Page 94 of Dance of Madness

My brain replays the spine-chilling glint in Nero’s eyes that night, right before he spilled blood. It’s notthatdifferent from a look I’ve seen directed atme.

…Right before he was about to chase me. Or right before he fucked me. A look like the eerie calmness of a shoreline right before the hurricane slams in with a thunderclap.

And suddenly, the emptiness is back.

The confusion and hurt I don’t even want to acknowledge.

“Hey, Milena…”

I blink, yanking my gaze to Brooklyn. “Huh?”

“You know how I ask you how to say things in Russian all the time?”

I arch a brow. “Yeah?”

“How do you saybig dick energy?”

I roll my eyes as Brooklyn and Val crack up.

“I legit almost said loud andKIRinstead of loud and clear,” Val groans. “What thefuck.”

“He’ssofucking hot,” Brooklyn sighs. “Like, insanely, ridiculously, illegally?—”

“And also the notoriously vicious leader of a giant criminal organization?” I smile pointedly at Brooklyn. “Shouldn’t our fantasies maybe switch tonon-violent men? Like, guys who paint, and grow flowers, maybe raise ducks?”

Val frowns. “Uh, that doesn’t soundnearlyas fucking hot as a Bratva Crime Boss?”

“Pakhan,” I toss back. “The Russian isPakhan.”

“Well, that motherfucker is definitelyPakhan.”

I roll my eyes as Brooklyn snorts and cracks the fuck up. “Oh, for sure.”

“You guys are gross,” I groan. “Let’s get to conditioning.”

“Do you think the wordjuicywould be appropriate for his dick?” Val ponders, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“Absolutely,” Brooklyn giggles.

I leave the two of them rhapsodizing over Kir’s dick as I head off to rehearsal.

Still feeling the weird, confusing, empty ache inside.

And still imagining those green eyes glinting in the darkness.

19

NERO

“It’sgood to see you,birichino.”

I chuckle as I hug Aldo and clap his back, letting the goofy-ass nickname he had for me when I was six roll over me.

I mean, it’sAldo.

Aldo and my father were friends even back when my grandfather was running the family, and Aldo’s dad Bruno was Grandpa’sconsigliere. When my father, Antonio, took over, Bruno’s son Aldo becomehis consigliere.

Aldo never had children, though. Never even got married.

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