Chapter 14
Elena
I wake up still fuming about last night. Marcello finally contacted me, and I had everything planned out perfectly, only to be thwarted by my six-foot-five behemoth of a babysitter. Marco still thinks I'm some helpless child who needs constant supervision.
Yes, I'm still shaken after my meeting with Ronan—I'm not stupid. But I'm also a grown woman who needs to clean up this mess before it gets worse. I thought we'd moved past the babysitter phase and into something more like bodyguard and protector territory. Apparently not.
I need girl time desperately, which is why Rina, Sofia, and Gianna are coming out with me tonight. Of course, we're limited to Vito-approved venues when he's not around, so we're hitting Beehive Nightclub. I'm not complaining—at least it's a night out, and his club is actually amazing.
I've been giving Marco the silent treatment all day.
While he worked out in the living room, I cleaned and watered my plants on the opposite side of the apartment.
I made lunch and ate in my room, then took a nap to kill time.
Now I'm getting ready, and anticipation buzzes through me like electricity.
Marco already announced he'll be joining us tonight. No discussion, no negotiation—just a flat declaration that made my jaw clench. There's no point arguing when he probably has Vito backing him up. So much for privacy with my girls.
I step out of my room and head to the living room, not seeing Marco anywhere.
He must be in the hallway bathroom. I catch my reflection in the full-length mirror by the front door and pause to admire my work.
The black dress fits like a second skin—knee-length, corset-style bodice with delicate spaghetti straps that show off my shoulders.
I've swept my hair into a messy bun with soft tendrils framing my face, and I'm wearing my favorite black flats because comfort trumps everything when you're planning to dance.
I hear the bathroom door open and see Marco emerge in my peripheral vision. I'm still facing the mirror, so I watch him walk down the hallway behind me. His eyes travel over my reflection slowly, appreciatively, and when his gaze meets mine in the mirror, heat flickers between us for just a moment.
Then I remember I'm supposed to be angry with him.
I turn and walk toward the door without a word. I don't need to see the want in his eyes when his actions tell a completely different story. He wants me, sure, but he also hates when I don't follow his precious rules. Well, here's a newsflash—when have I ever willingly obeyed anyone's rules?
Tonight, there are no rules. I'm going to have fun with my girls, and maybe I'll even have some fun with a few boys too. The memory of Marco's reaction the last time I flirted with someone else makes me smirk. Let's see if I can get a repeat performance.
A sleek black limo idles by the curb as I descend the stairs of my building. The moment I step outside, the door swings open and Sofia's head pops out.
"Get in here, El!" she calls, and I quicken my pace.
Once I'm settled inside, Marco closes the door behind me and walks around to the passenger seat. Great. Even in a limo, I can't escape his presence.
"Where's Rina?" I ask, noticing the empty space where she should be.
"She wasn't feeling well," Gianna explains. "Didn't want to risk getting any of us sick."
My stomach drops a little. I hope she's okay.
The ride to Beehive is short, and when we arrive, the energy is infectious.
There's a line stretching down the alley, and bass-heavy music pounds from inside the building.
We bypass the entire queue and walk straight to the door, where the bouncer stamps our wrists with the signature beehive symbol—a mark that identifies us as Rosso family and essentially makes us untouchable. Vito definitely called ahead.
Inside, the music blasts. God, I've missed this.
We make our way through a hallway to the VIP area, stepping through doors into a sophisticated lounge.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the main dance floor while providing privacy.
Velvet couches and plush chairs create intimate seating areas, and there's a private bar with our own server.
Champagne appears almost immediately—bubbles that match my mood perfectly. I'm practically vibrating with the need to dance.
"Who wants to hit the dance floor?" I ask, bouncing slightly in my seat.
Gianna shakes her head with a smile. "This isn't really my scene, but you two go ahead. I'll watch from up here."
Sofia jumps up and grabs my hand. "Let's do this!"
I hesitate for a second. "You sure you'll be okay alone?"
"Go!" Gianna laughs, pointing toward the windows. "I'll have the best view in the house."
Sofia and I head out to the main floor. I don't bother looking for Marco though I know he's somewhere nearby.
Stop thinking about him and just have fun.
The music is incredible and Sofia and I let loose completely. We're dancing like we're the only people in the world, wild and free and absolutely careless. Song after song plays and we don't stop. My feet are going to hate me tomorrow but right now I don't care.
After maybe four or five songs, Sofia leans in close to my ear. "I'm going to check on Gianna! Be right back!"
"Okay!" I shout back, still moving to the music.
She disappears toward the VIP lounge and I keep dancing. The floor is packed now, bodies pressing together as the energy builds. I spot Marco against the far wall watching me with that intense stare that makes my skin prickle. He looks distinctly unhappy. Jaw tight. Arms crossed.
A cute guy appears beside me, falling into rhythm with the music. He's attractive enough but honestly he's just serving a very specific purpose tonight—pissing off my overprotective shadow.
I turn toward him and let him pull me closer. He leans in to say something and we have to practically shout in each other's ears to be heard over the pounding bass. When he says something that makes me laugh, I deliberately look over at Marco.
Jackpot. He looks absolutely murderous. His hands are clenched into fists and I can see his jaw working even from this distance.
My dance partner leans in again but instead of speaking he presses a soft kiss to my cheek and pulls me closer. His hands settle on my waist as we move together.
I glance back toward Marco. He's not at the wall anymore. My eyes scan the crowd trying to find him.
There. He's cutting through the dance floor. Coming straight toward me.
Before I can react, a firm hand grips my arm and I'm suddenly pulled away from my dance partner.
Marco.
His grip is firm but not painful and his green eyes are blazing with barely controlled anger.
"We're leaving," he growls.
"What? No!" I try to pull against his hold. "Sofia just went to check on Gianna. I'm not—"
"Sofia and Gianna already left."
"What? When?" Confusion floods through me.
"Gianna still wasn't feeling great so they decided to head out. Sofia said to tell you she texted but..." His eyes flick to where my dance partner is still standing, looking confused. "You were busy."
I pull out my phone and sure enough, there's a text from Sofia from ten minutes ago: Gianna's not feeling well. We're heading out. Marco will take you home. Love you!
Guilt floods through me. I was so focused on making Marco jealous that I completely missed my friend's message.
He's already pulling me toward the exit and I'm too embarrassed to fight him anymore. Other patrons step aside as we pass, clearly sensing the tension crackling between us. Some stare outright, probably wondering if they're witnessing a domestic dispute or something more dangerous.
Marco deposits me in the back of a black SUV—of course he had backup transportation ready—and climbs into the driver's seat himself.
The partition between front and back is down giving me a perfect view of his profile as he drives.
His jaw is still clenched tight and his hands grip the steering wheel like he's imagining it's someone's neck.
I sink back into the leather seat and try to ignore the little thrill that runs through me. Mission accomplished—I definitely made him jealous. The question is, what happens now?