Page 1 of Claimed By the Don

Chapter ONE

Ginetta

The music throbs through me, pulsing in time with the lights flashing blue and purple across the club. I tug at the hem of my red dress, wondering for the hundredth time tonight if it's too short, too tight. But Natalie insisted the dress was made for my curves. "If you got it, flaunt it," she said with an authoritative snap. And well, I guess I do ‘got’ it, based on all the greedy male eyes following my every move as I weave through the gyrating bodies packed onto the dance floor.

I knew I shouldn't have let Natalie talk me into coming to Indigo tonight. I have a mountain of reading to get through before Monday's art history seminar, and clubbing has never really been my scene. I'm much more comfortable curled up with a good book than shaking my ass in a room full of strangers. But as usual, Natalie wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Come on Gin, live a little!" she cajoled, already rummaging through my closet for the skimpiest dress she could find. "When was the last time you had some fun? Loosened up? Maybe even got a little wild with a hot guy?"

I could feel my cheeks heating at that, a mix of embarrassment and secret longing. It has been a long time since I've gotten any action. Grad school barely leaves time for sleep and food, let alone dating. And if I'm being honest, I've always struggled with confidence when it comes to guys. Growing up as the curvy girl, I got used to being overlooked, dismissed as just a pretty face atop a body deemed too voluptuous to be truly desirable. Sure, I turn heads - but rarely the right heads, the ones belonging to men interested in more than a quick hookup with the rounded chick.

So, no, I'm not exactly the girl looking to "get a little wild" with some random dude at a club. But maybe Natalie is right. Maybe it is time I get out of my comfort zone, let my hair down for once. Stop being so damn self-conscious and dare to feel sexy, desirable. At the very least, a night of dancing will provide a much-needed study break.

I spot Natalie by the bar, her lithe body draped over some beefcake in a tight black T-shirt. No surprise there - that girl is a certified man-eater. But hey, more power to her. I love that she owns her sexuality, never makes apologies for going after exactly who and what she wants.

Natalie sees me and waves me over, giggling as Beefcake nuzzles her neck. I start to make my way through the throng of sweaty, undulating bodies. Suddenly, a strange sensation prickles my skin - the unmistakable feeling of eyes on me. I glance around, my flesh erupting in goosebumps despite the club's heat.

That's when I see him.

He's sitting on one of the low couches ringing the VIP section, partially cloaked in shadow. But even in the dim light, his sheer masculine beauty hits me like a punch to the gut. Ink-black hair, chiseled features, full lips curved in a faint smirk. And his eyes...God, those eyes. They pierce right through me, dark and intense, a blatant invitation. The way he's sprawled out, powerful body on arrogant display in an impeccably cut black suit, he looks like the very definition of an alpha male. Confident. In control.

Dangerous.

A shiver runs through me, hot and cold all at once. I've never had a man look at me like that, like he wants to devour me whole. Like he sees right past my prim exterior to the sensual woman hiding underneath. It's thrilling...and absolutely terrifying.

Unnerved, I tear my gaze away and push forward until I'm stumbling into Natalie's orbit. She untangles herself from Beefcake and wraps me in a tipsy hug, squealing about how hot I look. I try to return her compliment, mustering a smile, but my voice sounds reedy and thin. I can still feel the weight of that intense stare raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

"Shots!" Natalie declares, signaling to the bartender with the confidence of someone who's never been denied a drink in her life. Moments later, amber liquid is being pressed into my hand. I knock it back without hesitation, wincing at the burn. I'm not much of a drinker but I desperately need something to take the edge off, quiet the swarm of butterflies in my stomach.

The liquor hitting my bloodstream makes me brave enough to chance another peek towards the VIP area. My breath catches. Mr. Tall, Dark and Tempting is gone, leaving an empty couch in his wake. I feel an odd mixture of relief and disappointment.

"You okay, babe?" Natalie touches my arm, her brow creasing with concern. "You seem flustered."

I quickly smooth my expression into something resembling chill. "I'm good," I assure her, forcing a bright smile. "Just need a minute to adjust, I guess. It's so loud in here."

"Tell me about it! I can barely hear myself think." She gasps suddenly and grabs my elbow. "Ooh, I love this song! Let's dance!"

Natalie begins tugging me towards the packed dance floor. Panic seizes my chest. I can't go out there, not feeling so off-kilter. I'll be too stiff, too awkward. I picture myself bumbling around like a baby giraffe next to Natalie's sinuous grace.

"You go," I demur, extracting my arm. "I'm gonna hunt down a bathroom. Be right back!"

Before Nat can protest, I'm slipping into the throng, letting the sea of bodies swallow me whole as I move against the current. My eyes scan the perimeter until they snag on a shimmering beaded curtain in the far corner emblazoned with a neon sign: VIP ONLY. I make a beeline for it. I just need a few minutes to collect myself, get my head on straight. And what better place than an exclusive lounge sure to be blessedly uncrowded?

I push through the curtain, the beads cool and smooth against my flushed skin. As I suspected, the small room is empty and quiet, insulated from the raging club on the other side. I exhale, my shoulders releasing their tension as blessed silence envelopes me.

Sinking onto the plush blue couch, I tip my head back and close my eyes.

Just breathe, girl. You're fine. You're in control. No matter how shaken that stranger's searing gaze left you. He was probably just bored and looking for a distraction. Men that gorgeous don't go for women like you unless they're hoping to scratch a very specific itch. Nothing more.

The self-directed pep talk eases the storm churning in my stomach. I blow out another long breath and open my eyes...

Just as the beaded curtain parts and he strides through.

The man from the VIP couch. Up close, he's even more striking - a towering wall of hard muscle and raw sensuality wrapped in a few thousand dollars' worth of Italian wool. His energy swirls around me, dark and intense, crackling against my skin. My tongue sticks to the roof of my suddenly dry mouth.

"Well, well," he drawls, voice a low rasp. Goosebumps pebble my flesh. "Looks like I found the best spot in the house."

That smirk is back, a roguish tilt of full lips that invites all manner of sin. His midnight eyes drift over me, hot and assessing. My stomach does a giddy flip as I see open appreciation flare in those dark depths, quickly replaced by deepening hunger. He likes what he sees, at least if the way his pupils dilate is any indication.

---