Page 2 of Courting Danger

The Ultraviolet Room was... a club. I didn’t have enough experience with nightclubs to judge it further than that. The lights were strobing, the music repetitive, and the average age of the people on the dance floor made me feel old.

Caden led me through the pulsing crowd toward a more secluded corner near the back. “It should be just over here. Let me see... ” Mid-sentence, Caden suddenly froze, his hand smacking into my stomach to bring us both to an immediate stop. “Fuck. What’s he doing here?”

Following Caden’s startled gaze, I saw several people sitting around a roped off area in the corner. They were a variety of ages, but the oldest of them couldn’t have been more than thirty. Based on body language, one man was obviously the de facto ‘leader’ of the group.

Mid-twenties, with shoulder length black hair and a smooth olive complexion, he had a youthful smile but the dark eyes of a predator.

An attractive man, my libido could easily admit that much. At first glance, he seemed like a typical upper-class rich boy, with an expensive suit tailored to fit him perfectly and an even more expensive watch sitting on his wrist. However, the silver hoop piercing his eyebrow and the pale scars crisscrossing his knuckles hinted at a dangerous edge hiding underneath the man’s polished exterior.

“What’s wrong? Who is that?” My voice barely carried over the volume of the club’s music, but Caden heard me anyway.

“That’s Alexander Mariano. Technically, he owns the club, but... I wasn’t expecting him to be here. He usually stays on the other side of town.”

“If he owns the club, isn’t that who we should talk to?”

Shaking his head, Caden stepped back until he was completely out of Mariano’s line of sight. “No, that’s not... we should leave.”

Since I hadn’t been that committed to the idea of working for a nightclub, especially not since setting foot in the building and realizing how out of place I was in this environment, I didn’t bother to protest. I turned to follow Caden, but a tickle of instinct on the back of my neck made me pause. I couldn’t immediately tell what caught my attention, but a whisper inside my skull had me reaching for a gun I no longer carried.

Caden tugged at my arm. “What’s up? Come on. We’re leaving.”

Adrenaline pumped through my veins and I felt my eyes dilate as I darted my gaze back and forth to absorb the entire scene at once. “Something’s not right.”

In my peripheral, I noticed Caden’s expression twist with displeasure, obviously about to argue, but at the same moment I was distracted by a figure stepping out of the crowd.

A man, seemingly no different than any other patron in the club, reached inside his jacket with the slow deliberation of someone trying not to be noticed.

I reacted before my conscious mind even registered the sight of a gun.

CHAPTER 3

Alex

On a list of all the nightclubs I owned, The Ultraviolet Room wasn’t my favorite. I usually preferred the Vixen. It had the perfect combination of clientele, rich and very gay.

The Ultraviolet Room, not so much.

Heaving a sigh, I downed the rest of my drink.

If I wanted to go home with someone tonight, I’d probably have to settle. The selection of partners available here was not up to my usual standard.

It had been a long day. The Mariano family may be the head of the Italian mafia, but that didn’t save them from dealing with paperwork. There was so much red tape to manage and information to fabricate in order to blind the eyes of the law.

Since I refused to get involved with my family’s dirtier affairs, the busy work usually fell to me. My father, David Russo, was the head of the Italian mafia, and I was the man’s only child. One day that title would fall to me, but there was no reason to dive into my family’s muck all at once. I preferred to wade in slowly and enjoy my freedom while he could.

After spending the day submitting fake tax forms, I hadn’t felt like driving all the way across town to my preferred club. Instead, I’d headed for the nearest establishment I owned.

I was paying for that moment of laziness now by suffering through subpar company. A brunet man currently occupied my lap. The man was pretty enough, but nothing special.

From the moment I’d stepped through the door, I’d been surrounded by so-called friends. People just powerful enough to feel entitled to my time. I knew my bodyguard more than I knew these people, and I barely remembered the man’s name. These social hyenas, I was lucky if I even remembered what family they came from.

A man sitting on the couch to my right—Harvy? Javier? —kept droning on about something to do with shipping containers. The words washed over me like white noise, and I flagged a waiter down to ask for another drink.

Eventually, a woman sitting on his left—Rachelle? Rebecca? —changed the topic to discuss the upcoming Olympics. This held my attention just long enough for me to decide I had nothing to add to the conversation. I remained silent, smiling and nodding when necessary to feign engagement. Instead, I entertained myself by imagining what I was going to do later to the brunet currently running a hand over my chest.

Maybe a good spanking before fucking him hard.

If the man wanted to act like a coquette, then I would take great pleasure bullying him to tears.

---