Page 51 of Nicoli

“My wife is staying right here with me.”

“I just want to have a good time with my best friend on my birthday. Is that too much to ask?”

Alexius’ dark brows curve inward, and Leandra and I notice he’s about to lose his shit.

Leandra lets go of Mira’s pinky and slips in next to her husband. “Maybe later, Mira.”

“Oh, my God,” she exclaims. “How is it that I spent eighteen years in this family and only realize now that you’re all assholes?”

She’s stomping toward the door when I slide in behind her, wrapping my fingers around the back of her neck, squeezing just enough to make my intentions known. “You’re pissed at me. You’re hurting, and I get that.” I step up, pressing my chest against her back, and I feel her shudder. “But this new spoiled brat attitude of yours will only get you into trouble. So, just. Stop.”

She stands completely still, and I can see her chest rise and fall as I glance down over her shoulder.

“This isn’t me being a spoiled brat, Nicoli. This is me being a woman scorned.”

She leaves toxic energy behind as she walks off, out the door and down the stairs. Everything is spinning out of control—her, me, us, my resolve to stay away from her.

My heart races as I watch her step onto the dance floor, slipping past swaying bodies. The thought of any part of another man touching her—whether it’s his back, his shoulder, or his goddamn foot—is forcing venom through my system. It’s poisoning me from the inside, its toxicity cutting through the thin tether of my control.

I don’t know when it happened, but somehow, somewhere, my instinct to protect her morphed into a possession that’s stronger than my need to keep her from figuring out the truth.

I’m standing at the top of the stairs watching Mira like a hawk when Nunzio Ferrero decides to grace us with his presence. “Nicoli Del Rossa.”

I’m not amused. “Nunzio.”

His gold chain glints as the colored lasers swirl around us. “I never thought I’d see the day the Del Rossa brothers would set foot in one of my clubs.”

“That makes two of us.”

A sly grin appears on his face. He gives me that Sicilian mob boss vibe—the kind women drop their panties for, and the kind men like me just want to plant lead in his chest for.

I gesture toward Alexius, standing inside the lounge with his arm snaked around his wife’s waist. “You should probably go speak to my brother. He’s the diplomat.”

“And you?”

I smirk. “I’m the one he sends when talking is no longer an option.”

“So, you’re the dog on a leash.” Nunzio’s eyes gleam with arrogance.

“And I’d love to show you why.” It’s a challenge, and he knows it.

My eyes fall on Mira dancing, and Nunzio follows my gaze.

“Ah. I can see why you’re so tense. Your wife is stunning. Sure to catch the eye of every man here.” His voice drips with innuendo, and it makes it impossible to react. I don’t even care about telling him she’s not my wife. All I care about is slitting his fucking throat.

I’m about to reach for the knife tucked away at my side when Alexius intervenes. “Nicoli, why don’t you go to the dance floor and check on Mira.”

He tramples me with a warning glare, and I clench my fists before turning away, knowing I’m about to start a war in this club if I don’t leave now.

Mira is dancing, her eyes closed and back arched, her head tipped back, showering in sensuality, moving in a trance-like state. Her hips swing in the rhythm of the music, her breasts bounce with every move, and her body responds seductively to the beat, all provoking my urge to touch her. But instead of throwing myself at her, I watch her from a distance, entranced by her. The war inside me has never raged as it’s doing now—a war between me wanting to protect her and to claim her.

Some fucker wearing a white shirt and a death warrant around his neck slips in behind her. A tornado of flames blasts through me, and I stop breathing. He better not fucking touch—motherfucker!He touched her.His hands settle on her hips, and my primal need to keep her from predators looking to touch what’s mine…

Fuck!She’s not mine. She’s not mine. She’s not. Mine.

Fuck this shit.

I’m shoving sweaty bodies out of my way until I reach her and grab her arms, dragging her off the dance floor.

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