Page 72 of His Ruthless Obsession

"Get us out of here." I guide Jazz toward the door, keeping my body between her and any potential threats. My men's footsteps echo in perfect sync as we retreat, weapons ready.

The cool night air hits my face as we emerge from the warehouse. Jazz's stride never falters as we make our way to the waiting cars, even though I can feel fine tremors running through her frame.

But she is safe now. She is with me. And I need to make it clear that she is untouchable to the other families.

There's only one way to do that…

29

JAZZ

The bass thrums through the floorboards as I make my rounds through The Vault, clipboard in hand as I check inventory levels. Three months since the drama died down — no more threats, no more problems with the Mantiones — and business has never been better. The dance floor pulses with bodies, VIP booths packed with high-rollers dropping serious cash.

"We're running low on the Macallan 25." Oliver, my head bartender, slides a glass across the bar. "But look what just came in."

I lift the tumbler, breathing in notes of oak and spice. "The Japanese whiskey Nerio ordered?"

"Worth every penny." Oliver grins. "Already sold four bottles tonight."

"Add it to the regular stock list." I make a note, watching the amber liquid catch the light. "And order ten more cases of the Macallan."

"You run a tight ship these days." Nerio's voice sends a shiver down my spine as he materializes beside me, suit jacket draped over one arm.

"Someone has to keep this place profitable." I take a sip of whiskey, savoring the smooth burn. "Your taste in liquor isn't cheap."

His fingers brush my lower back as he leans in. "Neither is my taste in management."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." But I can't help smiling. "The new security system is working perfectly, by the way. Caught some kid trying to sneak in through the service entrance last night."

"Good." His expression hardens for a moment before softening again. "The renovations to the VIP area are finished. Come see."

He guides me up the curved staircase to the exclusive upper level. The space has been transformed with rich leather booths, imported marble tables, and a private bar stocked with rare spirits. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a stunning view of the dance floor below.

"Not bad." I run my hand along the polished bar. "Though I still say the chandelier is overkill."

"You love it." He pulls me close, hands settling on my hips. "Admit it."

"Maybe." I lean into him, breathing in his cologne. "But don't let it go to your head. We still need to discuss the new drink menu and-"

His kiss cuts off my words, deep and possessive. When he pulls back, his eyes gleam with satisfaction. "You work too hard."

"Someone has to." I loop my arms around his neck. "And I'm still changing that ridiculous cocktail name you suggested."

"We'll see about that, little dove." His laugh rumbles against my chest as the music pulses below, a steady heartbeat marking this moment of peace we've carved out for ourselves.

The moment shatters as Marco appears at the top of the stairs, his dark blue eyes scanning the room before landing onus. He crosses the space in quick strides, tattoos visible beneath his rolled-up sleeves.

"Boss." Marco's voice is low as he leans in close to Nerio's ear, one hand braced against the bar.

I catch fragments of whispered words - "it's done" and "handled" - but the rest is lost in the thrum of music. Nerio's expression doesn't change, but his grip on my hip tightens for a split second before he releases me.

"Good," Nerio says, clapping Marco on the shoulder. "You'll handle this."

Marco nods once, sharp and precise, then disappears through the crowd as quickly as he appeared.

"Everything okay?" I straighten my shirt, studying Nerio's face for any hint of what just passed between them.

"Just business." He waves off my question, reaching for the whiskey. "Nothing for you to worry about."

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