Page 2 of Obsidian Devotion

"Your Manhattan, sir." I keep my voice professional and my smile warm enough to ensure a good tip.

He leans forward, his heavy cologne invading my space. "When do you get off tonight, sweetheart?"

“That information is not for men who call me sweetheart." I wink and move down the bar, ignoring his indignant sputter.

Men. They’re all so annoying.

The Inferno Club is New York’s playground for the obscenely rich, and Isabella Bellanti runs it like the queen she is.

I've worked here for three months, taking my place behind this Italian marble bar top.

Three months of pouring drinks for criminals dressed in Armani, of learning the rhythms of this family, of waiting forhim.

Lorenzo Bellanti.

I check my watch. It's almost midnight. The Bellanti siblings will soon fill the VIP room for their monthly gathering. Isabella, Olivia, Matteo, Angelo. All of them excepthim.

For the past three months that I have been working here, I haven't come across his shadow. But I suppose, as the enforcer of the family, he's got a lot of shit to do.

Dangerous shit.

"Sofia." Isabella appears at my side, her black cocktail dress hugging curves that have half the men in here ordering drinks they don't want.

Even after two children, she still looks super attractive. At twenty-nine, she's a striking presence with her long dark hair cascading down her back, the auburn highlights catching theclub's dim lighting. Those sharp green eyes, the distinctive family trait, miss nothing as they sweep over me.

"You'll handle the VIP section personally tonight."

"Of course." I keep my voice steady, though my heart kicks against my ribs. "Any special requests?"

"The usual for everyone." She lowers her voice. "And Lorenzo prefers Macallan 25, neat. He doesn't like to ask twice."

My fingers nearly slip on the glass I'm polishing. "Mr. Bellanti is coming tonight?"

A flash of curiosity crosses Isabella's face. "Yes. First time in months. Problem?"

"Not at all. Just want to be prepared."

She studies me for a beat too long before nodding. "Good. You're the best hire I've made in years. Don't make me regret putting you in Lorenzo's path."

I smile, all innocence. "I'm just pouring drinks, Isabella."

"Honey, nobody'sjustanything around my brother." She pats my arm and glides away.

Nobody's just anything around my brother.

If only she knew.

—

The VIP lounge glows with amber lighting, imitating the vibe of the club.

I arrange crystal decanters on a silver tray, checking my reflection in the mirrored bar back.

My natural red locks—a gift from my mother's Irish genes—usually fall to mid back, but tonight they're pinned up. I smack my lips together, appreciating the way my red lipstick accentuates my amber eyes and cream-colored skin—the only thing I got from my father’s Italian side.

I've heard Lorenzo has a weakness for redheads, and I plan to use that to my advantage.

Two years of planning, of becoming someone else. Of learning how to move into this world. Now, everything hinges on making an impression.

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