Fuck, he looks gorgeous.
It’s been so long since I last saw him I had almost forgotten how completely hot he is. His hair is newly cut, and he has the front styled back off his face and the sides shorn tight. The layer of stubble on his chin and cheeks is neat, and my fingers twitch with a craving to touch it. His black button-down shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, hugging his huge biceps and the impressive chest I am familiar with. He has the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing the ink on his arms. With black pants and shoes, he looks like a dark angel and the epitome of sin.
A sin I want to indulge in repeatedly.
I want to strip him bare and lick him all over.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, dragging me away from the naughty thoughts running through my head. His eyes skim over my red dress with no show of emotion or interest, and it hurts. “I know I didn’t invite you.”
“You should have.” I cock my head to one side and slant him with a sharp look.
“This is no place for underage virginprincipessas,” he replies, earning a round of laughter from the table.
Heat creeps up my neck and onto my cheeks as pain obliterates my insides. Why is he being so cruel? “There is no need to be rude. I only came to give you your gift.” That’s not exactly true. I stupidly thought I’d show up here looking too gorgeous to resist and he’d fall back into my arms.
I guess there is no end to my stupid bravery.
The blonde giggles, and I turn venomous eyes on her. The sight of her draped all over him is killing me. A heavy weight presses down on my chest, and my heart feels like it’s ripping apart inside me. Sobs are building at the base of my throat, but I won’t set them free. Instead, I transform the emotion into anger, letting my rage take over. I glare at the blonde as my hands ball into fists at my sides. I want nothing more than to tear her from limb to limb, before whaling on Leo, but I won’t make a scene. I’m not going to disgrace myself in front of all his friends and my father’ssoldati.
Holding my head up and my shoulders back, I level Leo with a warning look. “Get rid of the whore, or I’ll use the gun in this box on her.”
He stares at me, and it hurts to see the cold glint in his eyes. His face lacks the warmth he usually reserves for me, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he hates me. Except I do know him. And this is a front. A wall to keep me out. Like the girl on his lap. She means nothing to him. She’s a tool to keep me away. “Go get a drink,” Leo says, lifting her off his lap.
She is tall and extremely skinny, her shape almost androgynous except for those ridiculous boobs. It’s like he purposely set out to find someone the opposite of me. Honestly, she looks like she might topple over any second. I’d enjoy trampling her underfoot if she did.
“But, Leo!” She pouts, like she’s a toddler, stomping her foot.
“Now,” he growls, piercing her with a dark look.
She glares at me, looking like she wants to wring my neck, before she totters off in the direction of the bar.
“You can sit here, beautiful,” a guy with short dark-blond hair says. He’s sitting at the edge of the booth on the other side, patting his thigh in invitation as his gaze wanders salaciously over my body.
“She’s not staying,” Leo barks, dropping his cold façade and glowering at the guy.
“My father owns this club. I’ll stay if I want to,” I retort.
Leo regains control of himself, shrugging. “Suit yourself.”
“Damn. You’re Natalia Mazzone,” the other guy says. His eyes trail up and down my body, and out of the corner of my eye, I spy Leo digging his nails into his thighs. I guess he’s not as immune as he wants me to believe. “You’re fucking beautiful. Best-looking woman in the room by a mile. I’d love to get my hands all over you, but I value breathing.” He winks, shaking his head as he takes one last look before turning away from me to talk to the guy beside him. I’m guessing this is the reaction I’ll get from every guy in the room because everyone is too scared to cross my brother or my father.
“Can we get this over and done with?” Leo asks, folding his arms and looking bored. “I have a date to get back to.”
I’m tempted to remove the gun and shoot him with it. I even debate not giving him the gift now, but I remind myself this is all an act to push me away. I slide the box to him. “Happy birthday, Leo.” Before he can stop me, I lean down and press a kiss to his cheek, uncaring I’m flashing a lot of cleavage at the men on this side of the booth. A few groans and cusses ring out, and I know I have the attention of every man at this table.
Good. I hope Leo notices and gets jealous.
His clean, citrusy scent wraps around me, and I almost fling myself at him, catching myself in time. My heart thuds painfully behind my chest, and I want to beg him to take me back. But I have more self-respect than that. I’m not groveling for any man. Ever.
“Stop it,” he says through gritted teeth, his eyes lowering to my chest.
“Open it,” I snap back, straightening up, letting my anger take charge again.
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he looks at his name engraved on the front before he opens the box, examining the gun box, thick cigars, hip flask, silver lighter, and Italian leather wallet and belt. Every piece was painstakingly chosen and customized for him by me. I’ve been planning this for months. Yet nobody would ever know it looking at his bland expression.
“Holy hell.” The guy to Leo’s right exclaims, lifting the gun from the box. “Is this what I think it is?” He opens it up, and his eyes almost bug out of his head.
“It’s a Smith & Wesson Model 19, from the nineteen thirties,” I confirm. “It’s alleged to have once been owned by Lucky Luciano himself.” I don’t know if that’s true, but it’s definitely a collector’s item. It cost a small fortune, and I used a large chunk out of the inheritance Mama left me, but it was worth it.
