Page 7 of His Ruthless Claim

"There's our fashion queen." Mikayla slides over, her deep green dress a perfect contrast to the booth's black leather. Idropped Mikayla and Jazz's dresses off on my way to Kendra's and they look incredible. "Thank you so much, Skye."

"Anytime." But my eyes are on Jazz, catching the tension in her shoulders. Mikayla fidgets with her cocktail straw, her usual sunshine dimmed to a worried glance between us.

I settle in, smoothing my dress out. "Spill it, girl. What's got you wound so tight?"

Jazz's perfectly lined lips press together. Her curls are styled in that precise way that means she's been overthinking everything. "Nothing. Everything's fine."

"Please." I signal a waitress who appears instantly. "Dirty martini, extra olives."

Kendra leans forward, shaking her head. "Honey, that nothing is louder than these Versace heels."

"It's Nerio, isn't it?" Mikayla's voice drops to barely above a whisper, even though everyone knows better than to eavesdrop on this booth.

Jazz's fingers still on her glass. The massive diamond on her left hand catches the light, throwing fractals across the table. That ring might as well be a collar, marking her as untouchable - protected and possessed all at once.

Jazz twirls the ring, her dark eyes distant. "It's just... different now. The way people look at me, treat me. Like I'm made of glass they might shatter."

"Or like you might shatter them," Kendra adds, earning a sharp look from Mikayla.

I lean forward, studying the subtle changes in my friend's demeanor. The Jazz I know commands attention, owns every room she walks into. But there's a new edge to her movements, calculated and precise.

Mikayla cocks her head and studies Jazz. "Being with someone in the family changes things."

"Everything." Jazz takes a long sip of her drink. "The other night, I overheard Marco telling the new bartender that breaking a glass near me would be his last mistake. Like I need a warning label."

My martini arrives, and I pluck an olive, considering her words. They remind me of the two guys that were outside my boutique today. The blue-eyed man I saw as I left.

"You love him though." Mikayla's voice carries that touch of innocence she's somehow maintained despite all the shit this city throws at us.

Jazz's expression softens, vulnerability bleeding through her careful mask. "More than makes sense. He's... When we're alone, he's different. Still intense, still Nerio, but..." Her fingers trace the rim of her glass. "Last week, one of his associates made a comment about me. Just something stupid about women in charge. Before I could respond, Nerio had him against the wall. Didn't raise his voice, didn't even mess up his suit. Just said if the man ever questioned my authority again, he'd lose his tongue first, then his business."

"Romantic," Kendra mutters into her cocktail.

"That's the thing." Jazz's laugh holds no humor. "In his world? It was. He doesn't try to cage me or control me. He just... eliminates threats. Like it's as natural as breathing." She shakes her head. "I knew it was like this. I guess after everything that happened with Don Mantione…it's just a little more intense."

I think again of my mystery watcher, how his presence should frighten me but instead sends electricity down my spine. "The family doesn't do anything halfway, do they?"

Jazz huffs out a laugh. Mikayla reaches for her hand. "I'm sure he'll ease off. He was just worried about you."

She shrugs. "I shouldn't even be complaining. I have a man who loves me and wants to protect me." Her eyes light up at that."I guess I just want more of him and less of his world. But it'll be alright."

The energy in The Vault shifts like a current through water. My skin prickles as three soldiers swagger through the entrance, their cheap suits and cocky grins marking them as clearly as a neon sign. Marco's shoulders tense, but he keeps his position, dark eyes tracking their every move.

"Shit." We all look at her. "They are Mantione."

Jazz's manicured nails pause mid-tap on her phone screen. Her other hand slides beneath the table - likely to the small .380 I know Nerio insists she carry. The screen lights up her face as she types, probably alerting her fiancé to our uninvited guests.

"Well, well. Look what the garbage truck dropped off," Kendra mutters, but I squeeze her knee under the table. Now isn't the time for her sharp tongue.

I doubt Nerio wants any Mantione men in his establishment. Not after what happened with Jazz. They kidnapped her after all.

I catalog details with the same precision I use to spot knockoff designer bags. The leader - broad-shouldered with a fresh cut across his jaw - gestures to the bar. His lackeys flank him like trained dogs, their eyes roving the club with predatory interest. One sports a gaudy gold chain that screams new money. The third keeps adjusting his sleeve, probably hiding a weapon.

The regular patrons shift away, conversations dying like snuffed candles. Even the music seems to pulse with added tension.

"Should we..." Mikayla starts, but Jazz cuts her off with a subtle head shake.

"Stay put. Moving draws attention." Jazz's voice carries the quiet authority that makes her exceptional at her job. She tracks the soldiers through lowered lashes while pretending to check her nails. "Besides, this is still Bueti territory. They wouldn't dare."

---