Page 2 of A Virgin for the Mafia Daddy

For a moment, I debate asking him if he knows where my sister might be. Afterall, there can’t be many of us who are old enough to enter a club who choose the pink bracelet, right? But then the bouncer steps aside and in a deeply annoyed voice, barks, “Move along.”

Well, okay then.

I might be unlucky, but I’m not stupid. I know when someone isn’t going to be helpful at all. I scoot past him and find a little corner stool at the bar, sliding into the chair there.

My eyes scan the busy club, shoulder to shoulder with people before they land on the two bartenders, one man, one woman, busy fulfilling drink orders.

Bartenders. They see everyone who passes through here. Even though I’m pretty sure my sister wouldn’t have had a drink tonight, they might have seen something. Seen where she went. John mentioned someone named Cole in his text message to me, so I at least have a lead.

The woman bartender comes up to me, slapping a coaster down. “What can I get you?”

The black bracelet on her wrist catches the light. What does black mean again?

“Ummm, a Coke?”

Her eyes drift briefly down to my pink bracelet and surprisingly, I’m not met with any judgment. She just gives me a nod and grabs a glass from below the bar, filling it with ice.

“Did you happen to see my sister in here earlier, by chance?” I ask her as she fills my glass with soda from that little gun-nozzle thing.

She looks up at me through thick, webbed lashes as the cup fills with carbonated soda. “We get a lot of people here each night.”

That’s no exaggeration. This place is packed. The only reason I managed to get this seat at the bar is because everyone else is on their feet on the dance floor or in the weird private booths that look more like beds. “Um, well, she looks a lot like me. And she’d be wearing a pink bracelet, too.”

The bartender’s eyebrows lift as she gently places the glass of soda on the coaster for me. “Well, that does narrow it down.”

“I was told she’s with someone named Cole?”

The color drains from her face in an instant. Then, her gaze drifts above me, over my shoulder.

“I’ve got this, Lila,” a gruff voice behind me says.

I meaty hand takes hold of the edge of my stool and with a tug, swivels it, turning me a hundred and eighty degrees toward the voice.

Hot. Damn.

I’m not only face to face with the voice that oozes sex, but the man in front of me is terrifyingly beautiful. Dark stubble peppers a jaw so square that geometry professors should study it. Sharp, brown eyes that are so dark they glitter like onyx tick down to meet mine. He towers over me, masculine and powerful. He even smells manly, if that’s possible. Like the woods in the middle of winter.

Cold and fresh and crisp.

An expensive looking suit jacket clings to his wide, broad shoulders and despite the fact that it looks like it’s been tailored perfectly to his body, I don’t doubt that he could tear the clothes from his body simply by flexing his muscles, Hulk-style.

My pulse goes haywire, erratic and fast. He is fully responsible for the quickening beat of my eighteen-year-old virgin pink bracelet wearing heart. My skin beneath the tank top I wear grows dewy with sweat and I ignore the little trickle of heat between my legs.

“Are you Cole?” I ask, managing to find my voice.

“Hardly,” he snorts, his gaze raking down my body and landing briefly on my chest.

I look down, catching sight of a single bead of sweat dripping down my cleavage.

“I’m Cain Romero,” he says as if that name should mean something to me. Then his eyes remain zeroed in on my sweaty boobs. “Cole’s brother,” he clarifies when my expression remains blank.

I cross my arms, covering myself from his gaze, which I hate to admit is doing things to me. Making my mind wander. Making me want this jerk of a weirdo even though I shouldn’t. Not at all. “Great,” I snap. “Then you should know where Cole is.”

His gaze purposely lifts to mine, pinning me against the bar with his onyx eyes. Heat pulses between my legs and I pinch them tighter together, the friction of my jeans doing nothing to satisfy this foreign urge.

“I do. He’s with your sister.”

I inhale sharply and sit taller. “Take me to her.”

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