I am sitting alone at the far end of the bar counter. The stem of my third martini rests between my fingers, with an olive skewered neatly like a tiny green sentinel. I swirl my drink once before taking a slow sip, letting the briny tang coat my tongue.
Where the hell has Lucien gone? Is he coming back? Or am I just waiting for nothing?
I try to think about something else, like the fighting practice or shooting sessions.
But my mind drifts again to him. Lucien
Where the hell had he even come from in my life? One moment, I was dangling over the edge of my own ruin when my so-called people sent me to prison to rot for the rest of my life, and the next, there he is. Not just there, but pulling me out of every damn mess that comes my way.
And then there is the other thing.
He hasn't touched me. Not once. Not in the way men usually meant when they claimed a woman. Yeah, he had seen me naked; hell, he had even helped me shower when I couldn't. His hands roamed over my skin, even in places where they shouldn't have. But it never felt like the touch, touch.
It was all controlled.
What exactly does he want from me?
I narrow my eyes slightly at my reflection in the back-bar mirror. That is the million-dollar question. Maybe I should just ask him outright. Or...ask him for help with my revenge.
The thought comes like a spark and dies just as fast.
No. He'll never help with that. Lucien wants me to drop my past like it was yesterday's trash, to live this cushy life he has set in my lap. The past still feels buried under my skin, itching like an old scar.
I tip back another swallow of my martini and set the glass down with a gentle tap. That is when I feel it again, someone standing close behind me.
I straighten my spine and place the glass carefully on the counter, slide off the stool, and pivot.
"Now what do you want, Jack?" I ask with my flat tone.
I brace myself for his crooked grin, because he is not Jack Morgan.
My breath is stuck in my throat. This is Dominico Riva standing closer than the comfort zone allows. My fingers instinctively reach for Jack's business card and toss it in my clutch. "What the hell do you want from me?"
He smirks, like he has been waiting for this moment. "What about one more game?"
I laugh, but the sound is dry and humorless. "Why? One loss isn't enough for you?"
Dominico leans in a fraction. "How about this time we bet on something...personal?" His words curl with provocation. "I can make you scream my name louder than Lucien."
My nostrils flare before I can even stop them. Creepy sensations emanate from my gut. Every nerve in my body screams to shove him back. But there are people surrounded by us, drinking, laughing, and clinking glasses. Drawing attention now will be the worst possible move.
So I force my shoulders to stay loose. Without a word, I step past him. Dominico's chuckle followed me for a while.
The second I step out of the party, the echo of Dominico's evil chuckles finally ends. The thumping bass from the ballroom also fades behind me, and for the first time in months, the air feels...wrong. Empty.
I hate to admit it, but I am used to being watched by Lucien. His eyes seemed to follow me even when he wasn't in the room. The way I just know he is watching. He never claimed it. Never need to. I feel it, like the hum of electricity in the walls. And now, without it, I feel exposed.
I wrap my arms around myself and decide to keep walking. I don't know where I am going, just that I want to put as much distance as possible between myself and the evil laughter, the music, and the champagne-soaked crowd.
My mind is spinning in circles, God. I just need air. I need quiet. I need —
Bam…
A wall of muscle slams into me, shoving me hard against the cold stone. My shoulder blade hit first, and a scream came out of my throat before a huge hand clamped over my mouth. My eyes go wide. Dominico Riva.
The corridor is drowning in the dark, but I can still see a glint of triumph and something darker in his eyes. His whiskey breath is hitting my face.
"Shh." He hisses, leaning in way too close.
I try to twist out of his grip, but his body cages me in, solid and unyielding. I can feel the strength in his arms, the deliberate press of his weight keeping me exactly where he wants me.
My heart is kicking hard against my ribs. I don't even get the chance to think or scream before his mouth crashes down on mine.
It isn't a kiss. It is theft. Harsh, uninvited, and fueled by some twisted need to prove he can take what he wants.
My hands fly up to his broad chest, shoving, nails digging through his suit. He doesn't budge at all. He is not giving me any chance to use any move Imani told me.
Fury sparks hotter than fear in my veins, and something in me snaps. I try the move that has been used by women since the beginning of the world in their defense. My knee comes up...hard.
Diminico curses, staggering back just enough for me to push him back, hard. He falls to the ground and curls into a fetal position. I scream at him. "You bastard," and kick him hard once again, but this time on his chest.
Before Dominico can straighten up, I have already stepped back, spun on my heels, and bolted down the corridor. My breath is ragged, adrenaline surging so fast my vision blurs at the edges. I am not thinking...just moving.
I round the corner and smack right into a wall of ice and danger.
Except it isn't a wall.
It is Lucien.
I recognize his cologne, his presence, and his protective arms around me.
Safe. Finally safe.
My forehead is pressing against his chest, and only then do I realize I am trembling. Not the fine, delicate kind of shaking, but deep, bone-level tremors I can't control. My fingers curl tight into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms until they sting.
Lucien tilts his head, his jaw brushing the crown of my hair. "Who?" The single word is a low growl.
I don't answer right away. Can't. My chest is still heaving, my pulse still sprinting like I have run a mile.
Lucien pulls back just enough to see me, his eyes scanning every inch of me like he is cataloging damage. He wipes the edges of my lips with his thumb pad. I am sure he is removing my smeared lipstick.
He asks in his steady tone. "Who did it, Anaya?"
Before I open my mouth, I hear Dominico's evil laugh again, and Matteo is grabbing him by the neck.