Page 7 of Lucky

Ignite- it’s not just any club; it’s a sanctuary. A place where the rules are simple but absolute: no violence, no vendettas, no bloodshed. It’s neutral ground, a sacred space where even enemies can coexist without fear of harm. If you walk through those doors, you’re under the Gatti family’s vow of protection. And despite whatever enmity flows between my family and the Gattis in the moment, I know I won’t have to worry about retribution in that safe place reserved on sacred ground.

Marco, of course, doesn’t want me to go.

“I advise against you leaving the house tonight,” he says, his voice low and firm, arms crossed like a brick wall, as though I can’t get through him.

“Watch me,” I shoot back, arms mirroring his, refusing to back down.

“This isn’t a game, Jacklyn. You’re not going anywhere without me.”

“I don’t need a chaperone, Marco. I need some air. You can’t dictate my every move.”

He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair, his frustration clear. “It’s not safe. You know that. There are men out there just waiting to take a shot at you. Jack would kill me if something happened to you.”

“I’m supposed to just stop living?” I interrupt him, my voice rising. “You don’t get to make these decisions for me, Marco.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he might explode. Instead, he turns away, muttering something under his breath about my recklessness.

He doesn’t get it. He never has. Marco thinks love is control, that protecting me means caging me. And while I know his feelings are genuine, they’re not enough. They never will be.

I smooth the fabric of my dress and fasten the clasp of my necklace, giving myself a final once over in the mirror as he walks out of the room. I know there’s no way he won’t drive me to the club, but that’s all good and well. He can wait in the car while I go inside.

When I arrive at Ignite,the music hits me first—a pulsing rhythm that vibrates through the floor and into my chest. The air is electric, charged with a kind of freedom I haven’t felt in months.

The crowd parts as I move through the room, my presence drawing attention despite my attempts to blend in. To everyone here, I’m the Vicci heiress, unseen and unheard, sitting quietly in the background as my brother runs our empire. People nod respectfully, some offering smiles, but I ignore them, heading straight for the bar. I need a drink, something to dull the bitter edge of Marco’s voice in my head and the tension coiling in my chest.

Igniteis everything I needed it to be tonight. A place to disappear, to let go, to pretend that the world outside doesn’t exist. For a while, I just sit at the bar, sipping my drink and watching the crowd. There’s laughter, dancing, a kind of joy that feels both foreign and bittersweet, the atmosphere electrifying as bodies sway to the beat of a different drum.

But even in this sanctuary, I can’t shake the feeling of being watched. My eyes skate around the room, looking for the source of my discomfort as a rod of fire licks down my spine. My gaze roams through the crowd three times before I see him. The devil himself, and the last person I expect to see. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on me with a mix of curiosity and excitement is Lucky Gatti.

I take a long sip of my drink, the amber liquid burning its way down, leaving a warmth that doesn’t quite reach the chill spreading in my chest. I glance over at him, a subtle tilt of my head, a silent acknowledgment of his presence. It's enough for him to notice—enough to make his lips curve into that practiced smile. The kind that never quite reaches his eyes, but is charming enough to make the ladies swoon.

His gaze holds mine, unwavering. The intensity of it feels like a weight, pressing into me, coaxing a reaction that I’m not ready to give. His dark eyes glimmer in the dim, throbbing lights of the club, and even in the haze of neon and shadow, I can feel the calculated nature of his attention. The muscles in his jaw tighten as if he's savoring the moment, letting the silence stretch, thick and awkward between us.

I shift in my seat, trying to ignore the way his stare makes the back of my neck prickle. The bass from the speakers thunders through the floor, reverberating in my ribs, but it’s not enough to drown out the heat that starts to crawl under my skin.

The silence lingers, suffocating, thick with unspoken tension. My eyes flicker to the dance floor, the crowd thrumming with life, the bass of the music pulsing through the floorboards. And yet, it’s like the air around me has stilled, as if the club, the flashing lights, and the pounding beats are all nothing more than a distant murmur.

I sip my drink, slow and deliberate, keeping my gaze forward, but I can feel his stare. It’s like a weight, crawling over my skin.

I sigh, setting my glass down as he crosses the room to sit on a stool beside me. “Fancy seeing you here.” His lips turn up in a mischievous grin.

“I could say the same thing for you,” I point out.

“I own the place.” He shrugs, as though his words are explanation enough.

The one thing I didn’t count on is running into him here tonight. And I would’ve stayed right away if I’d known that he owns the damn place. I thought for sure, it’s one of their assets and they have people running it for them; never expected that I’d actually run into him.

He’s a perfectly beautiful mess in a white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, the top two buttons undone casually. There’s the faint shadow of a tattoo creeping up the side of his neck, and script stamped on his inner forearm. His black slacks hug him in all the right places; his hair, too, looks like he’s spent a substantial amount of time trying to tame the wild flyaway strands. It’s a look far removed from him in a power suit when we met earlier in the day, but there’s something undeniably sexy about the way everything about him comes together so casually yet so perfectly.

“What brings you toIgnitetonight, Jacklyn?” he asks, from beneath half-lidded eyes.

I smile at the way my name rolls over his tongue like molten lava. By now, he knows who I am, what my name is, but not much more. It’s only a matter of time before he starts asking the hard questions.

“I wanted to unwind somewhere without the possibility of getting shot.”

“Well then, you’ve come to the right place,” he says, indicating to the barkeeper. The young man slides our way and sets down two fresh glasses, filling them with our choice of drink.

The air between us crackles with something unspoken as I ask, “You here every night?”

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