarter man, but Emmett raised his infuriating Reynolds eyebrow.
My attention snapped back to the bar as Mario took Brooke’s hand, leading her toward the dance floor. She followed with visible reluctance, but something about him had convinced her. The crowd parted for them, like he was Moses parting the fucking Red Sea.
He spun her once and then pulled her close. My jaw locked tight enough to crack a molar.
“She’s a beautiful woman,” Emmett said, his voice cutting through the bass and my focus. “I’m surprised you two never hooked up.”
“I was her protection detail.” The lie came out without thinking. “That’s it.”
“And now you’re acting like a sniper on overwatch,” Emmett observed, pointing at them with the neck of his bottle.
My head snapped toward him. “What are you getting at?”
He held up a hand in mock surrender. “Nothing, nothing. I’m simply making conversation.” His eyes slid back to the dance floor. “Though you might want to be more subtle about the staring. I think even Mario noticed.”
Of course. The whole team had probably picked up on it. It was written all over my face, apparently.
I glanced back at the dance floor. Mario had guided Brooke deeper into the crowd. She was smiling up at him now, laughing at something he’d said.
Everyone on my team had found someone during an op. Zac and Ashley in Boston, Scarlett and Malcolm in Venice, Declan and Leigh in Rome, Drew and Jayce in Washington, Emmett and Jenn in Monaco, and finally Will and Brie in Mnemis.
“Look,” Emmett leaned in close enough that he didn’t have to yell so loud. “Life’s short. It’s not worth hiding whatever you two think you’re hiding.”
The realization washed over me. They knew. All of them. They’d probably discussed it when Brooke and I weren’t around. The team had been watching and waiting for the last holdout to fall.
I took a long drink, using the burn to center myself. “We need to keep things professional until the mission ends.”
“Professional,” Emmett echoed, not bothering to hide his amusement. “That’s why you’re gripping that glass like it personally offended you, while she’s out there dancing with our host?”
On the floor, Mario spun Brooke. Her laugh was genuine this time.
Something in my chest constricted.
What the hell were we waiting for? We’d lost years to silence and misunderstanding. Tomorrow, we’d be walking into potential chemical warfare. So why were we denying ourselves? To maintain some fiction of professionalism when everyone already knew?
Fuck me.
No more wasted time.
No more missed opportunities.
Not when those opportunities could end tomorrow.
I set my glass down harder than I should have. “Excuse me.”
“Going somewhere?” Emmett asked, though his smirk said he already knew the answer.
“To get what I want,” I replied, rising from our sofa.
I navigated my way between alcoves and tables, down two small sets of stairs, to the dance floor, where the crowd swallowed me.
Bodies pressed in from all sides, the air thick with perfume, cologne, and sweat.
I tracked Brooke through the shifting mass, moving with the focused intent I usually reserved for operations.
I was halfway there when a hand caught my arm. I turned, ready to brush it off, only to find Scarlett.
“Hey,” she said, leaning close enough to be heard over the music. Her face was flushed from dancing. “I need a favor.”
“Not now,” I replied, attempting to continue forward.
She stepped directly into my path. “I only need a second. Malcolm and I were thinking of having the room to ourselves tonight.” She glanced back to where Malcolm waited nearby.
“Would you mind sleeping on the couch? Or…” She paused, her eyes deliberately tracking to where Brooke danced with Mario. “Or finding somewhere else to crash?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Did you coordinate this with Emmett?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied, not even attempting to look innocent. “But you could always ask Brooke if she has space. I’m sure her roommate wouldn’t mind.”
“You’re her roommate,” I pointed out.
“Right.” She grinned. “And I wouldn’t mind.”
I shook my head, but couldn’t fight the corner of my mouth lifting. “Subtle.”
“Never claimed to be.” She squeezed my arm once before releasing me. “Go get her, Rav.”
With the final obstacle removed, I continued through the mass of bodies. Mario had dipped Brooke dramatically, bringing her up with ease. Her laughter transformed her face, and somehow it made her even more beautiful.
For a split second, doubt crept in. She was enjoying herself. Maybe I should let her continue with Mario. Maybe a man like that could make her happy. But then her eyes found mine across the dance floor, and the laughter faded into something more intense—a silent invitation.
That was all I needed.
I barged through the remaining dancers until I reached them. “Mind if I cut in?”
Mario turned, his face lighting up. “Ah! Rav! How could I refuse?” He stepped back with an exaggerated bow and yelled at the top of his lungs. “Though you are stealing the loveliest dance partner in all of Napoli!”
The flush on Brooke’s cheeks deepened. “Mario’s being generous. I’m a terrible dancer.”
“Then we’ll be terrible together,” I said, taking her hand. “I don’t dance.”
Mario laughed, slapping my shoulder. “Everyone dances at La Fiamma! Even serious men like you, my friend. Now if you’ll excuse me…” He winked at Brooke. “There’s a beautiful redhead at the bar who has been watching me all night.”
With another flourish, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Brooke and me standing awkwardly among the dancers.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said, looking up at me. “I know you hate dancing.”
“I don’t hate it,” I replied, resting my hand lightly on her waist. “I’m not trained for it.”
“Then why—”
“Because I wanted to be near you,” I cut in, done with pretense.
Her eyes widened slightly. I pulled her closer, not giving a damn who saw us, and began moving to the music. It was nothing fancy—just enough to keep us from standing still in the middle of the floor.
“What about our agreement?” she asked, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders.
“Screw the agreement,” I said, pulling her close to talk directly into her ear. “Everyone already knows.”
Her body tightened. “What?”
“Emmett, Scarlett, probably the whole team,” I told her. “Percival grilled me about it when we were in the tunnels.”
I felt her breath catch, but her arms slid around my neck.
“I don’t want to keep pretending,” I continued, my lips brushing her ear now. “I don’t want to hide how I feel about you. Not anymore.”
The music shifted to something slower, more insistent. Around us, couples pressed closer together.
“I want you,” I said simply. “I’ve always wanted you. And I’m done hiding it.”
She sucked in a quick breath. “Rav—”
“Let’s get out of here.” I pulled away from her, only far enough so I could see her reaction. “Right now. Let’s go back to the villa while everyone’s still here.”
“The mission—”
“It will still be there tomorrow.” I slid one of my hands down the curve of her back to her ass. The move was no different from half the couples surrounding us. “Tonight is ours.”
She searched my face, and I let her see everything—the desire, the fear, the certainty that I wanted this. Wanted her.
“You’re serious,” she whispered.
“Dead serious.”
The music continued to drone around us, but faded into the background. I watched the decision form in her eyes before she spoke.
“Okay,” she finally said, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Let’s go.”
The tightness I’d been carrying in my chest since I’d seen her in Mnemis finally released. I took her hand and led her off the dance floor, not bothering with goodbyes. At the edge of the club, I caught Emmett’s eye. He raised his bottle in silent acknowledgment.