Page 4 of The Merciless Don's Bride

She’s in the center of the floor, a drink in one hand, her head thrown back in laughter. A tiny slip of a black dress clings to her body, riding high on one hip as she moves. Barely there straps slipping of one shoulder. Golden skin, bright eyes. A mouth that was made to drive men to their knees.

I feel a crack in the ice that’s been sealing me in for years. Almost like a punch. I move to the shadows instinctively. Watching as she dances without a care in the world, unaware of the predator lurking around her.

She’s fire and light, and I am everything that exists to smother it. And yet, I can’t look away.

Cassandra’s beautiful. Not in the polished, painted way most women are portrayed in commercials. No. She’s raw, wild, untamed. Real.

Unfortunately, real things don’t last long in my world. But the way this woman keeps my attention on her has not wavered one fucking bit.

A man moves toward her, tall, tanned, smiling at her. Cassie laughs again, shaking her head but the bastard doesn’t take the hint. His hand brushes her waist. Heat flares up in my spine and my fingers curl into fists.

No.

She doesn’t belong to him. She doesn’t belong to anyone. Yet.

I step deeper into the shadows, forcing myself still. Tonight is not the night to take her. I watch her laugh again but this time it isn’t as carefree. She’s uncomfortable. The man leans in closer, hand sliding lower. A muscle ticks in my jaw.

Enough.

I turn on my heel, striding out into the night before I do something reckless. Now’s not the time.

“Rafael,” I call, my voice deceptively calm. “Make sure to get rid of him.”

He nods, “Of course, Boss.”

“See you back in New York. Let’s go, Luca.”

The door of my car opens, and I slide in. Despite the pulsing need inside me to go back in there and claim her as my own, my bride. Just as she should have always been.

CHAPTER TWO

CASSIE

It’s amazing how a single phone call has the potential to ruin a life completely. Hours, minutes, seconds could be the distinction between happiness and disaster. Your life crumbles and you wonder if there was anything you could have done to stop it. If you could have been better, if you didn’t do enough. It’s always the wondering that gets you. The regret, the constant wishing that things could have been different.

Regret in my opinion is the most overpowering emotion. It eats at your mind long into the future, long after the incident has passed. I’ve always tried to live my life without regrets. Taking the bull by the horns is my motto.

Unfortunately somethings are just beyond my control.

***

The music thrums against my ribs like a second heartbeat, the bass heavy enough to make the floor vibrate under my heels. I’m three drinks in and I feel good.

Loose. Alive. For the first time in weeks. All the stress I’ve been feeling melts away. I lift my arms above my head, moving to the beat, my dress riding a little higher with each sway of my hips.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a prickle starts. A slow, creeping sensation that slides over my skin like a caress. A whisper that someone’s watching me. I pause, the hair at the nape of my neck stands on end.

The urge to glance around the club fills me. to find whoever it is. But I know it’s futile. I’ve become accustomed to this feeling. Anytime I talk about it, my friends tell me it’s all in my head. Maybe I’m just imagining it all. But the feeling refuses to go away.

Like someone’s waiting for me. I shake it off.

Stop being paranoid, Cassie.

I grab Chloe’s hand, pulling her towards me as we dominate the dancefloor. I laugh, wild and free. Nothing’s going to ruin tonight for me. My friend and I move in tandem to the beat. Her blonde hair flies everywhere as she jumps up. She’s completely plastered. Chloe has famously low tolerance. I giggle at the drunken sheen in her blue eyes.

I’m about to suggest we go back to Maxine who’s standing by the bar like a drill sergeant, her eyes poring over the room. But then I feel a hand wrap around my waist.

“Hey, baby girl,” a voice whispers in my ear.

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