Page 50 of Nicoli

“Excuse me.” I grab her wrist, tugging her close. “He wasn’t talking to you.”

“Look at my lips, sweetheart.” She lifts her chin, and my gaze immediately falls to her blood-red mouth, that perfect Cupid’s bow tempting the fuck out of me. “I…don’t…care.”

I pull her close, slamming her body into mine, her breath swooshing across those pretty fucking lips of hers. “I would caution you against fucking with me, woman.”

“I won’t. You have Paula for that, remember?”

“What I do remember is you fucking her mouth like her tongue was my dick.”

“Yours?” she smirks. “It wasn’t your dick I was picturing.”

Jealousy thickens my gut, and I’m two seconds away from hauling her ass out of here and taking her to the Antarctic, where she’ll be forced to wear layer upon layer upon layer of clothing. It’s a crazy plan, but it doesn’t make it any less appealing.

Mira takes a step back, and her gaze darts over me with a sassy upturned curve of her lips. Little minx is testing me, trying to fuck with my head. Only she doesn’t have to try this hard because she’s been fucking with my head since she came on Paula’s face.

With one last haughty look, she blows me a mocking kiss, her eyes swimming with a cattiness I’ve never seen in her before. I almost laugh at her audacity. Yet secretly I’m enjoying it far more than I should. Her little game is like heroin to my monster.

Luckily, my twin brother picked up what I was putting down mentally and accepted the wrestler’s offer for a private lounge. Mira doesn’t look at me as we weave through the crowd. She’d hate for me to see her sulk after her short-lived victory.

I straighten my suit jacket sleeves, stepping next to Alexius as we walk through the club. Our presence demands attention, and a sea of heads turn to stare at us. Those who aren’t gawking are dancing in tight spaces. The scent of sweat, cologne, and sex cling to the smoke that drifts from the floor up to the air.

Mira is behind me. I know this because I can feel her eyes stabbing the back of my skull. Finally, we reach the stairs, and I stand to the side, letting her go first because there is no chance in hell anyone else is walking behind her only to gawk at her ass while she sways her hips up these steps.

Bad idea. Terrible idea. Because nowI’mthe motherfucker gawking at her ass. I’m biting my bottom lip the entire way up as she sways her hips hypnotically. The red fabric accentuates her curves, the smooth skin of her thighs glowing under the pulsing lights. And those calves—Jesus, I want them wrapped around my waist while I make her sing for me with slow, deep thrusts, feeling her virginity tear around my thick girth.

The things I’d do to her—my God.

We walk into the private lounge decked with black leather couches and gold-framed glass tables. The walls are a deep shade of sultry mulberry, the club music tearing through the glass barriers. Waitresses in black mini-dresses slink around, their hair tied in sleeked-back ponytails. Caelian is on them like a cat on a rat the second he walks through the entrance. I would probably be, too, if I weren’t so damn invested in Mirabella.

“Thanks,” I say to Alexius as the women grab some champagne.

“For what?”

“Don’t be coy.”

He snickers. “Did you really think I’d let them come to this club and not have them safely tucked away?”

I frown at him questioningly. “You arranged this?”

“Of course. I sent word to Nunzio, saying it’s a special occasion. And then I also suggested that tonight might be a good time to discuss a few things. You know—” he shrugs “—possible future endeavors.”

“What? You want to do business with the Ferreros? Are you insane?”

“Relax. Just because we’re discussing possible business benefits doesn’t mean any sort of commitment from us. Besides, staying close to your enemies is always a good idea.”

“I don’t like it.” I grab a glass of whiskey from a waitress’s tray as she strolls by. “Any kind of conversation with these fuckers has the potential to turn into a dildo right up our asses.”

“Let me worry about the Ferreros. You worry about keeping greedy hands off Mirabella.”

“Fuck me,” I mutter, slamming the whiskey back. At this rate, I’ll need a tank full of alcohol to get through this night without murdering someone…or slipping my dick inside her.

Mira is leaning against the private bar, the yellow lights creating a halo around her hourglass shape. I’ve never seen her this drenched in seduction, her eyes sparkling with mischief and excitement—a lethal combination for a man like me. I’d be a stupid fuck if I tried to convince myself that my desire for her isn’t growing to new heights. I’ve wanted her for the longest time, but it’s never been this debilitating. It’s like I’m an animal, and Mira is in fucking heat—a primal lust stronger than any other instinct. How do I fight this? How do I stay away from her when images of her naked body are on replay in my head? When I’ve had a taste of what it would be like to claim her?

I’m entranced as she empties her champagne flute and links her pinky with Leandra’s. “Let’s go dance.”

Alexius wraps his fingers possessively around Leandra’s elbow. “I don’t think so.”

“We’re just dancing,” Mira says. “It’s not like we’re stripping.”

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