Page 125 of Lovely Venom

Take that away from her though?

It irritates the hell out of her.

That night, I slip into a dimly lit corner booth at Black Velvet and scan the room as Chantel performs.

A few of the regular patrons are here, but their interest extends to any woman in the club who might give them the time of day.

To my eternal annoyance, the Greeks seem to be multiplying. In addition to the two regulars who hang around Chantel’s friend, Ares and his crew also show up.

Ares hasn’t ever had a vested interest in this club or any of the dancers, so I know this is one of his games. Now that he’s seen me with Chantel, he’s trying to figure out how he can meddle in the situation.

He confirms as much when he strolls over, looking far too pleased with himself.

“It’s an interesting mating ritual you Vitales have,” he remarks. “Do you all plan to stalk your wives before you marry them?”

“You’re one to talk.”

“I have the decency to stalk in plain sight,” he muses. “But here you are hiding in the back corner. Strange, considering I heard you announced your engagement publicly just last night. Trouble in paradise already?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a face only a mother could love?”

“That’s not what your sister said.” He smirks.

“Fortunately, she seems to have recovered from that temporary lapse in judgment.”

“Yes, well, it appears you may have the same problem with Miss St. James. She’s flighty, that one.”

My jaw tightens, but giving him a reaction will only encourage him.

“If you’re in the market for a wife, I have a few charming sisters and plenty of eligible cousins,” Ares volunteers. “An alliance might be beneficial, now that your golden goose has signed a deal with us.”

“I’d sign my own death certificate before I ever marry a Greek woman.”

Ares’s eyes flash with amusement. “Surely we aren’t that bad.”

“Death has an ending. That kind of suffering does not.”

“So I suppose we’ll be the rivalry that never dies.” He shrugs. “I’m still buzzing from my last victory, but I’m always up for another competition. In fact, I was thinking just today how nice Chantel would look at the altar with one of my men.”

“Send any of them near her, and I’ll deliver them back to you in pieces.”

“You Vitales are so possessive of your toys.” He huffs out a laugh. “I guess I’ll just say…may the best man win.”

By the time he’s across the room, I’ve already come up with ten different ways to murder him. It would be a temporary satisfaction, because I know the bastard would die with a smile on his face simply for getting a rise out of me.

I stay at the club until I know Chantel’s safely on her way home. Then I follow Bruno to her house and sit in my car while I return some calls.

Unsurprisingly, Marco’s disappearance has been making the rounds through our social circles. Given his colossal fuck-ups and the company’s already shaken investors, speculation is rife. His clients have been calling me, asking if they should jump ship. While I could capitalize on this, I won’t. I have no desire to destroy everything Marco’s father spent decades building.

I’ve already spoken with him. Tomorrow afternoon, he’ll announce Marco’s departure from the company and begin damage control. He doesn’t know where his son is, but more than anything, he sounded relieved.

Once I’m finished handling that headache, I call the manager at Eden to check in. There’s nothing emergent that needs my attention, but it gives me a reason to ignore Chantel when I enter the house.

She’s in the kitchen drinking a glass of water, and she lingers there while I continue my conversation. I draw it out with unnecessary questions about reports and upcoming events until she walks down the hall and closes her door for the night.

For the rest of the week, we fall into a similar pattern. I’m present every evening, providing her dinner, protection—and solitude.

I don’t engage her in conversation, and I spend my time working from her sofa when I’m not sleeping on it.