The black dress Artem picked out for her hugs every curve. Thin straps over her shoulders. Low-cut neckline. Short enough to make me grind my teeth when she shifts her weight from one heel to the other. Her hair’s down and loose around her shoulders.
She looks like sin on legs, and I flash back to just an hour ago in the penthouse, when she came around my fingers.
Sienna is perfection with a big mouth and plenty enough defiance to fill this club.
She’s nursing a drink at the bar and not talking to anyone or even smiling, but her presence still turns heads.
She’s drawing the kind of looks that make me want to smash someone’s face in.
The guy I’m waiting for is late, but that’s not a surprise. It’s part of the game. A power play. But I’ve already done my homework on him.
Angelo DeLuca.
Mid-forties.
Neat, clean, deliberate.
No flashy cars or public outbursts. Moves his product quietly and efficiently. No local heat on him, which is rare. Doesn’t take meetings often, which means if he shows up, he’s at least interested in what I’m selling.
That’s good.
What’s not good is the guy who’s talking to Sienna.
He’s in his mid-twenties and is dressed like he tried too hard. One of those guys who thinks a Gucci belt makes him a gangster.
I clock him sliding onto the stool next to her, leaning in with a smirk like he’s got something clever to say. She doesn’t look impressed, but she doesn’t move away.
I raise two fingers, subtle but sharp, and one of my guys intercepts. The punk barely has time to blink before Sienna’s being dragged toward me with her heels clicking against the floor, and her drink still in her hand.
She glares at me, but I don’t say anything. I just pat the seat next to me.
She flops down dramatically and crosses her legs.
“Was that necessary?” she snaps over the music. “I’m not even allowed to be by myself now?”
“If you want to stay at the bar, wear something ugly,” I mutter, still scanning the room.
“Your bodyguardpicked this dress.”
“He has good taste.”
“This isn’t going to work, Benedikt,” she argues. “Less than twenty-four hours, and I’m already ready to scream from the alpha-male crap you keep throwing at me.”
Stealing a glance at her, she’s still wearing her heated glower. “I am an alpha male, princess. And you’re my payment. Consider it practice for when you meet my father. You think I’m bad? Wait until he tells you you’re a piece of ass that’s going to give me children. That you’re nothing but a body to fuck.” I turn myhead back toward the crowd. “At least I offered you whatever you liked.”
Sienna doesn’t respond, which works in my favor because Angelo has arrived.
He moves toward my table with ease, an entourage of men trailing in his wake. He’s shorter than I expected and built like an ox, wearing a charcoal suit and a button-up with no tie. Clean-shaven. No jewelry.
“Volkov,” he greets with a short nod as he steps into the section.
“DeLuca.” I rise just enough to offer a handshake.
He takes it firmly, then sits across from me, ignoring the bottle of vodka already waiting.
Respectable.
Doesn’t need to be pampered.
