Nico De santis pov
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Marco shifted beside me, already half rising from his seat. "Want me to go after her, boss?"
My gaze didn't move. It stayed locked on the direction she ran—*those trembling legs, the way her ass jiggled in that ridiculous costume as she fled like a frightened little lamb.*
I raised a hand calmly. "No."
Marco hesitated. "You sure?"
I leaned back in my seat, licked my lips slowly, gaze still fixed on where she'd disappeared.
"She's scared. Let my little dove run—for now."
She was pure panic in heels, completely unaware of what kind of men she'd just walked into. It was almost amusing… and something else. Something darker.
*She doesn't even know who I am.*
That made it better.
I tilted my glass, watching the amber liquid swirl.
"I want everything on her," I said coolly. "Where she came from, who brought her here, and why someone like that is working in *my* club."
Marco nodded. "You got it. Name's Marin, right?"
I smiled faintly. "Marin," I repeated, savoring the softness of it. "Pretty name for a trembling little thing."
He waited for more, but I didn't speak.
In my head, I could still see her—those wide green eyes, that soft mouth trying to form an apology.
She didn't belong here.
Which meant she'd belong to me soon enough.
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