I stand. Adjust my cufflinks.
She came to my club looking for fun.
I'm about to show her she walked straight into a trap.
Vittoria
The champagne bubbles pop against my tongue. Forty minutes in and I'm already feeling that familiar warmth spreading through my chest, loosening something that's been wound tight for a long time.
When did I become such a lightweight?
Amanda throws her head back, laughing at something on her phone. Platinum waves catch the purple VIP lights, and she looks like she belongs here—in this world of bass drops and beautiful people and zero consequences.
"Okay, but look at his profile pic." She shoves her screen in my face. Some guy with abs and a boat. "He literally has a boat emoji in his bio. A boat emoji, V. That's a red flag."
"The boat or the emoji?"
"Both. Men with boats have main character syndrome." She takes another sip. "Also, he's probably compensating for something."
I snort into my glass. God, I missed this. The stupid jokes. The easy laughter.
My gaze drifts to Elio standing at the edge of our booth. Poor bastard. He's supposed to be watching me, but his eyes keep sliding toward Amanda like she's magnetic north. The way his jaw tightens when she laughs. The subtle lean in his posture whenever she moves.
He's so fucked.
The guilt twists in my stomach, mixing uncomfortably with the champagne buzz.
Elio is the only reason I have any semblance of a life outside that compound. Anyone else Pietro assigned would have me on a shorter leash than a show dog. But Elio... Elio is in love with my best friend, which means he does whatever we ask.
Including looking the other way.
Two years without sex. Two whole years of nothing but my own hand and the crushing weight of grief that made the idea of being touched feel impossible. Before that, there were a couple of one-night stands. Quick, anonymous, forgettable.
Elio stood guard outside hotel rooms while I pretended to be someone else for a few hours. Someone without a dead brother. Someone without a curse following her like a shadow.
If Pietro ever found out, Elio would lose more than his job.
Stop thinking about it.
I drain my glass too fast. The bubbles burn going down.
"You okay?" Amanda leans in.
"Perfect." The lie comes easy. "Just thinking."
"Stop that immediately." She refills my glass from the bottle chilling in the ice bucket. "No thinking allowed tonight. That was the deal."
"When did we make that deal?"
"Just now. I'm making it now." She clinks her glass against mine. "To bad decisions and zero regrets."
I drink to that.
The bass vibrates through the leather seat, through my bones. Bodies move on the dance floor below us, all grinding and heat and temporary connections. Everyone here is looking for something. Escape. Pleasure. Someone to make them forget.
What am I looking for?
The question feels dangerous. I push it away.
