Page 36 of Unhinged Little Angel

Dante turns a snarl on the man at the same time I reach him, wrapping my fist around the collar of his shirt and yanking him back roughly. The man yelps, barely audible over the music, and Dante blinks in surprise. Like he’s not used to being able to count on anyone. Like he can’t believe I want to spend my night making sure no one touches him so he can focus on the thing he loves, the reason he’s on that stage to begin with. Dance.

“The ‘no touching’ signs aren’t there for decoration,” I growl in the man’s ear. “And I’d hate for something terrible to happen to you if you were to ignore them and make the mistake of touching Dante Moretti.”

“Mor—” He swallows hard. “I didn’t know.”

“Now you do,” I say coolly, and, just like the last one, he scurries off like the spineless mouse he is, disappearing into the crowd as I turn my attention back to my husband.

His eyes are on me again, still down on all fours, somehow managing to look graceful even on his hands and knees. He’s a goddamn wet dream in those fishnet stockings, the lights dancing over his skin, that lace thong delicate enough to tear apart with my teeth if I wanted to. I’m expecting to see frustration, maybe rage in his expression. I can hear the tongue lashing he gave me a week ago still echoing in my ears, the words “I can take care of myself” hanging between us. But he doesn’t look pissed, he looks… confused. His lips soften and I want to drag him right to the edge of the stage, shove my tongue into his hot, sweet mouth, and tell him that he can uncurl his fists and lower his shields.

I’m here to protect him now.

He rises to his feet again in a fluid movement that I can’t take my eyes off of. Bills litter the stage at his feet, but over and over again his eyes come back to me as he dances, like he can’t lookanywhere else even when he tries. A greedy, possessive feeling beats like a drum inside my chest. I lose track of time watching him dance, memorizing the way his muscles move and salivating for the beads of sweat that glisten on his bare skin.

When his stage time ends, he stoops to gather up the cash cluttering the stage. Most of the crowd moves away, ready to refill their drinks or take a piss before the next dancer arrives, but I stay close, keeping an eye out for anyone whose attention is lingering too long, anyone who looks suspicious enough to be involved with Don.

Dante kneels down and crooks his finger, beckoning me to lean closer. Heat radiates and underneath the faint scent of cigarettes, I can still smell my expensive bodywash on his skin from last night. My cock hardens and I grip the edge of the stage to keep myself from giving in to the urge to drag him into my arms and put my greedy hands all over him while he’s working.

“Meet me upstairs in ten minutes,” he says, then he winks, stands up, and struts off stage, leaving me with my mouth hanging open and my cock hardening rapidly.

He might just want to tell me off for interfering with his customers, but he usually prefers an audience when he’s chewing me out, so I don’t think that’s it. I adjust my tie and back away from the stage, a grin tugging at the corners of my lips as I turn and head for my usual table where I know Luca has been sitting for the last half hour.

“How did things go today? Did he give you much trouble?” I ask when I reach him.

“He’s feisty,” he says with a chuckle.

With Dante that could mean a lot of things, from giving Luca a hard time to bodily harm. But I don’t see any visible injuries, so I’m guessing my Angioletto behaved himself.

“He is,” I agree, not bothering to suppress my grin. “You can take off for the night. I’ve got him from here.”

Luca nods and moves to stand, then hesitates. “There was just one thing. He wanted to tell you himself, but…”

“What?” I bark, my heart rate spiking instantly.

“Nothing major.” Luca puts his hands up and takes a step back, realizing a second too late that there’s a chair behind him. It topples and he swallows hard.

“Relax,” I say, letting out a breath. “What happened?”

“We went by his apartment to get his clothes and stuff, and someone had broken in again. They trashed the place and left photos of him, like surveillance photos. He said they were all older, from the past few weeks, and that the break-in probably happened while you guys were in Los Vespar. But I figured you’d want to know anyway.”

I want to fucking end whoever’s been following Dante and trying to intimidate him. I want him to be right, for my name alone to be enough to make these pieces of shit turn tail and run, but I’m not as optimistic about that as he is.

I nod and pat Luca on the shoulder.

“Thanks. Now go. Get some sleep, get laid, whatever you do to recharge. I’ll see you in the morning at my place again.”

“You got it, Uncle Sal.”

There’s nothing I can do about the break-in or the pictures tonight, and I already have Sparrow digging into Don, so I’m not going to dwell on it right now. I take another breath, shake the tension out of my shoulders, and let it go for now.

Luca disappears into the crowd, and I make my way towards the stairs that lead to the private rooms on the second floor. Does my little angel want to fight, or does he want to fuck? I can’t wait to find out.

Chapter 16

DANTE

I don’t know what I was thinking telling Salvatore to meet me upstairs, except that I feel like I’m spinning and for some reason he’s the only still point.

“I’m taking my thirty before I start picking up tables,” I call out to no one in particular after I put my red corset back on and apply a fresh coat of lipstick in the same shade of crimson.

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