THREE
Grace
The Velvet Rope nightclub pulsed with the beat of some bass-heavy track that made my heart jackhammer in my chest. The air was thick with a cocktail of perfumes and sweat, the type of place where secrets clung to the walls like the condensation on the glasses cradled in the hands of the beautiful people walking around.
I stepped through the door, my stilettos clicking a sharp rhythm over the floor, commanding as much attention as I dared. The game was on, and tonight, Dillon was the prize.
He didn’t make me wait or search; Dillon was already there. Standing six feet, two inches, his dark brown hair brushed back, and with a face that was devastatingly handsome but not pretty. “Oh, my…”
My libido definitely stood up to pay attention. His eyes found mine from across the room. A silent beckon pulled me forward. No words, just a look that said everything and holy fuck, I was ready for it all. Thank you Internet Gods of matchmaking because this man was fine as hell. Our video calls did not do him justice at all. He was like a lion. Graceful. Dangerous.
“Grace,” he greeted when I got close enough, his voice a low rumble, the sound you’d want to wake up to—if waking up was on your agenda. “I almost didn’t think you’d show.” His smirk told me he knew better, knew I couldn’t stay away.
“To be completely truthful, that was a thought that crossed my mind. I considered standing you up. Just to keep things interesting.” I retorted, lifting my chin defiantly to meet his stare head on.
He licked his lips, a mischievous glint in his deep-set green eyes. “Well, then I’d have to make you pay for that,” he said, his voice playful but hinting at something more dangerous. My heart raced as I imagined the possibilities of what he could do to make me pay. He closed the distance between us, stepping forward with an almost imperceptible grace that only I seemed to notice. The air crackled with anticipation, and I couldn’t help but take a deep breath. My gaze locked on his intense stare. In that moment, it was just the two of us, everyone else fading into the background as we stood in our own little world.
“Is that a threat or a promise?” I challenged, raising an eyebrow.
“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out.” Dillon’s hand brushed against mine, a brief spark in the dim light, an invitation to play with fire. And damn it if I didn’t want to get burned.
Dillon’s eyes locked onto mine, a wordless exchange in a chaotic room. Bodies writhed and wriggled to pulsating bass, but the electric current coursing through my veins could not be suppressed. That gaze was like a physical touch, searing into me and marking me as his possession. I couldn’t escape it, couldn’t break free from the hold he had on me.
“Too many prying eyes here,” he murmured, his voice a thread of silk woven with steel. “I don’t want to stand here in the middle of the place where just anyone could see me.” His gaze looked across the room and he seemed to find what he was looking for when he turned back to me.
I hesitated before speaking. We had already made plans, but now that the moment was here, doubts and fears flooded my mind. Was I really ready for this? Could I handle the consequences of my decision? But I couldn’t back out now, not after all we had discussed. I took a deep breath and forced myself to say the words: “Lead the way, then.” The weight of my commitment settling heavily on my shoulders.
He smirked, a dangerous half-smile that hinted at trouble, the kind my mama warned me about and the kind I always found myself drawn to like a moth to a fucking blaze. Without another word, he took hold of my hand, his touch scorching against my skin.
Dillon didn’t weave through the crowd so much as part it like some sort of dark messiah. People stepped aside, some with reverence, others with caution etched into their faces. He had that effect—commanding without saying a word. I followed without hesitation, our linked hands an anchor in the sensory overload of the place and people surrounding us.
We slipped into a shadowy alcove, secluded from the pulsating life of the club. It wasn’t quiet—the throb of music had a heartbeat all its own that I could feel in my bones. But it was still a world away from the chaos. The dim light painted him in shades of mystery, highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw and the predatory set of his shoulders. We took our seats, and a waiter came over and took our drink orders.
Dillon leaned back against the seat, relaxed and unbothered. As if he owned the place. “Better?” he asked, his voice low, thrumming with a frequency that did funny things to my insides.
“Depends on what happens next,” I replied, leaning in close enough to share the air he breathed out. The scent of him—clean and something wickedly spicy—wrapped around me, a tangible thing.
His laugh was a rumble from deep within his chest. “Impatient, aren’t we?”
Now that I had decided to jump in with both feet, I was ready to take the leap. “Never been one for waiting.” I matched his posture, leaning back, relaxed. There was no room left for second thoughts. His nearness was intoxicating. More potent than any drink served behind the bar.
“Good,” he said, the promise in his voice winding tight around my body. “I don’t plan on wasting time, but I do want to enjoy our night.”
I shifted my body to face him as Dillon unfolded his body next to me like a panther claiming his territory.
“Enjoy our night, huh?” I questioned with a smile.
