Page 136 of Dominance

But he isn’t. And my best friend is going to die if I don’t do something.

In my addled haze, the slow-motion fugue of the violent pause, I look down, into the purse laying beside me, my fingers wrapped around something cold and metal inside the bag.

A pop snaps in my head, almost audible in my ears.

Everything goes still.

Deadly still in my mind.

I lock eyes with the brute as he bends down, raising his blade and grabbing me by the neck, pulling me close. His breath reeks as he gets right in my face.

Right where I need him.

“Die, Vipera bitch.”

His grip tightens, the dagger flips in his fingers, ready to plunge into me.

“I’m a fucking Diamante,” I choke out.

And jam the barrel of Lita’s .38 right into his mouth, squeezing with all of my might.

27

ADRIANO

“Take off that bag and put on another, cause we’re gettin’ nasty tonight!” Stefano hollers, opening the trunk of the car as two sets of hands pull me out of the vehicle.

“Dammit, Stef.” I kick at him and the sly fucker dodges away.

“Haha! You really think I was gonna pass up a chance to get you like this? It’s your bachelor party,stronzo!” The five of them all laugh, exchanging high fives and fist bumps.

“Eh,vaffanculo,” I growl, shaking off the stiffness of their handling and the ride over here.

Here, of course, being Dom’s favorite little exclusive shithole nightclub. The Diamond Lounge.

“Come on, let’s get you drunk, get you high, and get you fucking laid!”

Pumping my fist sarcastically, I get shouldered along in the press, up the stairs, past the block-long line of would-be partiers.

“Mr. Diamante, congratulations,” the bouncer cheers as we pass, slapping me on the back.

“Thanks, Bishop.” Hard to believe he still works here after Dom overhauled the place.

Inside, the thump of the bass and the flash of the lights muffle everything else, including my thoughts, racing for a way out of this. It’s the last place I want to be tonight.

We were supposed to be together, Gloria and I.

One last chance for a moment of peace before the ceremony. Because who knows how it’s going to end.

We cut straight through the dance floor, bodies bumping against us as Stefano’s meatheads clear a path toward the VIP area. Then through the gathering of lower-level celebs and suck-ups lounging on the white couches, every shimmering glass surface loaded up with Brignac, Cognac, Dom Perignon, and every other top-end spirit imaginable. All garnished with silver trays of coke, and goblets of shiny candy, pills in every color for every taste.

Stefano grabs a handful as he passes, greeting a few regulars, a couple of pro-ballers.

It’s a street soldier like Stef’s wet dream in here.

But we’re not staying.

After a few shots, two out five I manage to toss over my shoulder, we ascend again, through the center of the circular mezzanine up a winding staircase with transparent walls. All the way up to the balcony, where Dom likes to hold court on the weekends.

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