My fingers tighten around my champagne flute. I'm about to step forward, insert myself between them, when a larger figure materializes behind James.
"The lady told you not to touch her."
James spins around, nearly losing his balance. "Who the hell?—"
"Leave." One word. Final.
Jame's liquid courage evaporates under that stare. He mutters something unintelligible and stumbles away toward the bar.
He is Dmitri Baganov. I know because I saw picture of him the other day when Nico and Dante talked about him.
"Are you alright?"
Vittoria's chin lifts. "I could have handled it myself."
"I know." He doesn't look away from her face. "But you shouldn't have to."
She stares at him for a long moment. Then she extends her hand—not in greeting, but in dismissal.
"I don't need a white knight."
"I'm not offering to be one." He takes her hand, but instead of shaking it, he turns it over and presses his lips to her knuckles.
Vittoria snatches her hand back like she's been burned.
She walks away without looking back, spine straight, shoulders squared.
He watches her go. The expression on his face isn't anger or frustration.
It's fascination.
Oh no.
I recognize that look.
Nico
I find Kristen alone at the bar, and something cold settles in my chest. She's swirling a glass of champagne, watching the crowd.
"Where's Vittoria?" I ask, scanning the room. My sister was supposed to stay with Kristen while I dealt with Pietro.
Kristen sets down her glass. "She went to the bathroom. Some drunk guy named James wouldn't take no for an answer."
My hand clenches around the bar's edge. The wood creaks under my grip. "What?"
"Relax." She places her palm over my fist, and the touch grounds me even as rage burns through my blood. "He's gone. Someone... handled it."
"Someone." I don't like the way she says that. "Who?"
"Dmitri Baganov."
I go still, every muscle locking down as I process. The Bratva heir intervened with my sister. Protected her from some handsy drunk when I wasn't there to do it myself.
"He just... stepped in?" My voice comes out flat. Controlled. The opposite of what I feel.
"James was being aggressive. Dmitri made him leave." Kristen watches my face carefully, reading me the way she always does. "Your sister wasn't happy about it. She walked away the second she realized who he was."
Good. At least Vittoria has sense.
