Page 94 of Heart of a Villain

Mo quietly stared down the hallway. Sayeda, heart suddenly in her throat, took her time looking, but she already knew what she would find.

Paoli stood at the end of the checkered hallway.

Suddenly, gunshots, clear and distinct, sounded from the bottom level. Screams followed.

Mo, eyes narrowed, smiled. “If that DJ booth keeps playing, this is like nostalgia for me.” She tipped her chin at Paoli. “Who is that?”

“Paoli,” Sayeda said.

“So then, the one behind us must be Novi.”

When Sayeda heard Novi’s distinctive high-pitched, maniacal giggle, all the blood rushed from her body. Mo, on the other hand, looked so calm and levelheaded that there was no way she knew who either of these men was. Novi was a problem for Adrían. Novi would be a problem for Giorgio. Mo was a badass, but Novi was barely human, and Paoli was an even darker mystery.

It wasn’t clear what Paoli was capable of.

It was possible he used guns. It was equally possible that he didn’t. Over the years, he’d gotten twice as large, his muscles swelling beneath his T-shirt.

Sayeda glanced at Mo.

In Mo’s eyes, instead of concern, she saw a desire to rise to the challenge. To be married to a man with Giorgio’s presence couldn’t have been simple, but the way Mo looked, she wondered whether Mo might have been the only woman in the world capable of holding the designation.

She glanced over her shoulder.

Paoli made her heart beat in her trachea, but Novi nearly caused her to lose all her faculties. The man was a walking contrast, beauty and danger wrapped in white like a fallen angel who forgot that he fell.

“Gio my Gio?” Mo said, her voice carrying through the air. “Paoli and Novi are here. We’re in a hallway next to the bathroom. It’s got a checkered floor. I’m going to have to take Novi. Seda, can you hold off Paoli until backup arises?”

Regardless of her fear and uncertainty, Sayeda nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. Gio, my Gio? I love you. I love you and Aleksi forever.”

In that single sentence, she understood. Mo knew what she was up against; she was just that damn fearless.

Mo positioned herself to where their backs touched. Sayeda, mouth dry, stared at Paoli, who was smiling as if they were old friends who’d run into each other after a decade.

Paoli raised both hands. “No need to worry about me,” he insisted. “I don’t like to get involved when Novi’s feeding.”

“Hello, my sweet,” Novi said in that same maniacal, high-pitched voice that didn’t match the man it came from. “Want to play?”

Mo retrieved a pair of handles from underneath her dress. With a flick of her wrists, blades sprung from the handles. Although Mo and Ari were younger than her and Ayesha, though only by months, she wanted to be like Mo when she grew up.

Novi approached.

Mo spun the three-pronged blades, and when Novi struck, she dodged the strike with a simple maneuver. Sayeda kept one eye on the fight and the other on Paoli—it was another maddening thing about him. No one knew what he could do, when he would do it, and what kind of damage it would do.

Novi danced when he fought.

Yet, so did Mo.

The duo moved in concert, morbidly beautiful, dodging and striking, ducking backing away. Novi had a smile on his face, but to her surprise, so did Mo.

Then Novi’s smile grew wider.

He went after Mo with quicker attacks, and Mo parried each one—in stiletto heels. On one attack, she knocked Novi’s hand to the side, and the tip of her blade slid the button off the pastel blue undershirt beneath his white suit.

And Novi giggled.

If that wasn’t enough, he hopped in place.

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