Page 3 of Vicious Union

He glances at me. “Man, we’re talking here.”

“I know. I’m not blind. But I want to talk to this woman, so if you could leave.”

“Dude, I’m not leaving.”

The woman looks between us with a clear excitement in her eyes. “Are you going to fight over me? Because if you are, I’ll gladly watch.”

I step in front of the man. “Do I know you?” I ask her.

She blinks, her pouty lips parting in surprise. “I’m not sure. I don’t come here often.” She flings her hair over her shoulder in what’s clearly an attempt to be sexy, but it only comes across as fake to me.

“No, I know you from somewhere.” Then it dawns on me. “You were at Massimo and Ophelia’s wedding. You’re the daughter of … Francesco Russo, aren’t you?”

Her eyes widen, and for a second, I see her slight panic before she smooths out her expression. “I have no idea who you’re talking about. I’m nobody. Just a girl at a club looking to have some fun. So, if you’re not going to provide me with any fun, how about you get out of my way and let me talk to John.”

I frown. “John?”

“The man I was talking to.” She points behind me. When I turn around to look, I spot John talking to another woman. And when I turn back to her, I notice she’s quickly walking away from me. “Hold on.” I run up to her, grabbing her arm.

She gasps. “How dare you touch me.”

“You just said you were a nobody. I’m a somebody in this city. I can touch you all I want.”

“Ugh, fine.” She wrenches away from me. “Fine. I am Francesco’s daughter, happy?”

“What’s your name?”

She crosses her arms and looks at me suspiciously. “I don’t have to tell you that.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“No,” she says, shrugging. “Am I supposed to?”

“I’m Emilio De Luca.”

Her eyes widen again.

“So, you do know who I am,” I say. “And I know your father. So, let me ask you this: what is the daughter of a well-known mobster doing at a club all by herself? Does your father know you’re here?”

She scoffs. “Of course, he knows I’m here.”

“Really? Because I can give him a call and find out.”

Her shoulders deflate slightly. “You don’t have to do that. I’m an adult. I’m twenty-one now. I’m more than capable of going to the club by myself.”

“He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

She glances at the exit right before she takes off running.

“Shit,” I mutter and run after her.

It doesn’t take me long to catch her. She’s in heels after all, though I am slightly impressed she could run as fast as she did in them. But I’m even more annoyed with her than before.

I grab her arm once we’re out of the club. “Slow down.”

“Why does it matter what I do?” she asks, ripping her arm out of my grip. “Did my father send you to spy on me?”

“No. I just saw you in there, but I have to say, as a Mafia daughter, you should be more careful.”

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