I should be drinking the Macallan in my hand and forgetting about everything waiting for me back home, toasting my brother and sister-in-law. Maybe even joining in on the dance floor.
But I’m not.
Isla’s on the floor. Dancing with an Andriani cousin. But if Fabiano doesn’t stop moving in too close, I’m going to have to step in. And I really, really don’t want to have to do that.
The lights flash, and I catch a glimpse of Fabiano’s hand on her ass.
Damn it.
That’smyass.
I want to roar it. I want to tear across the dance floor and stake my claim. I’m not stupid, so I’m not going to do that, and she doesn’t belong to me even if part of me wishes she did.Still, this disrespect can’t go unanswered. I’m not going to let him stand there groping the maid of honor at our don’s wedding reception.
I set down my untouched glass and stride into the throng. The crowd parts for me like the sea. We might be at a wedding reception thousands of miles from home, but I’m still the consigliere for the most powerful don on the East Coast.
I don’t even say a word when I reach Fabiano, just grab his arm and haul him away from Isla.
“The fuck,” he sputters, until he turns and realizes it’s me. “Saint. Sorry. You took me by surprise.”
“What were you doing?” I grind out, not bothering to accept his apology.
His expression goes wary. “Dancing.”
“Not anymore. Go get a coffee.”
He looks like he’s about to protest, so I give him a hard look. One that his him wilting like a rose in the sun. Fabiano nods.
“You got it. Want one for yourself?”
“Sure,” I tell him, even though I have no intention of drinking a coffee.
I make a dismissive gesture, and he scoots away like a scolded dog. Satisfied, I move through the dancers as “Mr. Brightside” starts playing. I don’t get far before I have a little chihuahua nipping at my heels.
Isla jumps in front of me, looking peeved.
“What was all that about?” she demands, as if she has the right.
“None of your concern,” I tell her and move to step around her and get the hell off this dance floor.
It’s too damn loud.
She grips my arm. “Wait.”
I stop and give her an annoyed look. “What’s the problem now, Jane?”
I know she doesn’t like it when I call her by the wrong name, which is why I do it as often as possible. She’s sexy as hell when she’s mad, and I need to keep her angry with me. It’ll be easier that way.
“What did Fabiano do wrong?” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“You two certainly are cozy, aren’t you?” I can’t keep the edge from my voice.
Fabiano’s a decent-enough kid, but he’s twenty-one and thinking with his dick, and there’s no way I’m allowing him anywhere near Isla for the rest of the night.
“We were dancing together.”
“His hand was on your ass.”
Her mouth falls open. “It was not.”
