"Sir, I need to—" I began, but my words cut off as he yanked me forward. The momentum caused me to collide with a passing server. A glass tipped, spilling amber liquid down the front of my uniform, soaking through the thin fabric like an instant.
"Now look what you made happen," the man laughed, not loosening his grip. "Guess you'll have to take that off." His friends joined in his laughter, their eyes moving over me with predatory interest.
I pulled harder, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Let go of me." The cold liquid clung to my skin, making the fabric cling. I resisted the urge to cross my arms over my chest, not wanting to show how vulnerable I felt.
"Or what?" he challenged, his voice dropping to something uglier. His fingers dug deeper into my flesh, and I knew there would be bruises tomorrow. "Don't pretend you don't want the attention, sweetheart. Why else would you work in a place like this?"
Across the room, I spotted Marcus moving toward us, his face set in grim lines. Relief flooded through me at the sight of Dario's bodyguard, but before he could reach us, another figure materialized at my side.
"Is there a problem here?" Dario's voice was soft, almost conversational, but something in his tone cut through the music and ambient noise like a blade.
The effect was immediate. Conversations nearby died. The laughter from the man's friends dried up. Even the music seemed to recede, though I knew that was likely the roaring in my ears from the adrenaline.
The drunk patron's grip loosened slightly as he looked up, his face flushing with belligerent recognition. "Mr. Luca," he said, his voice both sloppy and suddenly wary. "Just having some fun with your staff. No harm intended."
Dario's gaze flicked to where the man's fingers still circled my wrist, then to the wet stain spreading across my uniform. His expression didn't change, but something shifted in the air around him, a coldness that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Gerald Gavin," Dario said, the name falling from his lips like an indictment. "Divorced twice. Three children you rarely see. Currently under SEC investigation for insider trading related to the Meridian merger." He stepped closer, his shoulder brushing mine in a gesture that felt both protective and possessive. "Your eldest son just started at Columbia. Pre-law, if I'm not mistaken. Lives in Hartley Hall, room four-twelve but spends most of his time in the room across the hall."
The color drained from Gerald's face as each fact landed like a physical blow. His hand fell away from my wrist as if it had been burned.
"How did you—" he started, then swallowed hard. "I didn't realize she was—"
"Important?" Dario finished for him, his voice still eerily calm. "Everyone who works for me is important, Mr. Gavin. And I don't appreciate you putting your hands on what's important to me."
A chill ran through me at his words. Not at the threat implicit in them, but at the casual way he'd claimed me.What's important to me.The possessiveness in his tone both thrilled and terrified me. I never knew he was this protective of his staff, but I was grateful.
"It was a misunderstanding," Gerald stammered, his previous bravado completely evaporated. "I apologize. To you and to—" His gaze darted to me, then away, unable to meet my eyes.
"Not to me," Dario said. "To her."
Gerald turned to me, his face ashen. "I'm very sorry, miss. It won't happen again."
I managed a tight nod, unable to find my voice. My pulse thrummed visibly at my throat, and I was certain everyone could see it, could probably feel the confusion of emotions tumbling through me. Fear and relief warred with something darker, something that responded to the dangerous power Dario wielded so effortlessly.
"You should leave now," Dario said, the suggestion carrying the weight of a royal decree. "Your membership, and those of your companions, has been revoked."
Gerald nodded jerkily, gesturing to his friends, who rose without protest. They slipped away through the crowd, which parted for them like they carried some contagious disease no one wanted to catch. No one protested. Not once.
Only when they were gone did Dario turn to me, his gaze softening a fraction. "Are you all right?"
Our eyes met, and the world narrowed to just us, the chaos of the club receding into background noise. I saw concern in his expression, but also something else. There was a hunger thatmatched what I'd glimpsed in the tasting room before I'd fled. The same hunger I’d felt every single night since as I lay in bed by myself.
"I'm fine," I managed, though my voice sounded thin even to my own ears. "Thank you."
Dario nodded once, then glanced over my shoulder to where Marcus now stood. "Let Belle get cleaned up. Make sure she's taken care of."
"Of course, sir," Marcus replied, stepping forward.
Dario's gaze returned to mine for one more scorching moment, his eyes tracing the path of the spilled drink down my uniform before meeting my eyes again. "We'll talk later," he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
It wasn't a question or a suggestion. It was a promise.
Marcus placed a gentle hand in the middle of my back, guiding me toward the staff area. As we moved away, I couldn't help looking back over my shoulder. Dario stood where we'd left him, his tall figure commanding the space around him. He watched me go, his expression unreadable from this distance, but the intensity of his gaze followed me like a physical touch. I shivered, though whether from the cold wetness of my uniform or from the memory of how easily he'd rattled off details of that man's life I couldn't say.
What I did know was that I'd just glimpsed a side of Dario Luca that few people saw and survived to talk about. A side that should have sent me running in the opposite direction. Instead, it pulled me toward him like gravity, an inexorable force I wasn't sure I wanted to resist.
Mr. Wilson met us at the staff entrance. “What happened?” he asked as Marcus handed me off to him.
