Page 114 of Dance of Ruin

“A true officer and a gentleman,” Nero murmurs, peering into the mouth before him and going in once again.

I grab the gym bag from the hallway and hand Laz a pair of pliers, grabbing garden shears for Roman and myself. We each take one of the guys away from the table, thesnip-snipsound of shears cutting through flesh and bone contrasting with the disgusting dental sounds behind us.

“Hey, speaking of pussy,” Nero grunts. “Roman, where the fuck did you go last night? You had those two blondes all over you and you just dipped out.”

"Seriously," Laz grunts. “You left those poor girls hanging, their mouths still open." Laz grins. “Luckily, I was there to helpfillthose mouths."

Roman scowls. "I was drunk."

"You wereshitfaced," Nero corrects.

Roman shrugs, clipping off another finger from the body he’s squatting down beside. “Just having a good time.”

“Not as good a time as I did after you left," Laz chuckles.

I shake my head, methodically cutting. My thoughts aren’t on Nero or the bloodstains or whatever war he’s clearly fighting within his own house.

They’re on Naomi.

The way she danced. The way she moaned for me, barely hidden by the bass and the lights and her dress as I rammed into her, taking her there on the dancefloor.

The way she came apart, squeezing my cock with her tight little pussy.

I shouldn’t have let it go that far. I shouldn’t have touched her like that, notthere, where people could have seen.

But I’d do it again. Over and over. And fuck anyone who?—

“You were busy last night too, I hear,” Nero says, like he’s reading my mind.

What?

I blink, stopping mid-cut, keeping my head turned away.

Roman chuckles. “Fucking the good Congressman’s daughter?” He grins and shakes his head. “What’s the play there? Film a sex tape and send it to her dad?—”

I slam into him, my forearm against his throat as I pin him to the bullet-riddled wall behind him.

“Thefuckis your fucking problem!” he snarls, shoving me back andalmostthrowing me off him. But I manage to keep my grip and my footing, slamming him back against the wall again.

“Take it easy!” he hisses. “Jesus, I was just making a joke?—"

"What thefuckare you talking about?" I spit.

Roman frowns. His eyes slip past my shoulder to Laz and Nero standing behind me. Then they drag back to me. “Have you…not seen it?”

“Seenwhat?”

“Nico.”

When I glance around, Nero is holding up his phone.

Fuck.

“SCANDAL: Secretary Kim’s Ballerina Daughter Caught In WILD Affair With Barone Mafia Prince!”

On the screen is a photo—Naomi against the club wall, her lips crushed under mine, her leg wrapped around my hip.

There’s another of me carrying her into my building.

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