“Semantics.” He glanced at my pink cheeks. “I’ve never seen a woman in the Cosa Nostra blush until you.”

He didn’t need to remind me.

“Does it bother you?”

“Not at all.” He pulled his gaze to his work, running a thumb across his jaw in a thoughtful way.

My breathing turned shallow, and I took a step toward the island, grasping the countertop. “Thank you for the coffeemaker and the phone.”

Sitting across from me, the dim lighting made his eyes look like burnt gold. “You’re welcome.”

Tension crept between us, finding its way between my legs and settling there like a heavy weight. I wanted to thank him in an entirely different way. I wanted to see what was beneath that white shirt. I wanted to know how much little effort it would take for him to hold me down. I wanted to put out this fire inside me that had been there since I’d met him. I wanted him.

His gaze found mine, and the gold blackened around the edges. My pulse pirouetted to a strange dance.

“You’re coming to work with me tonight.”

His indifferent tone broke the tension until it scattered to the corners of the room.

I exhaled. “Why?”

“I need Luca and I don’t trust anyone else to stay with you.”

I ignored the way that made me sound like a two-year-old. “Are you expecting trouble tonight?”

“I expect trouble every night.”

My brows pulled together. “And you want to drag me into it?”

“I’m not going to let you die.” His gaze flashed with dark amusement. “I’m just getting started with you.”

“One can’t paint New York as it is, but rather as it is felt.”

—Georgia O’Keeffe

THE CLOSEST THING I HAD to nightclub attire was a pair of skinny jeans and a loose, strappy top. It was white and shimmery, and the sleeves were cut on the sides, leaving thin strings connecting them to my wrist. Paired with my white heels that still lay near the back door, it would be passable.

As I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, I frowned at the curling iron in the second drawer. When I’d bathed this morning, I found cherry blossom shampoo and soap already in the shower. Some woman visited enough she stockpiled toiletries. What would I do if he brought her home while I was here? Something bitter twisted in my stomach.

I tried to figure out why it bothered me so much. If it were Oscar Perez who brought another woman home, I would feel lucky for the reprieve. Though, with this man . . . the idea made my throat tighten with an unexplainable feeling.

I used the curling iron. And then I freshened my makeup but kept it light.

I was near the back door, slipping into my heels, when Nico came downstairs. I wished my uncertainty about that stupid woman’s shampoo would have dulled the sensation of how my body reacted to him. It thrummed at seeing him in a black suit with a sober expression that burned through my skin. His handsomeness was so classic it made me believe he could fit seamlessly into any time period.

I couldn’t hold on to resentment or anxiety of what he may do in the future. I wouldn’t live my life like that. I would just have to take it one day at a time and let the inevitable work its way out when it did.

“How did I get ready before you?” I teased, leaning against the back door.

His lips tipped up as he grabbed his keys off the counter and then typed something into a security system keypad near his office door.

Hesitation settled in me when he didn’t respond. He’d seemed more distant since our conversation this morning. What did I expect? I was sure he thought I was involved with some man, and I had never made it clear that I wasn’t. I’d told him I didn’t want to marry him, and I wasn’t a virgin, which I was sure he wanted since he picked Adriana. Or maybe he just preferred her?

Why did he even want me?

He could have anyone he wanted. Any virgin from here to the west coast would be delighted if they could get past his reputation.

I realized then that I wanted him to want me.

Where a deep attraction had hummed for him since I’d met him, there was something else coming to life, pulsing like a weak beat on a heart rate monitor. I could almost hear the beep echo in my ears. Almost feel the thrum in my chest. But it wasn’t of me.

It felt like man, clean sweat and whiskey.

Twinkling urban lights. High heels and short dresses. Too many drinks and meaningless sex hanging like an inevitable in the air. Nightlife was in full swing as we made our way into a side door of the club.

I’d never been to a nightclub before. Had never been one of these girls who waited to get into my fiancé’s club. Who might’ve even had sex with him for all I knew. Some unease curled in my stomach. How could I ever please him when I was sure he’d been with much more experienced women? It was a hit to my womanhood imagining I would bore him in bed. He hadn’t even tried to get me there—had just given me an orgasm like it was an engagement present and left.

I chewed the inside of my cheek in thought. The idea that he might not want to sleep with me only made me want it more. Just his hand on my arm and his presence by my side warmed me from the inside out.

Nico guided me down a red-carpeted hall. The lighting was low, and the air carried a hint of fresh cigarette smoke. Wasn’t it illegal to allow smoking in one’s establishment in New York? A smile pulled on my lips. His most heinous crime, I bet.

An electric beat pulsed through the walls as purple and blue strobe lights flickered into the hall like they’d escaped the dance floor. We went down a set of stairs and then stopped at a heavy metal door. Nico stood so close behind me his jacket touched my back. Over my head, he knocked five times in a heavy rap with a short pause in between each.

A moment later, the door swung open and a dark-haired hostess in a tight black dress stood on the other side. “Signor Russo.” She smiled brightly at him, but then her smile fell as her eyes came down and regarded me. Her gaze narrowed, fake eyelashes and all. She did a great job with her makeup, I had to admit, but the way her lips curled in disgust like I was a cheap prostitute was blatantly rude.

Ugh. My first day out with Nico and I was the most unpopular woman in the city.

I would have brushed it off before, not having the guts to confront it in any way. Nonetheless, I was now marrying a don. I couldn’t let myself be run over by waitresses. It felt a little ridiculous, like I was playing immature games, but I reached back and slipped my fingers in between Nico’s.

He stilled as if I surprised him, but after a second, his fingers tightened around my own. And then I felt a light smack on my ass to get me moving. The gesture made me warm everywhere, but thankfully it didn’t reach my face.

I didn’t look at the waitress again, though I believed she got the picture. He could do whatever or whoever he wanted, but not in my presence. There was a certain amount of respect I was due, and I didn’t think even Nico would deny me that.

I dropped his hand and stepped onto a short steel staircase. I blinked, taking it all in.

A thick atmosphere hung in the air that I wouldn’t have expected in a place like this. For starters, it looked like there were maybe two women in the room, including the one at the door. The gross majority were men, from suits to board shorts and polos.