Page 111 of Bellini Bound
When she reached the door and realized I hadn’t followed, Allie glanced over her shoulder. “You coming?” The corner of her mouth twitched, betraying that her word choice was intentional, meant to taunt me with what I couldn’t have until much, much later.
Shaking my head, I moved toward her. “You’ve just earned yourself a punishment.”
“Oh no, anything but that.” Her straight white teeth dug into her red-painted lower lip as she fought to hide a smile.
My hand came down on that enticing ass with a sharp crack, and she yelped, but damn if her pupils didn’t blow wide.
“Later, baby.” The husky promise was uttered low in her ear as I reached around her to turn the doorknob, ushering her toward where Emilio stood beside the open back door of the oversized SUV.
Her guard, who would also serve as our driver tonight, dipped his chin as we approached. “Looking beautiful tonight, Mrs. Bellini.”
Allie blushed. “Thank y—”
I interrupted her, my voice dropping dangerously low. “Keep your eyes off my wife unless you want them cut out.”
“Enzo!” Allie shrieked. “Don’t threaten the man for being polite.”
That pulled a snort from me. “It’s not polite that he was visually undressing you, sweetheart.”
“He was not!”
Oh, he most definitely was, and it would cost him his post as her security detail come morning. I couldn’t have the men under my command leering at my wife. That split second of distraction focused on her instead of searching for surrounding threats could mean the difference between life and death for the woman I loved, which was simply unacceptable.
“Get in the car, baby,” I commanded. “We’re late enough.”
With a huff and roll of her eyes, she obeyed, taking the hand I offered for stability as she navigated the step onto the running boards in her heels.
The murderous glare I shot Emilio before climbing in behind her was enough to have his throat working on a thick swallow as he dropped his gaze to the ground. He knew he was fucked.
But I would worry about that in the morning. My focus needed to be on the evening ahead.
It was set to be a night we wouldn’t forget for a very long time.
“Wow.” Awe colored that single word as Allie’s big eyes took in the two-story ballroom at the top of the Nickel Regal Hotel downtown.
I couldn’t blame her for being impressed. The space was stunning on its own, featuring floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of Chicago and a curved staircase that led to the second level. But when combined with the glitz and glamour of a high-society gala—where people were willing to spend fifty thousand dollars a plate—it was truly something to behold.
Scanning the crowd, it didn’t take me long to spot Matteo and Summer in conversation with the man of the hour himself, Senator Hawthorne. The Bellinis had a long-standing relationship with the politician, going back to his days as a state representative. We provided him with healthy campaign contributions in exchange for allowing us to cut through the bureaucracy of obtaining building permits.
Hawthorne knew how the game was played. Making deals with less-than-legal business entities with powerful connections was his best chance of achieving his ambitions and advancing his political career. He was up for re-election next year, after which, he would set his sights on the White House. And having the fucking president in our pocket? We would be untouchable.
“This way.” I guided Allie toward them with a hand on her lower back.
The minute she caught sight of Summer, she let out a little squeal, which alerted the other woman to our approach. Allie left my side to rush toward my cousin’s wife, exclaiming, “Oh my God, I love your dress!”
Summer did look beautiful in an empire-waisted black gown, her blonde locks curled and pinned behind one ear, but in my mind, she didn’t hold a candle to Allie.
Holding my wife at arm’s length, Summer did a slow sweep of her from head to toe and shook her head. “Yours is better.”
“Bellini.” Hawthorne dipped his chin in acknowledgment. Though we’d met a few times before, he interacted more with Matteo as the face of both our family and our legal businesses.
“Senator,” I returned his greeting. “Looks to be yet another successful event.”
He nodded, shoving the hand not holding a tumbler of amber liquid into his pants pocket. “The last update from my assistant had us sitting at just shy of thirty million raised in support of urban equity initiatives.”
Humming, I remarked, “Impressive.”
“The night is still young. I’m hoping to break last year’s record of forty-two million.”
