When we pull up to the mansion, Ginerva opens the door as our car approaches. Damiano storms ahead, not waiting for either of us.
"That went well," Lucrezia whispers with nervous humor as we climb the front steps.
I force a laugh that sounds hollow even to my ears. "I think your brother nearly killed someone tonight."
"You didn't exactly help," she says, but there's no real accusation in her voice. "I've never seen him like that before."
We step into the foyer, the chandelier casting dramatic shadows across the marble floor. Damiano is nowhere to be seen, probably retreated to his office to brood or break something.
"I'm sorry if I ruined your night," I tell Lucrezia.
She shakes her head, silver dress catching the light as she moves. "Are you kidding? That was the most excitement I've had in years." Her expression softens as she reaches the stairs. "But maybe don't poke the bear quite so hard next time? For your sake, not his."
"I can handle your brother," I assure her.
Lucrezia gives me a look I can't quite interpret. "Goodnight, Zoe. Thanks for tonight."
"Goodnight, Lu."
I watch her disappear down the hallway before heading to my own room. My feet ache from dancing in these heels, and exhaustion suddenly hits me like a wave. The confrontation with Damiano at the club replays in my mind—the raw fury in his eyes, the possessive way he'd grabbed that man's throat.
I push open my bedroom door, flipping on the light. The red dress clings to my skin, and I reach down to remove my stilettos when the door crashes open behind me.
Damiano fills the doorway, still in his club clothes—dark jeans and a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to expose tattooed forearms. His eyes are dark fire, locked on mine with predatory intensity.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demand, straightening up.
He steps inside, kicking the door shut behind him.
In two strides, he's in front of me. Before I can react, his hands grab the neckline of my dress. With one savage jerk, he tears it down the middle, the sound of ripping fabric echoing in the silent room.
I gasp, frozen in shock as cool air hits my exposed skin. The dress hangs in tatters around my waist, leaving me in just my black lace bra.
"You're not wearing this fucking dress again," Damiano growls, his voice a dangerous rumble that vibrates through the space between us. His eyes drop to my exposed skin, then snap back to my face. "Not in my club. Not anywhere."
Heat flashes through me—rage, fear, and something else I refuse to name. I lift my chin, refusing to cover myself.
"You think tearing my clothes off proves something? It just shows what a primitive animal you are." I spit out.
His nostrils flare, and he steps even closer. I can smell his cologne mixed with whiskey, feel the heat radiating off his body.
"Provoke me again like you did tonight," he says, each word precise and deadly, "and you'll find out exactly what kind of animal I am."
I laugh in his face, the sound sharp and mocking. "Is that what this is about? Your precious male ego couldn't handle me dancing with someone else?" I step closer until we're almost touching. "Or maybe you're just jealous because for once, someone was looking at me instead of you."
His hand shoots up to grip my jaw, fingers pressing into my skin. Not painful, but firm enough that I can't turn away.
"This isn't about my ego," Damiano says, his Italian accent thickening with anger. "This is about your safety. The man who touched you works for Volkov. The same people who placed Nick to spy on Lucrezia."
I blink, momentarily thrown off balance by this information. But I recover quickly.
"So tear my dress. That'll solve everything." I reach up and wrap my fingers around his wrist, not pulling his hand away, just holding it there. "What's next, Damiano? Lock me in my room? Chain me to your side?"
Damiano releases my jaw, but doesn't step back. Instead, his finger trails down my neck, a featherlight touch that sends unwelcome electricity racing across my skin.
"You see,lupacchiotta," he whispers, his breath hot against my ear, "your words say one thing, but your body..."
His finger continues its descent, tracing my collarbone, then sliding down to the edge of my bra. I try tocontrol my breathing, but it's becoming shallow, betraying me.
