Dance Of Devils

One - Lorenzo

  Then, a five-foot-four, dark-haired, chaos-creating assassin arrived in my city, decided that I was just a little too comfortable on my throne and thought it best to remind me what it was to be absolutely completely scared shitless.

  Nadia Emilia Regarza terrifies me to my core. Not because she is a scary woman, although she is, but because I am so horribly in love with her. Because she reminded me of just how good it felt to set the world on fire and dance in the flames. Consequences be damned. I'd lose everything for her.

  I'm already losing everything. My empire is crumbling at my feet, my men are fighting one another from the inside, watching their brothers die whilst we do nothing to retaliate because their boss has been shot and is cowering in a compound that isn't his own. Our trade routes have been shut down, weapons have gone missing, shipments have failed. The world I so carefully crafted is slipping through my very fingers.

  Yet, I'm ready to watch the world burn again. I'm ready to lose myself in the flames. Because I know, with Nadia at my side, she will help guide me through it all.

———

  "You all set?" I ask, pressing a firm kiss to the top of Nadia's head, fingers trailing up and down her sides as I hold her close, not willing to admit to myself I'm clutching onto her to stop myself from toppling over. The feel of her between my hands reminds me of all I have to lose, all I have gained, all I would do for her. That thought alone is terrifying.

  "Stop worrying so much, mother hen," she chastises me with a roll of her eyes, pressing a soft kiss to my lips before pulling out of my embrace, at last, helping me lower myself into the armchair beside my bed.

  Physiotherapy is kicking my ass. My entire body aches and my chest feels as though I'm being repeatedly stabbed a million tiny needles any time I move too quickly and, as much as I want to refuse Nadia's help to simply sit my fucking ass down, I know I may never see my balls again if I do, let alone my pride.

  "Piccola," I murmur softly, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her bruised knuckles. "I'm not worrying. But you are."

  I can read her like a book. Closed off to everyone but me, Nadia hates how easily I see through her façade. The way she nibbles at the inside of her bottom lip when she thinks I'm not paying attention, the way her eyes flicker slightly as she runs through the plan again and again in her head. Worry is written all over her.

  "Leo, baby," she soothes, hands resting on her hips, "whilst I enjoy you convincing yourself I'm stressed over this tiny little excursion you're sending us on, you know that's not what I'm worried about. You're projecting, darling." Her heavy gaze calls me out on all my bullshit and I have to bite back a laugh. My stubborn girl refused to acknowledge her own feelings in favour of calling everyone out on theirs.

  "Am I?" I ask earnestly. She says nothing, just shakes her head at me and turns to get dressed, blocking her face from my view. Even then, I feel the anxiety brewing within her.

  Of course, I know she isn't worried about this mission. I may have been shot but I still have some sense about myself. I know her anxiety comes from leaving me to fend for myself.

  In her mind, this place isn't safe or secure. I know she doesn't trust Dante or his men to keep me protected in her absence. But we have little to no other options. I don't want anyone else handling this business and she doesn't want anyone else by my side.

  We weren't after Ivan today, at least, one less stress to add to our already full plate. Nadia already knew how to get to him. She wasn't saying it, hadn't bought it up, but I remembered the conversation the Russian scumbag had with her the night I was shot. I knew he wanted her to hand herself over to him. I also knew she was considering it. But we were yet to play out every scenario to get to him, and we were yet to make a solid plan taking that desire into account. We would have to talk about it, and soon.