“Let's go!”
The guards immediately fell into steps behind them, escorting them to the club.
“Did the strippers arrive yet? You know those English boys love their bunnies.”
Stefanos chuckled. “Valeria said she'd handle that.”
“And you let her?!” Makros's eyes danced with amusement.
“It was hard to argue when she pointed a pistol directly at my balls and threatened to shoot if I didn't give her a reason to hover around you.”
Makros threw his head back and laughed heartily. A picture of what the entire scene would have looked like flashed in his head, and his laughter increased. “Why does she always walk in on naked men?”
“Fetish, or too much spirit. I don't know. All I know is she's obsessed with you.”
“Me? I'm not the one whose balls are getting a pistol pointed at.”
They both shared a chuckle as the door glided, and they stepped into the crowded room. Valeria was there to welcome them with a smile on her face.
“La Rey.” She opened her arms, ready for a hug.
Makros rolled his eyes, but indulged her. She threw a brief look at Stefanos when they pulled away.
“You,” she said quickly, moving her eyes to the object of her affection.
“You too, baby,” he returned, unwilling to wrestle with her.
She snorted, but when her eyes rested on Makros, it sparkled. “See, I told you to let me pick out an outfit for you. Doyou see how much it suits you?” She dusted an invincible particle off his shoulders.
She hated that they were related by blood. No other man got her blood boiling in the best way like he did. And standing before her, dressed like a god, she was slowly melting into a puddle.
The suit jacket and pants, with his tattoo-covered bare chest did justice to his already outstanding looks. Finishing the look with a scarf tied like a durag over his head was the best decision any man had taken since Jesus's death, in her opinion.
“You look handsome," she said, wanting to hug him repeatedly.
“Valeria, can we go now?” He asked, already over her obsession.
“Come with me,mi amor,” she turned around, walking forward first so he could watch the sway of her hips. She had picked out that gown on purpose so he could watch her walk in it. It was skimpy enough to leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.
“She wants you badly.” Stefanos shook his head.
“Drop it, brother,” he snarled and moved forward.
They climbed up the stairs to the spot reserved for the VIPs. As the club's sole owner, he usually had a whole section. He could choose whoever he wanted in it. Tonight, he specifically asked for the ambassador's daughter. If he could keep her close, he could keep an eye on agent Niccolo and the mission.
“Makros!” One of the English boys spotted him when he arrived at his section. “Can I come over?”
“Please do.” He beckoned with his hand, but as he turned to his cousins, he rolled his eyes. “That fool sold his father's lake house for some ski slope. Too bad we're not handing out candies tonight.”
“Because of the no drug policy? I could sneak in a line or two for special guests, and not a wind will get out," Valeria boasted.
“I trust you can, darling. But not tonight.”
“Okay,” she shrugged. “You know where to find me if you change your mind. I Have to return to the girls now. See you later.” She threw him a wink and turned around. Coming face to face with Stefanos, she frowned and pushed out her tongue.
“Stupid.”
“Brutto,” she sneered and walked away.