Page 57 of Sins of the Father
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.
