to talk myself out of it, I give in to the temptation burning me alive. My nanna always said I got my rebellious streak from her. I’d hate to stain her legacy by standing back and watching my man be mauled by another woman directly in front of me.
Don’t misunderstand. I won’t fight her for Dimitri.
I’m merely going to make him come to me.
“You’re really going to do this?” Rocco asks with a laugh before he downs his drink with one big gulp then follows me across the room.
The nightclub Dimitri hired has a moody, underground sex club feel to it, it is just minus multiple sex pods and a viewing chamber for those who like to watch. High-back booths take up a majority of the space, and a handful of sunken privacy-roped areas give it a risqué, sophisticated edge.
If the women dotted throughout the space were scantily dressed like the ones who entertain Dimitri’s Arabian ‘guests,’ I’d suspect this establishment was a high-end brothel. Since they aren’t, I’ll settle on calling it a dance club for well-to-do patrons.
It’s the fight of my life to keep a rational head when it dawns on me that Dimitri’s buttons aren’t the only things the blonde’s hands are caressing. She’s touching him everywhere—his pecs, his arms, the buckle of his belt. If it’s a part of him, she’s caressing it in some way.
The fact she can touch him so freely without fear of persecution has me switching tactics in an instant, and I throw more than just my morals under the bus in the process.
“Whoa, hold up, Princess P,” Rocco pushes out, half amused, half panicked when I shove him into a bean-bag type seat across from Dimitri and the unnamed blonde before nuzzling into his side. “Aren’t I supposed to get a final meal before I’m sent to slaughter?”
“I’m sure I can find you something interesting to nibble on if you’ll follow my lead.” While mimicking the tiptoe finger walk the blonde is doing to Dimitri’s chest on Rocco’s, I force my gaze away from Dimitri’s slit eyes to the humorous pair peering down at me. “Unless you’re scared about how Dimitri will react?”
With a smile that’s as evil as it is sweet, Rocco sinks deeper into the flexible material cushioning his backside before he adjusts the span of his thighs. His stance is almost an exact replica of Dimitri’s. However, his eyes are nowhere near as narrowed. “I’m not scared of Dimi, Princess P. I’m just worried you don’t understand what you’re signing up for.”
I hook my leg loosely around his waist before pressing my lips to the shell of his ear, shuddering when the scent of his cologne filters into my nostrils. “I’m well aware. I knew in the alleyway when he watched me come, in the woods when he spared my life, and I know right now even with him ripping my heart to shreds, Dimitri Petretti doesn’t play games with anyone… except me.”
Dimitri has an eye on every person in the room, but there’s only one person he is paying attention to—me.
Good.
All is fair in love and war, and this is about as treacherous as it gets.
Pretending he doesn’t want me is one thing, reminding me he’s married is another, but this, allowing a woman to slobber over him directly in front of me is an entirely new kettle of fish, and I am done pretending I’m okay with it.
Even with my heart screaming at me to pull back on the reins, I match the blonde’s seductive moves, tease for tease. When she presses her lips to Dimitri’s ear, mine get super friendly with Rocco’s. When she drags her nails across Dimitri’s pecs, I scour Rocco’s with mine. And when she finally succeeds in undoing the buckle on Dimitri’s belt, I tug on Rocco’s just as aggressively.
“Dammit, Roxie, you’ve got me all types of conflicted. I don’t want Dimitri to slice my dick off if it gets hard at the thought of you stroking it, but if you’re going to touch the hammer, I can’t have you doing it while he’s half-mast. That’s an injustice I cannot allow.”
I don’t pay Rocco’s witty-filled comment any attention. I can’t. I’m too busy staring at Dimitri, shocked as hell I am seconds from sliding my hand into his number two’s pants, and he’s not going to do a damn thing about it.
The cropped hairs splayed across Rocco’s pelvis are tickling my fingertips. I can hear the unease in the beats of