Page 3 of His Ruthless Obsession

And I have a lot to prove tonight.

"More to the left." I direct one of the staff members positioning a velvet lounge chair. "We need clear paths to the dance floor."

My fingers trail along the sleek marble bar top, checking for any imperfections. This job is my stepping stone. One day, I'll run my own place, call my own shots. No more answering to anyone else.

"The ice delivery's late." Oliver, my head bartender, approaches with a worried expression.

"I already called them. They'll be here in twenty." I check my watch. "Start prepping the garnishes."

The staff door opens in the back of the room, and the temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. Nerio Bueti strides in like he owns the place — which he does.

But there is just something about the way confidence rolls off of him. His presence fills the space, demanding attention without saying a word. That sharp gray suit hugs his frame in all the right places, and those eyes...

I force myself to look away, pretending to study my clipboard. I know he's a Bueti, and I've heard the rumors about that crime family. I've heard whispers, seen things that don't add up. But thinking about that is a dangerous road.

Even if danger seems to roll off this man in the most intoxicating way.

"How are we looking?" His voice carries across the room, deep and smooth like aged whiskey.

I lift my chin, meeting his gaze, and I try not to melt under it. Unlike most people, I'm not intimidated. But I also shouldn't be so attracted to my boss. "Everything's on schedule."

He moves closer, and my skin prickles with awareness. "Show me."

I lead him through the space, pointing out the features we've added. "Private booths along this wall, VIP section elevated for optimal views, and-" I stop when I realize he's not looking at the club anymore. He's looking at me.

"You've outdone yourself."

His eyes hold mine, intense and unreadable. The air between us crackles with tension. I know I should step back, maintain professional distance. But something about him pulls at me, like gravity.

But then memories flash through my mind of another man I found irresistible, another one who seemed deadly and dangerous in a way that I liked. Until I was at the receiving end of it.

It shakes me out of whatever trance Nerio had me in.

"Just doing my job," I manage to say, proud that my voice stays steady.

"I better go to my spot." He nods toward the front doors that the bouncers are opening. "Looks like it's time to start."

I nod, hating that I can't seem to stay in control where this man is involved. "I'll filter the people that come up to you."

He touches my arm as he walks away, and the fleeting warmth is enough to make me want to beg for more. "Perfect."

It doesn't take long for the room to fill. The club pulses with energy as Chicago's elite filter through the doors. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across the dance floor while servers weave through the crowd with trays of champagne.

I adjust the sound levels, making sure the music hits that sweet spot between ambient and overwhelming. A flash of movement catches my eye — Nerio greeting a group of sharp-dressed businessmen who were on the approved list near the VIP section.

His presence commands attention, and I'm not the only one who notices. Women pause mid-conversation to watch him pass. But I should know better than to stare at him — or feel jealous that others are.

"Looking good in here." Tiranna appears beside me, stunning in a red dress. "Though I'm not sure if you're monitoring the crowd or just one particular person."

"I'm working." I tear my gaze away from where Nerio's hand rests on some politician's shoulder, his smile calculated and cold.

"Right. Working very hard at not staring."

A commotion near the entrance draws my attention. Two guys arguing over a spilled drink. I start moving in that direction, but one of the bouncers is already handling it.

"Mr. Bueti wants you at the owner's table." One of the security guys appears at my elbow.

My stomach tightens as I cross the floor. Nerio sits with three men I don't recognize, their suits probably worth more than my yearly salary.

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