Sometimes I wondered that myself. “I should hate him.”
Gianna’s face crumbled. “But you don’t. Fuck, Aria, do you actually care about him? Love him?”
“Would you really prefer I hate him and be miserable?”
“He treats you like a prisoner. You don’t really believe Romero is just for your protection, right? He keeps an eye on you, so no other guy gets a piece of you.”
I knew that. “Let’s go shopping.”
“Really? That’s so trophy wife of you.”
“Shut up,” I said teasingly, wanting to lighten the mood. “Shopping for hot outfits for tonight. We can hit one of Luca’s clubs.”
Gianna grinned. “I want to wear something that gives guys a fucking boner from looking at me.”
* * *
Romero had waited outside the store while we went shopping. He’d probably checked beforehand if there was a back entrance we could use to escape. I hadn’t told him about our plan to head out to a club yet. It was better if I sprang it on him at the last moment.
Gianna whistled as I turned around so she could admire my outfit. “Holy shit. You are sex on legs. Or maybe death on legs, because Luca will probably kill every guy that looks at you the wrong way.”
I rolled my eyes. “Luca won’t kill anyone for looking.”
“Wanna bet on that?”
No, I wouldn’t. I’d never worn anything that sexy in public. The black leather pants hugged my body so tightly, they looked like a second skin. The sheer black sleeveless blouse I’d tucked into my waistband, revealed my sparkly push-up bra below.
“You don’t look too shabby either,” I said.
Gianna jumped up from my bed. “You think?” She flashed me a seductive smile. She really looked smoking hot in her black shirt and black leather hot pants.
“You’re jailbait.” Good thing we didn’t have to worry about getting carded. I linked our arms and led her out of the bedroom and down the staircase. Romero was sitting on the sofa, cleaning his knife. His eyes darted up and he stilled completely. His gaze wandered over our bodies. He’d never openly stared at me.
“Are you checking us out?” I couldn’t help but tease him. He was always so controlled. This small flicker of humanness was a relief.
He stood abruptly, sheathing the knife into its holder. His eyes were again firmly focused on my face. “What’s going on?” There was a hint of strain in his voice.
I walked up to him, and he actually tensed as if he thought I would jump him. That almost made me laugh. “Gianna and I want to go to Marquee.” That was one of the hottest clubs in town.
Romero shook his head. “That belongs to the Bratva.”
“Oh, what’s the hottest club that belongs to the Famiglia then?”
Romero didn’t say anything at first. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, probably to call Luca. Something snapped in me then. I couldn’t believe he needed to ask Luca permission. I gave Gianna a look and nodded toward Romero, who had started typing. She sidled up to him and actually squeezed his butt. He jumped and I used the moment to snatch his phone from him. He took a threatening step toward me, eyes blazing with anger, then he froze. “Aria,” he said. “Give it back.”
I slipped the phone into my waistband. The pants were tight enough that there wasn’t a risk of it slipping down.
Gianna stepped away from Romero, grinning. “Why don’t you shove your hand down Aria’s pants and get it. I’ll take a pic and send it to Luca.”
Romero’s eyes lingered on the shape of his phone in my pants, but I knew he wouldn’t try to get it. “This isn’t funny.”
“No it isn’t, you’re right,” I said sharply. “I’m an adult. If I tell you to take me to a club, I don’t want you to ask my husband for permission. I’m not a child, nor am I his property.”
“You are Luca’s,” Romero said calmly.
I stepped up to him, so close that I had to tilt my head back. “Gianna and I are going to a club. So unless you want to keep me at gunpoint, you’ll drive us there or let us leave alone.”
Romero’s jaw tightened. The look in his eyes made me realize why he was my bodyguard. For the first time I was reminded that Romero was a killer. “I’ll drive you. But you will go to Sphere. It’s Luca’s.”
“Is it any good?” Gianna asked.
“It’s hotter than the fucking Marquee.” Romero was really pissed.
“Take us there, then.”
He put on his jacket and led us to the elevator. “Luca won’t like it,” he said.
* * *
Gianna and I sat in the back as Romero steered the car through traffic. I pulled the phone out and checked what Romero had been writing.
A wants to hit a club. Permission?
He had managed to send it off before I’d snatched it, but Luca’s reply had come afterward.
No
My blood boiled. Gianna huffed. “I can’t fucking believe his nerve.”
Romero glanced at us through the rearview mirror. “Did Luca reply?”
“Yeah,” I said. “He said you should stay close at all times.”
Romero bought my lie and actually relaxed. Gianna winked. Luca would go through the roof, but I really couldn’t bring myself to care. Romero parked the car in a side alley and led us around the building. A long line of partygoers waited in front of the entrance, but Romero ushered us past them.
“Hey you stupid fucker, there’s a line,” a guy shouted. Romero stopped, a cold anger replacing his usual calm.
“Go ahead,” Romero said to us before he turned around to the guy. Gianna gripped my hand and dragged me toward the two bouncers at the front. They were as tall and muscled as Luca.
“You don’t look old enough to hit a club,” the dark-skinned man said.
“Is that a problem?” Gianna asked with a flirty smile.
The man’s eyes moved to something behind me. “Romero,” he said with a hint of confusion.
“She belongs to the Boss, Jorge. This is Aria Vitiello and her sister Gianna Scuderi of the Chicago Outfit.”
Both men stared at me, then stepped back respectfully. “We didn’t know she was coming tonight. The Boss didn’t say anything,” Jorge said.
Romero grimaced, but didn’t respond. Instead he led Gianna and me inside, past the cloakroom tinged in bluish light and a bar area. Behind it the doors opened to a dark dance floor. Blue and white light flashed and hip-hop beats blasted toward us. Gianna tugged at my hand, wanting to go in that direction.
“We should go to Luca first,” Romero said.
“He’s here?” I asked, surprised.
Romero nodded. “The club has several back rooms and a basement where we handle some business.”
“Why don’t you go tell him I’m here while Gianna and I hit the dance floor.”
Romero gave me a look. “No chance in hell.”
“That’s your problem then. Gianna and I are going dancing.” Romero grasped my wrist. I tensed. “Let me go right this second,” I hissed and he did, his chest heaving. Gianna and I walked into the club. The beat vibrated under our feet as if the floor had come to life. The club was crowded with writhing bodies. Romero shadowed my sister and me as we squeezed through the throng of dancers toward another bar area.