Page 2 of Yours

The girl looked up, startled, her wide eyes flicking to mine with a sort of fear I didn’t understand at the time. Marco, on the other hand, turned slowly, his expression morphing into one of amused disbelief as he looked down at me and took me in.

“And you are?” he drawled, his tone so condescending it made my teeth grind.

“Someone who knows a dirtbag when she sees one,” I said, planting a hand on my hip. “Let her go.”

He laughed, low and dismissive, like I was a minor inconvenience at best. His hand slipped off the girl’s ass, but his focus was entirely on me now.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said, spreading his hands in mock innocence. “We were just talking. No harm done.”

“She doesn’t look like she was enjoying the conversation,” I said, holding my ground and lifting my chin. “So maybe you should learn to take a hint.”

The girl slipped away while Marco and I stared each other down, her absence leaving a charged silence between us. Around us, people had started to notice, their curious glances catching like sparks to a tinder fire.

But Marco didn’t seem to care. If anything, he seemed entertained.

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” he said, his smirk widening.

“And you’ve got hands that don’t know how to stay to themselves,” I shot back. “Maybe keep them in your pockets before someone teaches you some manners.”

His smile faltered, his eyes narrowing just slightly, and the air between us felt heavier. But then, just as quickly, his smirk returned, colder this time. It enraged me.

And then he spoke.

“You’re bold, I’ll give you that,” he said, his tone amused. “But you’ve got no idea who you’re messing with, sweetheart.”

And then I stopped thinking entirely and threw what was left of my drink right in his face.

Marco froze, cranberry juice dripping down his jaw and soaking into the pristine white collar of his shirt. For a moment, the club felt quieter, like the music had dipped just slightly in volume, giving the whole room time to register what had just happened.

I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch even a single inch. I just stood there, my now-empty glass still clutched tightly in my hand, my pulse pounding in my ears as Marco blinked, his expression shifting from disbelief to something darker.

The smirk was gone now.

He was silent then, and all I could focus on was the slow clench of his jaw and the deliberate way he wiped his face with one hand and turned back toward me.

“Big mistake,” he said softly, his voice low and cold enough to make the hairs on my arms stand up.

“Kiera!”

Leena’s panicked voice pulled me out of my head. She was suddenly at my side, her hand gripping my arm hard enough to make me wince in pain.

“What?” I asked, glancing at her.

She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze flicked between me and Marco, her face turning white and her expression tightening with something I couldn’t quite place.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice shrill and urgent.

“Stopping this guy from?—”

“Stop,” she cut me off, her nails digging into my arm. “Do you know who he is?”

I blinked at her. “No. Why does it matter?”

Leena let out a short, frustrated breath.

“Marco Benedetti,” she hissed. “As in the Benedetti family. As in one of the most powerful men in the city.”

The blood drained from my face.

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