"Sadie. I thought you'd want to know that I helped Ivory sneak out tonight. Scar's sitting downstairs, completely oblivious that she stepped out and took a cab."
"What?" he whispered, and that voice was menacing.
"I'm in her room pretending to be her to buy her time, but you should probably just head over to Indulgence."
"What the fuck is she doing in my club?" His voice went deep, menacing, and I worried about the guy that was on the date with Ivory. I convinced myself it would be fine. I'd warned him not to get touchy.
"She's on a date," I laughed, hanging up the phone. It rang when he called back, and I ignored it in favor of taking another sip of Ivory's wine. When Scar's phone rang downstairs, and I heard the front door slam, I considered how easy it would be to divert their attention and sneak her out again if the need arose.
I filed that bit of information away in case we needed it.
Nineteen
Matteo
I didn't know what the fuck Ivory was thinking.
Had I not clarified that I'd kill any man who touched her?
And yet, I sat in my Aston, cursing traffic as I tried to get to her from the meeting that had occupied me later than I liked. I scoffed, the thought of Ivory challenging me by going on a date with another man insane to think. Nobody else would have dared, but if she'd made one thing clear with this little stunt?
It was that I'd been too gentle. Given her too much time to adjust to the reality of my return into her life.
That would change.
Effective immediately.
By that time tomorrow there would be no doubt in her mind that I meant every word when I told her she was mine. Every word when I explained I would never let her go.
Pulling up in front of the club finally, I tossed my valet my keys as I climbed out and strode off without another word. The Aston was inconsequential in comparison to Ivory with another man.
"Mr. Bellandi?" the boy asked, hushing immediately when I didn't spare him a glance. My bouncers threw open the doors, and I prowled into my club, ignoring employees vying for my attention.
I didn't give the first shit about any of them. My eyes scanned the dance floor, looking for my deviant little angel. People crowded into the floor, admittedly a security nightmare for Ivory, even if she hadn't been with another man to begin with. The pulse of bodies was too much, would make it impossible for Scar to protect her unless he was practically on top of her. I caught sight of the huge man, standing guard against the wall. Following his eyes toward the center of the floor, my heart stopped when the crowd parted to reveal my angel.
I froze momentarily as she threw her head back and laughed at something the man across from her said. He miraculously danced with her without touching, something I found odd given Ivory's metallic emerald green dress looked painted on. It left her legs bare, the length of them standing out in the stilettos she wore. Delicate straps led to a scoop neck that showed a hint of the beauty I knew was hidden just underneath.
I growled, flinching when Scar touched my shoulder reassuringly.
"He hasn't touched her once," he admitted and the sincerity in his voice took me off guard. Something in me loosed, knowing I wouldn't need to murder a man in front of Ivory.
Even I knew that might be just slightly too much at that point in our relationship.
But that wouldn't save my Angel from the wrath she incurred.
Especially not when Duke appeared in her space.
Twenty
Ivory
It had been far too long since I'd been dancing.
I'd loved it, once upon a time.
And then I'd become a statistic. One of the millions of women who found themselves out of their depth in a dangerous situation with men who didn't give a shit about the word no.
I hadn't gone dancing since.
Hadn't been able to trust men or trust my recklessness.
That all changed the day Matteo came barging back into my life, even though I'd been the one to barge into his home. He was the most reckless thing I could ever do, not the alcohol pouring through my system or the way the music energized me as I moved to the sound of it. My date, Patrick, was nice. He kept his hands to himself, which, for a date in a nightclub, I had to say was surprising, but very much appreciated.
"You're the life of this club with those moves," he yelled, letting me hear him over the din of the music despite his respectable distance.
I threw my head back and laughed, because we both knew it wasn't a compliment. I wasn't a horrible dancer, but I was too enthusiastic in my excitement to give in to the sensations pounding through my body. The adrenaline of feeling like I was part of something, part of a crowd, for even just a little while.
A figure emerged from the way the crowd formed, slipping through any gaps he could find. My eyes landed on Duke, watching as he panted with exertion. Whatever he'd been doing, he'd rushed it. His jeans were stained, his tee-shirt beaten and one I recognized from his collection that he wore only in his studio. Duke wasn't the nightclub type to begin with, but there was no way he'd show up in studio clothes if he decided to go out for a night on the town.
"Duke?" I asked, and he sucked back a deep fortifying breath. "What are you doing here?"
He didn't answer, suddenly crashing into my space. His hand caught me around the nape, sliding underneath the curtain of my hair. I knew he'd find it slick with sweat, but he didn't seem to care. I stared up at him with wide eyes, and I knew what was coming.
I wished I could stop it, but something in the look in his eyes prevented me.
He needed it. He needed to know.
The least I could do was give him that.
Because the truth was, I already knew I'd never love him the way he loved me.
It wasn't possible when someone else already owned me.
Heart and soul.
One more deep breath, his cornflower eyes staring into mine intently. They drifted closed, his lips touching mine tentatively at first. I didn't move, didn't dare do anything. I had to let him see, had to show him. He'd spent too long waiting, too long wondering what might be.
It was time for Duke to move on with his life.
When I didn't shove him away, his confidence grew, and his lips pressed into mine more firmly. The tip of his tongue traced my lips, and I opened for him just enough for him to kiss me. The art, the passion, with which he worked translated into his kiss. A skilled seduction where he used his mouth as the only conduit.
But there was nothing, no spark.
Because only Matteo could make me feel.
When he pulled back, his eyes opened slowly, a mix of awe and apprehension flitting through them. "You didn't feel it?" he asked. I shook my head, looking down as tears filled my eyes. "I'm sorry, Duke. You know that I'd change it if I could."
"It's because of him? You're choosing a criminal over me?" His voice sounded harsh, and I knew that the rough wrath of Duke's temper hovered just under the surface, waiting to unleash when he was alone and could show the real hurt.
"No. I know Matteo and I will never last," I explained. "I'm choosing you over me." His brow furrowed, and I stepped closer to his embrace, wrapping my arms around him supportively. "You deserve more that I'll ever be able to give you. I love you too much to trap you in a relationship with me, when I know I'll never be able to love you the way you love me. I don't want that for you."