Page 54 of Tainted Princess
“Francesca is my wife, you punk.”
“Mrs. Argenti is my responsibility. I am here for her protection. Even if that means I have to protect her from you.”
The comment hit me like a kick to the ribs. Was I really standing here, in my own fuckin’ club, manhandling a woman who was half my size? What the fuck was wrong with me? I looked down at Francesca, her golden eyes wide, as she stared at me. But where I would have expected fear, all I saw was disappointment.
Yeah, me too, Francesca.
Releasing her, I stepped back, eager to put some distance between us. Lexi, by some miracle, managed to keep her mouth shut, but she was staring at me like I was some kind of monster. I sure as hell felt like one. Running my hands through my hair, I exhaled a deep breath and tried again.
“Francesca, please go back to the apartment. We can discuss this later.”
Without waiting for a reply, I spun around and stalked back to the table where Jerry Lebowitz was still waiting. Thankfully, his attention seemed to be held by the writhing women on the dance floor and not on my domestic issues.
I muttered an apology and sat back down, in a different seat this time so that could I watch Francesca, and listened to Jerry prattle on about all the reasons I couldn’t get by without him, but seriously didn’t have the patience to listen anymore.
I was too busy staring across the club, watching Francesca watch me. She hadn’t moved, but her narrowed eyes showed me she was thinking. Calculating, sizing me up, and taking my measure. Picking up my previously abandoned glass, I stared right back, daring her to defy me.
Finally, a slow smile spread across her face, and she turned, making her way toward the door. I kept watching, my jaw clenching when she removed her coat, showing off the sexy top I hadn't really appreciated earlier when I was losing my shit at her, and handed it to Lexi, speaking in her ear as she did so. Lexi nodded and headed for the door, drawing Vinnie after her despite his protests, as Francesca detoured, moving instead toward the bar.
Right up to the man she pointed out to me earlier.
“Enzo,” Jerry’s voice was like nails on a chalk board, but I couldn’t look away. The lights of the club reflected off of Francesca’s silver top, making it look like she was glowing in the dim room. I watched as she approached that guy, gritting my teeth as she smiled up at him, reaching out to run her fingers over his arm where it held his beer bottle. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Jerry,” I said, my jaw clenching as Francesca reached into her pocket and withdrew some cash. “Just give me a minute.” He huffed in annoyance, but settled, turning back to the dance floor.
I stood from the booth, once again making my way across the club. “No way,” I grated out. The guy had removed something from his pocket, sliding it toward Francesca. “No fuckin’ way.”
I don’t know what made me angrier: the fact that Anton lied to me, or the fact that Francesca was right.
But anger aside, my wife was in the middle of a drug deal, in my fuckin’ club, and I was not gonna be able to reach her in time. I scanned the room, trying to catch the attention of my bouncers, but none of them were looking my way.
The place was packed, and as I shoved my way across the room, I could see Francesca leaning seductively against the bar, drawing the guy’s eyes to her tits as she twirled her hair like this was some bad teen rom-com.
“Get the fuck outta my way,” I shouted, causing some of the co-eds near me to flee, but not all of them were sober enough to read my intentions, so I started shoving. When I looked up again, Francesca was even closer to him, her fingers toying with the hair on the back of his neck as he leaned down to hear what she was saying.
What the fuck was she doing?
Just as I burst through the crowd, I stared in shock as Francesca turned her teasing touch into a clawing grip. She fisted her hand in his hair and slammed his face against the bar once, twice. Caught by surprise, the guy put up no resistance, and when she raised his head after the second hit, I could see that his nose was clearly broken, blood coating his chin and throat in a rapidly growing stream.
But Francesca wasn’t finished. Not letting the guy have time to gather his wits, she grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm around and up between his shoulder blades, before delivering a devastating kick to the outside of his leg, buckling his knee and sending him sprawling to the floor.
People nearby were screaming, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the sight. As I watched, Francesca completely incapacitated the man, wrenching his arm up behind his back and kneeling on his spine until he cried out in pain. When he was safely immobilized, she looked around, eyes wild as she bared her teeth at anyone who might dare approach. When her eyes landed on mine, some of the fight dimmed a bit, but whatever she saw on my face must have encouraged her, because she leaned down and growled something in the guy’s ear. He shook his head and she spoke again, reefing on his arm as he howled. Unable to stay away, I moved close, close enough to hear what she was saying.
But she was speaking fuckin’Russian.
I was frozen, completely in shock at the situation before me. This woman, this pretty doll of a woman who had been raised to be the perfect meek and compliant mafia wife, was in my club, taking down drug dealers and speaking Russian.
Holy fuck, was I turned on.
Before I could even blink, the bouncers finally arrived, hauling the guy up by his arms and carting him away.
“Wait,” Francesca hollered, reaching out to shove her hand in the guy’s jeans pocket. He jerked and twisted, but the bouncers held firm. She pulled her hand back, now clutching several plastic baggies, and nodded as the bouncers continued, taking him to the back to await questioning before we called the cops.
Slowly, the people around us resumed their evening, the excitement finished.
But my heart was still pounding. I stood there, staring at Francesca, wondering once again just who the fuck she really was. We didn’t speak; I just continued to gape at her while she stared smugly back at me until Vinnie appeared at her side, finally breaking our connection as she turned her attention to him.
“You wanna tell me what the hell that was?” Rock had appeared behind me, drawn no doubt by the commotion.
