Page 125 of Scorned Obsession

I wasnotin the mood. I raised my hand to show him my ring. “Married.”

“I don’t see the husband and you seem to be having a ladies’ night.”

“Are you stalking me?” I demanded.

“Stalk?” he laughed. I could smell the beer on his breath, but he didn’t appear to be slurring his words to be drunk enough for bad judgment. No, he was just drunk on his ego. “Just having fun.”

“I’m tired and I want to go back to the booth.”

I moved past him, but then he grabbed my arm and yanked me. I stumbled into him and the foot that was throbbing twisted.

“Don’t be a bitch,” he hissed. “I just want a dance.”

Oh, hell no. I lifted my knee and nailed him in the groin.

By the time the man dropped, both Miller and Al were already beside me. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Just twisted my ankle a bit.”

“Take her to the booth,” Al told Miller.

I didn’t want Al to get in trouble. Not in full view of the public.

“No. You’re going to sit your ass in that booth with me and the girls and do nothing.”

Al’s mouth tightened, but he nodded.

“You fucking bitch!” Apparently rock-band-tee guy hadn’t caught on that I had bodyguards and rose to his feet.

Miller blocked him, putting on a fierce face I’d never seen on him before. “Back off. You don’t know who you’re fucking with.”

My wannabe dance companion finally caught on that Al and Miller were with me and sneered. “You’re not worth it anyway.” He turned around and limped into the crush of dancing bodies.

I grabbed Miller’s arm. “Let’s go.”

When we cleared the dance floor, the pumped-in oxygen expanded my lungs. I was still hobbling, making progress with Miller’s help. Sera and Ivy shot up from the booth and met us.

“What happened?” Ivy asked and looked like she was ready to go beat someone up.

“Someone stepped on my foot and then another asshole wanted me to dance and yanked me forward. I twisted my ankle.”

“You shoulda let me deal with him,” Al muttered.

“Let’s not ruin the night,” I said. “And under no circumstances can anyone tell Sandro what happened.”

Chapter

Thirty-Two

Sandro

It’s official. I hate girls’ night out.

Contrary to what Bianca thought, I didn’t have a meeting in Atlantic City. I was about to suggest a dinner date when she informed me that Sera had organized a night on the town. I wanted to tell her to decline the invitation, but she and Divina had worked so hard on the Rossi mansion and getting the accounts back into shape, we were finally getting a bead on the family’s finances.

So here I was in one of the exclusive sections of Cardo, sitting at one of the high-tops, watching the dance floor on the first floor. I hated I couldn’t see Bianca clearly, but at least I could make her out in the crowd.

I brought the drink to my lips and took a sip of whiskey. I’d been busy growing the construction stream of business and paying the New York Albanians a visit. Once word had gotten out that the Rossis and De Luccis were in a truce, they scattered. The ones we caught denied being involved in the club fire and shooting up Jabbin’ Java. I executed the man who instigated theambush the night Al got shot. I also let Al take care of the man who shot him.

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