Page 29 of Under His Protection

“Just running to the bathroom,” she explained with a sweet smile just for me.

“I’ll be waiting for you.” I watched her until she disappeared from sight through the doorway. Once she was gone, I exhaled long and hard.

“Damn. What a fine piece of ass,” Leo, a high-ranking capo from another family, said.

I shot him a hard look. “She’s not. Not a piece of ass.”

Nina was my old friend’s daughter, and I hated to hear anyone belittle her as easy pussy, dime a dozen and nothing special.

“Oh. It’s serious, then?” Leo asked, taking Nina’s absence as a break from whatever business we’d been talking about. “You and her?” He sipped his drink. “Hell, it’s only been twenty years since Grace died.”

“Thirty,” I corrected, missing Nina already. Leo wouldn’t be talking about my dead first wife if she were here, and I didn’t like going down memory lane that far.

“And here I thought it’d be you and Vanessa pairing up,” Leo teased with a knowing look.

“No.” I said it firmer than I intended to, but I couldn’t restrain from blurting out the instant reply to that line. “I’ve made it more than clear that I’m not interested in anything with Vanessa. Nor her father.”

Leo nodded. “Nothing with the Giovannis at all.”

“That’s correct.”

How many times will I need to tell them? Stefan had always been a talker, loud and obnoxious, but no matter how much he spouted bullshit about having Constella backing, I’d reject it all.

I fell back into talking about business, but unlike the pre-dinner mingling hour, this post-dinner session of talking and drinking felt lonely. I wanted Nina back at my side, and I realized with another glance at my watch that she’d been gone for quite a while. If she wanted a breath of fresh air outside, whatever. Guards waited at the doors, and they would protect her. No MC biker would dare come to Escott’s, but I’d made it clear to all the Constella men that Nina was under my protection.

“Excuse me.” I left the dining room and sought her out, curious whether it had all been too much for her. I struggled between wanting her and telling myself that I shouldn’t, and I imagined she felt the same.

“Nina?” I called out for her as I walked through the room and strode down the hallways to reach where the restrooms were. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight I found.

Nina, pressed against the wall. One man with his hand over her mouth, silencing her as his friend groped her, yanking her dress down.

They were servers, men who’d waited on us in the private dining room. I didn’t know what made them so deluded to act on their lust for her as she walked alone to the restrooms. I didn’t care, either. Rabid rage swarmed through me. My blood pressure skyrocketed. My pulse raced. Fisting my hands, I hurried closer to free her and make these stupid bastards pay for even thinking about touching her.

Romeo appeared, though. He’d arrived too late for the dinner but had just begun to make his rounds with the men as they drank and talked business.

He strode toward the men faster than I could reach them.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” he roared, yanking them off her.

She staggered back against the wall, slinking out of reach. Her wide-open eyes conveyed the depth of her fear. Trembling lips, pale face, and hunching over, she was the picture of a terrified woman.

Anger rallied higher. My need to hurt them grew and grew. I wanted to comfort her, but I couldn’t be any good at that while these men lived and breathed.

“Take her home,” I ordered my son. Two Constella guards rushed in, likely nearby because both of us were here.

Romeo, panting hard, turned back to see me. Then he looked at Nina, shrinking back against the wall.

“Take her home,” I ordered as the soldiers grabbed both of the waiters.

Romeo shook his head. “I can?—”

“You can take Nina home. Now.” I spared her a glance, not meaning to glare at her with this feral fury. As I handed another soldier my jacket, I let the heat of my rage and possessiveness over her keep me warm.

She wasn’t mine. Not really. It was only supposed to be fake. The idea of these assholes pawing at her guaranteed that they’d die a slow, painful death at my hands, though. And the faster I did that, the sooner I could comfort her and make sure she wouldn’t be too scarred from the trauma of this evening.

“Go,” I ordered.

“Dante.” She stepped toward me, perhaps even more frightened with the rage I couldn’t hold back. “I didn’t?—”

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