“Exactly,” he replied, his eyes roaming over me with an intensity that left me feeling exposed in the best possible way. “I intend to savor every moment with you, Grace. Take my time truly getting to the woman underneath.” His voice was sin incarnate.
I swallowed hard, my body reacting to his words, to the dark promise in them. “I’m not sure I’m a fan of slow,” I said, surprised my voice didn’t betray the tremble I felt inside.
Dillon leaned forward, his hand coming to rest on my knee beneath the table. Even through the fabric of my dress, his touch burned. “Trust me, baby. With me, you’ll learn to appreciate the build-up. The delicious torture of anticipation.”
I held his stare, refusing to be the first to look away, to concede. “Pretty sure of yourself there, aren’t you?”
His hand slid higher up my thigh, and I clenched my teeth to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep. And I promise you, Grace, when I’m done with you, you’ll be thoroughly…satisfied.”
“Well, damn. Who knew that’s what you had in store for me?” I smirked.
“That’s the plan,” he retorted lazily, his gaze roving over me with a possessiveness that had my skin prickling in anticipation. He chuckled lightly, the sound echoing through the booth and wrapping around us like a cloak. “I thought you would want all the romance and shit. If that’s what you need, I’m willing to give it to you. Plus, don’t all women want that first? Wining? Dining?”
“Well, life’s full of surprises, because I’m not like those other women. Wining and dining are nice, but I like what we’re doing here.” I countered with a shrug, crossing my legs slowly, drawing his attention to the line of brown skin peeking from under my skirt.
His gaze followed the motion, darkening noticeably. “So it seems.”
We continued our little back and forth, trading barbs and smiling over the lips of our glasses. It was tantalizing, this push and pull between us. Dangerous but addictively thrilling.
The clink of ice against glass punctuated our conversation, a steady rhythm to the night’s ebb and flow. We were several drinks deep—bourbon for Dillon, vodka tonic for me—and his stories unfolded like those of my favorite author. He pulled me into his world, weaving stories of his past that only made me want to know more about him. He was fascinating and his life was dangerous, and I wanted more.
Being with Dillon was like a balm to my soul. He fed me information about his life, but not to scare me off. Not after that first night. It still made me wonder if he was really what he claimed to be. No one this funny and engaging could really be a hardened killer and mob enforcer, right? I took a sip of my drink as he continued his story.
“Then he had the balls to come at me with a baseball bat,” Dillon chuckled, swirling the amber liquid in his tumbler. “Let’s just say he swings for a different team now.”
“Sounds like he struck out,” I shot back, the alcohol loosening my tongue. I know it was a corny comeback, but I couldn’t help it. The smile on my face was huge, and my entire body shook with laughter at my joke.
“Big time.” His eyes glinted with mischief, allowing me that moment. But then something shifted in his gaze and the posture of his body. He glanced off to the side. A flicker of confusion, then anger, cut through the humor on his face like a razor.
“Dillon. Is something wrong?” I asked, twisting to look.
“Stay here, Gracie. Just give me a minute. I’ll be right back.” He pressed a hand to my shoulder, a brief touch that sent a wave of heat down my spine.
I watched as he slipped away, his movements a mix of grace and menace. That’s when I saw him—the man. He was nondescript, the kind you’d never pick out of a lineup, but Dillon tracked him like a hawk.
Then the guy handed off something—a phone, maybe?—to another shadow slinking in the dark corners of the club. Dillon paused in his steps. Even from where I sat, I could see one hand go to his jacket and pull the material back. Did he have a gun? No. Not possible. Wait, what was I saying? It was entirely possible. He was part of the mafia, right?
After a few moments, Dillon turned back to me. As he approached our seats, I could see his jaw tighten, and that’s when I knew. Our fun night had just taken a drastic turn. “Dillon?” It seemed so cliche, but all I could do was call his name. Were we in danger? Who was that guy? What was happening?
“Grace, we gotta go,” he said to me. There was no room for questions in his tone, only commands. From the look in his eyes, I wouldn’t be getting any answers to my unspoken questions anytime soon.
With a shaky breath, I gathered my purse and rose from my chair. My heart thudded against my chest, the combination of adrenaline and alcohol coursing through me. I knew I was stepping into Dillon’s world now, for better or worse.
We made our way through the oblivious crowds of party-goers, their laughter and chatter a stark contrast to the tension that gripped me. Dillon pulled out his phone, his fingers moving frantically over the screen.
“Conall, it’s D,” he spoke urgently into the device. “We’ve got a problem.”
And in an instant, the night shifted into unknown territory. Fear coiled in my stomach as I wondered what kind of trouble was brewing around us, and could I stomach what was to come?
Was the reality of being with someone I had dreamed of for so long worth the risk?