Chapter 19 #2
Luc stood on the third-floor balcony of the VIP area, a dark silhouette against the amber glow of chandeliers.
The sight of him stole her breath. He wore a tailored black suit, the jacket open, shirt unbuttoned at the throat, a glint of his watch catching the light as he rested one hand on the railing.
His eyes were fixed on her—intense, unblinking, claiming.
Around him, the crowd seemed to fade, their noise and motion swallowed by the weight of his presence.
He looked both alluring and dangerous. The kind of man who could make you tremble with one look and ruin you with a whisper. That gaze alone felt like a touch, sliding over her skin, coaxing her pulse to quicken.
A slow smile curved Mia’s lips. The thrill of defiance surged through her, reckless and intoxicating. She raised a single finger and crooked it toward him, a silent, sensual invitation. Her hips swayed to the heavy rhythm of the music, each movement deliberate—a dare.
Luc’s jaw flexed. Then, without breaking eye contact, he descended the stairs.
People parted instinctively as he passed, the pulse of the club seeming to bend around him. When he reached her, she barely had time to catch her breath before his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest. His body was hard and warm, his breath brushing her ear.
The music wrapped around them, and he moved with her—slow, controlled, unmistakably possessive. Every shift of his hips made her body react in kind, and she felt herself flush, caught between surrender and defiance.
“Time to leave,” he murmured, his voice low and edged with amusement.
“No,” she whispered, her pulse thrumming. “I want to dance. I want to party all night.”
He chuckled, the sound deep and dark against her skin. “You’ve already been here three hours, mia colombina. It’s time to come home.”
Mia spun in his arms, her palms flattening against his chest before sliding up to loop around his neck. Her lips curved into a teasing smile. “And if I refuse?”
Luc’s eyes glinted with danger and desire, his hand tightening at her waist as the beat thundered around them. “Then,” he said softly, “you’ll make me carry you out in front of everyone.”
“Why?”
A flicker of hesitation crossed his face. “Just precaution.”
Then the first gunshot cracked.
—POP—
A champagne bottle exploded at the bar.
—POP-POP—
Screams split the air as two more bullets tore through the mirrored ceiling, showering glass like deadly rain.
Mia hit the floor, her palms slicing open on the shards.
Luc’s body dropped over hers, shielding her completely as chaos detonated around them—stampeding feet, overturning tables, the acrid burn of gunpowder cutting through perfume and spilled liquor.
Then his weight was gone. “Luc!”
He was already moving. In one motion, he pulled her by the arm, dragging her behind a marble pillar as he drew his Glock. “Stay down,” he commanded, voice low but edged with steel.
Through the chaos, she caught sight of Carlos, darting through the panicked crowd like a liquid shadow. He flipped a table on its side, gun raised, eyes sharp and cold.
—BANG—
One shooter collapsed from the mezzanine, his weapon clattering onto the floor.
Then she saw the second one near the service entrance. His weapon leveled, not at Luc. At her.
“Luc!” she screamed, but her voice was swallowed by the chaos.
Time fractured into heartbeats. The muzzle flash bloomed, blinding white, and Luc was there—his body colliding with hers, shoving her sideways. The sound split her eardrums, and pain followed—a sharp cry tearing from her throat as he grunted, the bullet grazing his arm instead of her shoulder.
—BANG-BANG—
Carlos’s return fire echoed like thunder. The gunman fell, limbs slack, weapon dropping from his grip.
Then silence. Thick, choking silence.
Mia blinked through the haze of smoke and shattered glass. The club was unrecognizable—crimson streaks across the marble, bullet holes in velvet walls, crystal chandeliers hanging like wounded stars. Bianca sobbed in Tony’s arms. Somewhere, a woman whimpered.
Luc hauled Mia to her feet, his blood streaking her dress. “You’re hit,” she gasped.
“Just a scratch.” His voice was rough, the muscle in his jaw ticking. His hands roamed over her shoulders, her waist, her legs—urgent, trembling with restraint. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, though she couldn’t seem to stop shaking. Sirens wailed outside, rising and falling like distant screams. Luc pressed his forehead to hers, his breath uneven, hot.
“Let’s go.”
Mia’s hands trembled as she touched his wound. The moment she felt the sticky warmth of his blood, something inside her broke. A sound tore from her throat—raw and strangled, part sob, part fury.
This… this was no way to live. To love.
Outside, the night air hit her like ice.
Luc’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her close as they slipped through the exit to where the cars waited.
He guided her into the back seat, shielding her from the flashing lights and chaos.
Carlos was already giving clipped orders, his face grim, while Bianca and Tony were ushered into the second vehicle.
Armed guards fanned out, forming a perimeter.
As their car pulled away, Mia leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window.
The city lights blurred through her tears.
She felt numb, her chest hollow, the adrenaline fading into exhaustion.
Luc’s voice was low, steady. “You’re safe now.”
But Mia didn’t feel safe.
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks as the car sped through the night, bodyguards trailing close behind. For the first time, she realized the depth of her fear—not of dying, but of losing him. And of what this life was turning her into.