Page 96 of Third Degree

Her finger directed my attention to a sight beyond the threshold—lines snaking around multiple blocks, with hundreds, if not thousands of people, eagerly waiting for the chance to step foot into one of the most sought-after nightclubs in San Diego’s Gaslamp Quarter.

“Yup,” I responded, annoyed by the sight.

The more people that packed into the club, the more money they brought, but with that money came problems.

Especially on opening night, there was always a slight breach of our security because the teams were still new. I traveled with one discreet bodyguard, which Julian constantly told me was too little, so with his guards at their VIP table, I felt confident we were going to be safe.

“Wow,” she uttered, the expression of astonishment still etched on her face. “I’m genuinely surprised all these people actually want to come to your club.” In an impulsive move, she grasped my hand and leaned over to place a kiss on my cheek.

“Fair warning, there might be some paparazzi when we arrive,” I cautioned, and instantly, her expression shifted from shock to discontentment. “What’s wrong?” I inquired, sensing her sudden change in mood.

“I despise attention, Elio. I’m not the kind of person who embraces paparazzi with a smile and a nod,” she confessed, her hands clasping together.

“Amore, I have no other choice. The back entrances are all closed for the DJ to begin setting up,” I explained, feeling the urgency to remedy the situation for her.

She averted her eyes, gnawing her lip.

“Look at me,” I murmured, my voice husky with desire as I held her gaze with unwavering intensity. “You are no longer eighteen-year-old Gianna nor Daphne. No, today you are Gianna Daphne Marchetti, my partner.”

My hands caressed her face, tracing the contours of her delicate features, igniting a trail of electric sparks along her skin.

I continued, “You have faced challenges head-on, defying expectations and embracing your true desires. Your journey has sculpted you into an irresistible, confident woman.” Leaning in closer, our breaths mingling, I whispered against her lips, “Tonight, amid the flashbulbs and lingering gazes, remember that you hold the key to your own narrative. We will conquer this together, just like we will get through anything from here forward.”

Her eyes, filled with a potent mixture of appreciation and resolve, met mine. “Thank you, Elio,” she breathed, her voice laced with a newfound sultriness. “I needed that reminder.”

A smoldering smile curved my lips as I captured hers in a searing kiss, igniting a passionate flame that consumed us both. “That’s my girl. Let’s go show them the unstoppable force that is Gianna Daphne Marchetti,” I murmured against her mouth, my voice tinged with desire.

We exited the vehicle, and immediately, the paparazzi were taking our picture.

“It’s the owner, Elio Marchetti!”

“Who is this woman on your arm tonight?”

“You haven’t been photographed with a woman in over a decade.”

The questions came in rapid fire, and I held up my hand so I was blocking our faces as much as I could. I pulled Gianna’s body close to mine as we headed to the club entrance through the sea of people wanting to get in and cameras in our faces.

Gianna offered a soft wave at one point and then looked down until we got to the door.

As soon as we were inside, I could hear her audible sigh of relief over the ambient noises of the club. As we walked through the nightclub, a pulsating wave of modernity washed over us, engulfing our senses in a symphony of sights and sounds. The sleek and contemporary design of this particular club was created to attract more of an upscale clientele.

The VIP section, where I promised Gianna a table, was on the top level. It was meant to be almost like a theater where you look down at the patrons on the dancefloor. Soft ambient lighting cast a seductive glow, enhancing the allure of the space.

The thumping bass reverberated through the massive room, synchronizing with the rhythmic movements on the dancefloor. Even though the club had only just opened, the dancefloor was completely packed.

Adjacent to the VIP section, a discreet office area commanded attention, its glass walls allowing no one to see inside but those inside to see the workings of the club.

Then, there was the elusive basement that held an air of intrigue and secrecy. Where Mafia business found its home in this enigmatic space, shrouded in shadows, mystery, and death. Ricardo’s hope was that our other clubs would provide more of the nitty-gritty in terms of torture and this one would be for the more financial type crimes like those who stole from us.

As we navigated through the club and to the VIP section, the ambience of the nightclub enveloped us. It was hard not to with the music, the atmosphere, the drinks, and the hundreds of people.

We walked through the roped-off section where a bodyguard was on post. I quickly nodded at him, grateful that I had added some soundproof panels up here so that some of the Gambini family members could do business without screaming over the music. Ricardo was the first one to greet us.

“Pleasure seeing you guys here.” He looked over at Gianna. “I am happy that you changed his mind and came with him.”

“Of course. It is a big deal.” She gestured below where the dancefloor was pulsating. “This must be your…” She gestured at the blonde woman in the corner.

“A friend.” Ricardo mischievously smiled. I can’t say that we had the same morals in life.

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