He was coiled tight and was quietly seething about something.
But still, he was impossibly magnetic.
My thoughts spun.
The dinner. The power. The men falling in line.
He wasn’t just involved with the mafia.
Nik was the king!
Which made me…what? His pawn? His prize?
Surely not his queen.
Just then, Nik’s gaze cut into mine. “Eat, Lacey,” he said softly. “We’ve got a long night ahead.”
Something in the way he said it made the air between us crackle.
Heat swept through me, blooming in places that had no business reacting to a simple statement. But nothing was simple now—not with him.
I took two more bites quickly, barely tasting them.
“I’m done,” I said, breathless.
Nik’s smile was slow. Dangerous.
“So eager,” he murmured, his voice a velvet threat. “I could fuck you right on this table, little lamb. But first things first…”
He stood, extending a hand to me.
“We’ve got a midnight mass to attend.”
Chapter thirty-eight
Leaving Club Xyst was a whirlwind.
The main floor was absolutely jam packed, and the music throbbed deafeningly, but it didn’t matter; the second we appeared, people scurried out of our way.
But what startled me more than the space they gave us…was the look on Nik’s face.
Cold. Carved. Kill-switch ready.
He was a man seconds from snapping the neck of anyone who dared breathe in his direction.
Was this how he always looked?
Or was this the cost of starting a war?
I stayed close to him, my feet struggling to keep pace. Nik’s hand guided me with silent pressure. He retrieved my coat but whisked me out to the front without helping me into it. The moment we stepped outside, a sense of danger hit the air like a static charge.
Rory was already waiting with the car, the engine running.
Nik opened the door for me himself.
An eerie silence reigned as we pulled away from the curb. The streets flashed past in a blur of traffic lights and neon signs, until the skyline shifted and we coasted into Chelsea.
I blinked, confused, as the Bentley eased into a parking space on Tenth Avenue.
