Page 65 of Where Wild Hearts Dance
“But, isn’t he just beautiful?”
I know who she’s referring to. There’s four of them sitting in a curved booth. Three are older, maybe forties, fifties. One is more like late twenties and a dead ringer for a young Marlon Brando. His lids lift and lock on mine and something about them is a little too familiar. He’s one of Cristiano’s men, I’m sure of it.
My heart sinks low in my ribcage. It doesn’t matter where I go in New York, I can’t escape them. The Di Santos areeverywhere.
My breath feels severe when I inhale. “Hey. Where’s the restroom?”
Paige doesn’t tear her eyes from the poorly disguised mafioso across the room when she answers. “Back toward the bar, second door on the right.”
“Great. I’ll be back in five.”
I stand and walk to the restroom feeling more fucked off with each step I take. It’s not enough that my sister’s marrying into this family, I have to go and do brazen, sexual things with the second in command, who then humiliates me by tossing me to one side after I’ve baredeverything to him but my soul. And when I try to get away, to have a night on my own with a friend, their presence hangs over me.
Each step I take feels angrier, so that by the time I’ve reached the restroom, I’m questioning my sanity. I stand in front of a floor length mirror on the far wall. I look like a queen but it’s wasted on men. It’s wasted onhim.
I think back to the way he held my face, like he was struggling to hold back. The way he jerked into my hand, coating my skin. It was so raw and vulnerable for both of us. His gaze was so gentle when he lifted my shirt, then it turned to stone. After what he’d done to me, coming over my breasts like that, I did not expect him to shut down after seeing that I’d stroked his semen across my skin. It doesn’t make any sense.
Because I won’t stop. And that’s a promise.
Those were his words when he told me not to put my mouth on him again. Those are not the words of someone who isn’t attracted to me, surely.
The space between my thighs starts to throb at the memory and I feel an unhinged desire to show him what he’s missing. It hurts to admit it to myself but my hatred for him is only skin deep. I know there’s more beneath the surface and I need to see it.
I take a few pictures of myself in the floor-length mirror, then I hold my middle finger up and snap.
That’s the one.
I don’t bother adding a message—I just text the photo straight to Bernadi’s phone. Then I smiletriumphantly to myself, slip the phone into my purse then head back out to the club. Our booth is empty when I return, and when I look around I see Paige cosying up with the guy I’m pretty sure is one of the soldiers working the upper west side.
She looks up and nods as I signal to her that I’m going to have a little explore. I walk around the edge of the dancefloor sipping my margarita. This place is hot. And lavish. Coated in textures of satin, leather and velvet, with reds and blacks dominating the color scheme. The booths aren’t overcrowded and the ice buckets are laden with European wines.
The bartenders move like shadows in a dance, their techniques a blur, their creations brighter than stars.
I’m completely absorbed in this decadent scene when a figure appears at my side.
“Miss Castellano…”
“Yes?” I look up into dark eyes I don’t recognize.
“Your presence has been requested in the VIP lounge. Can I escort you there now?”
I look across the dance floor toward Paige. She and the soldier are deep in conversation, their feet entwined beneath the table. She won’t miss me for a few minutes.
“Um, of course.” I follow the large-boned, intimidatingly tall man to the back of the floor into an elevator. Once inside, he presses a button and the doors open again almost immediately.
“Make yourself at home, Miss Castellano,” he says and I step out into another darkened room.
I turn around. “Who asked—” I want to know who’srequested my company back here but the elevator doors close, concealing the man inside, and in another second, I’m completely alone.
Contessa
Well, this is weird.
I’m standing in a circular room, furnished with two small, curved sofas and one long, low glass table. It looks luxurious and exclusive but… there’s no one here.
I sigh out a long breath. As much as I wanted to escape the day I’ve had, the thought of being with other people and making small talk, even with Paige, makes me so tired. I need time to process what happened earlier—the dancing, the completely out of character compliment I got from Antonio and the surreal moment I shared with Bernadi. And, of course, the rejection.
I walk into the room and look around. It feels as snug as it appears. Velvet drapes line every wall but it sounds as though the far wall isn’t a wall at all. I walk towards it and pull back one of thedrapes. Immediately, the dance floor below appears. This room is on the first floor looking down on everyone in the club below. There isn’t a corner of the club that’s concealed from this balcony. It’s the perfect place to spy on every patron.
