What would possess her to throw the necklace? A necklace like that must have been expensive as hell.
“What are you looking at?” she barks.
A smile tugs at my lips.
Spicy … I like it.
But she doesn’t know who she’s talking to.
“Just admiring your rage,” I respond.
She sucks in a breath. “Oh.”
She sounds surprised.
I swirl my glass around and take another sip, while she stares out across the city with me.
“Is there a particular reason you threw those? I’d love to hear it.”
“It means nothing to me. It’s just a goddamn necklace,” she replies, hatred seeping into her voice.
My brow rises. “The man who gave it to you was not a man worthy of your attention.”
She sucks in her breath and looks at me like I just took a peek into her life. I can’t help but wonder where this man is who allowed her to so casually throw away her love for him. It must not mean a lot to him.
“He’s a goddamn prick,” she says. “And I’m so fucking done with him.”
Tears well up in her eyes, but she’s strong enough to keep them at bay.
I smile. “I like that attitude. If a man doesn’t see your value, he means as much as the pearls you just threw away. Because to me, judging from this one second since we’ve met, your value seems priceless.”
My hand lifts to brush away the single tear that rollsdown her cheek. Her chest rises and falls, her cheeks flushing with heat from the soft attention of my thumb.
“I ...” She steps back. “I have to go back.”
She takes a few more steps back, and I clear my throat.
“If you’re frightened of whoever gave you those pearls, come find me.” I take another sip of my drink.
Her lips shudder. And then she runs off, back inside, through the crowd until she disappears from my sight. But my God, did she leave an impression, just by looking at me with those gorgeous ocean eyes. Those pretty red lips practically begged to be kissed by a man who wouldn’t take her love for granted.
I sigh out loud when my phone begins to vibrate, and I pick it up. “Yeah?”
“Lucio just entered the building, two guards flanking him. Do you want me to take the shot?” Franco, my second-in-command, asks.
“No,” I reply. “You know I want him to pay. Blood isn’t going to be enough. Death is an easy way out for a fucker like this. Follow him inside, and let me know when he reaches the safe room. I’ll be there, and wewillmake the fucking deal.” I end the conversation, lower my phone, and march off, tucking it into my pocket again.
Everywhere around me, people are dancing, oblivious to the deal about to go down between two rival families, a deal stained by blood. I head straight for the bar to order another bourbon while I scan Club Triton, looking for Lucio. Within a minute or two, I spot him zigzagging through the crowdwith his two henchmen by his side, headed straight toward the room we agreed to meet in. But his henchmen are carrying guns. That wasn’t the agreement we had.
Goddammit.
I rub my chin.
“Here you go, sir,” the bartender says.
I swiftly pick up my drink, take another sip, and march off. I fish my phone from my pocket and call my second-in-command. “Plans have changed. Bring me more guns.”
“On my way, sir.”
