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I part my lips to once again tell her she’s wrong, but I stop myself.
Why lie?
There’s something so foreign and intoxicating about being looked at the way Alex is looking at me.
Like…I’m his.
Like he’d tear the club apart if anyone put a hand on me.
And that thought sends a reckless shiver through me.
One that Alex immediately notices.
Chapter twenty-two
Alex
It’s only been minutes since Charlotte has been on the dance floor, her body swaying beautifully in a shimmery green dress that inches dangerously up her thighs as the beat of the music echoes around us. Yet each passing second watching her feels like my own personal form of torture.
Because while I’m standing up here on the mezzanine, I have the perfect view of every fucking man in this club leering at her.
I watch as their heads turn, their eyes lingering for far longer than necessary. And I observe the way they contemplate approaching her.
Fortunately, most of them possess a basic instinct for self-preservation. One glance in my direction and they immediately reconsider their foolish notion.
“Not a great feeling, is it?” Leo appears beside me, resting his forearms on the railing.
Reluctantly, I drag my gaze away from Charlotte. “What isn’t?”
He smirks. “Jealousy.” His stare drops to Scarlett dancing below. “That ugly part of you that wants to kill a man every time they get too close to her.”
“It’s fucking miserable,” Eli adds, his eyes never leaving Madeleine. “It’s like I can’t relax until she’s by my side again.”
Mauro nods toward the dance floor, his attention solely on Alina. Same.
Meanwhile, Vin scans the crowd, looking hopeful that a certain mystery redhead might magically appear.
I shake my head. “Do you hear how pathetic you all sound?”
“Oh really?” Leo asks, his obnoxious grin widening. “Then I assume you’re completely fine with the man currently talking to Charlotte?”
My head whips in her direction so fast I’m lucky my neck doesn’t break. Charlotte is smiling politely, but I know her well enough to see what others don’t.
The slight tension in her shoulders.
The way her body curls inward.
The discomfort she’s trying to hide.
Something dark unfurls inside my chest.
My knuckles grip the railing so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if the metal slices my skin. I pinch my eyes closed as red edges into my vision. “Figlio di puttana!” I push off the railing and stride toward the stairs.
“That’s what I thought,” Leo yells out with amusement.
“Vaffanculo!” I shout over my shoulder, my blood boiling to a dangerous level. People move out of my way with fear in their eyes as I descend each step, my eyes laser-focused on Charlotte.
And as I close the distance, something shifts in the room because everyone knows exactly what’s about to happen.
