Page 47 of Beautifully Savage Butterfly

All eyes swivel in our direction as we approach. There’s a subtle lift of Lorenzo’s brow, and Alessio grins with childlike fucking glee as he looks Orion up and down. Sal sputters a cough into a sip of his drink, and Sparrow doesn’t even try to muffle his shocked gasp. Xaviaro is the only one who looks entirely bored by this new development. His eyes flick to our joined hands with indifference before he returns to his usual pastime of absently scanning the surrounding area.

“You didn’t tell any of them I was coming, did you?” Orion mutters quietly.

“It was implied,” I scoff.

“Was it?” Alessio drops his feet from the table and straightens himself up. “Maybe I missed the memo about your new… bodyguard?”

“That definitely must have gotten lost in the interoffice mail, because I didn’t get it either,” Sal says.

“You didn’t tell them about me at all, did you?” I can’t tell whether Orion sounds annoyed or amused.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like we make a habit of sitting around talking about our feelings. Orion and I are together. There, now you all know.” I turn and snag an extra chair from a nearby table.

“You know, you’re right, I’ve always said we should make time to talk about our feelings more,” Alessio says solemnly.

“I’m feeling like I need a drink,” Lorenzo mutters.

Right on cue, Dante saunters over. He’s dressed in a pair of fishnet stockings and red booty shorts tonight, and nothing else. A silver barbell in each of his nipples and a third through his belly button all glint under the glow of the club lights.

“I heard drinks. What do you thirsty boys need?” He puts a hand on the back of Alessio’s chair while he takes our drink orders, and I notice Sal’s gaze lingering on it the whole time.

“I’ll take another too,” Salvatore says, holding up his now empty glass.

“Nope,” Dante says.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sal glances around the table, like he’s trying to make sure we all heard what he did.

“That’s your third drink already. I’ll bring you water, but that’s all you’re getting.” There’s an unmistakable edge of authority in Dante’s voice that has almost all of us shifting in our seats.

It’s hard to tell in this lighting, but I’m pretty sure Sal is blushing too. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish for a few seconds before finding his voice.

“Are you serious? You’re not going to bring me a drink? I’m not even drunk. Breathalyze me if you want to.”

Dante slides his hand off of Alessio’s chair. He puts both of them on the table between him and Sal, and leans in.

“Fine. It’s not about how many you’ve already had. You cost me five hundred bucks last night when you chased off that guy who got handsy, and I feel like teaching you a lesson. Be glad it’s only your booze that I’m cutting off.” He smirks through the entire threat, then pushes himself upright again, leaving all of us in stunned silence as he saunters away to get everyone else’s drink.

“He scares me,” Alessio admits quietly.

“Me too,” Salvatore agrees, but his voice sounds a hell of a lot more awed than scared if you ask me.

Lorenzo clears his throat. “What are we going to do about Casimir?” Right through the bullshit and straight to the point. That’s why he’s in charge.

“A bullet between the eyes is always effective,” Xaviaro suggests casually.

“Except we don’t actually know what he’s done yet,” I remind him.

Sparrow’s shoulders twitch with a lazy shrug. “If he’s killing people to keep them quiet, you can bet it’s bad.”

“We don’t know Casimir killed Jimmy,” Orion points out.

“And it’s not just about a fair punishment or not,” Enzo adds. “If we don’t know what he’s up to, killing him might just mean we’re taking out a middleman.”

“Is there any other information we can dig up on him digitally? You got the bank records; you can’t get anything else?” I ask Sparrow.

“I’ve tried, but it’s beyond my skill level. His emails are encrypted, his cybersecurity is top notch. Whatever he’s doing, he’s covering his ass.”

The sound of another throat clearing draws everyone’s attention. Dante is back with a tray of drinks. His head is held high, but a glint of nerves in his eyes piques my interest.

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