VALENTINA
Val spent the next hour crafting a plan to unravel her engagement and strong-arm her father. She didn't have time to waste.
After she stormed out of her father's study, no one cared to follow her. She thought Adriano might've tried to chase her down, but even her beloved uncle answered to Leonardo Romano's demands. The men had undoubtedly busied themselves discussing whatever secrets Matteo had gleaned when torturing the Russian. Or, perhaps they were drafting the marriage contract between her and Ezra McLeod...
Val rolled her eyes at the thought, swiping a ruby red lipstick along her plump bottom lip.
Good, she decided. She didn't want one of her father's capos tailing her that evening. At least, not yet...
Val finished painting red on her lips and strode out of the bathroom attached to her childhood bedroom. She'd been pleased to find her luggage waiting for her at the foot of her bed when she arrived, and now she dug through one of the large pink suitcases for a dress that suited her needs...
Eventually, her hands landed on a little black number, silky and short and utterly scandalous for the coveted daughter of a mob boss. Especially one that was practically engaged to the heir of McLeod Pharmaceuticals. Val smirked, tossed her fuzzy pink robe on the bed, and shimmied into the mini-dress. To top it off, she strapped a pair of four-inch heels on her feet and clasped the gaudiest diamond necklace she could find on her neck.
On the nightstand, her phone buzzed. A message from Alysia Canelli, her high school best friend, waited on the lock screen. OMG! You're back in NY? Yes, we have to go out tonight! The Casper @11?
Val grinned. She'd texted Alysia almost as soon as she left her father's study. Val told the notorious party-animal that she'd returned to New York that evening and wanted to make her debut on the club-scene that same night. Although they hadn't seen each other in four years, Val knew from Alysia social media profiles that she took every chance to party.
If anyone knew the most popular, most frequented clubs in the city, it was Alysia Canelli. In truth, Val couldn't care less about "making her New York debut," but she needed a crowded club filled with made men that might recognize her after four years off the grid.
Val unlocked her phone and typed a hasty: See you then.
Now she needed to secure a ride to the club. Easier said than done, but Val banked on the knowledge that her father, uncle, and the capos were still engaged in a meeting downstairs. The bodyguards and foot soldiers, however, possessed no knowledge of what transpired in Val's conversation with her father. She could convince them to listen to her.
She slipped her phone and wallet into a sequin handbag, scrunched a bit of life into her loose curls, and strode out of her bedroom, where a familiar young man stood in the hallway. Val blinked. "Luca?"
He stood straighter, rolling his shoulders back before addressing her. "Signorina Valentina," he replied in a heavy accent.
Val narrowed her eyes, adjusting the strap of her little purse on her shoulder. "Do I want to know why you're skulking around outside my bedroom?"
"Your father ordered me to guard you." He frowned, his spine still rigid. The poor kid looked like a red-coat outside of Buckingham freakin' Palace.
Luca couldn't hold her gaze, undoubtedly worried about what might happen if he looked at Don Leonardo's principessa incorrectly, and he spoke so formally that Val could guess that he was a newly initiated member of the Cosa Nostra. Guarding her must have been one of his first assignments, and Val figured she could use that to her advantage.
An effortless smirk snaked on her lips, and she eyed the bodyguard up and down. "You're a little overeager, but I like that. As it happens, I need a guard to accompany me to a business meeting this evening at The Casper."
Val feigned confidence as she strode past Luca toward the staircase. He chased after her, brows furrowed. "Business meeting?"
She paused at the top of the staircase and turned to face the young man. A little line formed between his dark brows, exposing his concern. Val cocked a perfectly manicured brow. "Yes? My father asked me to meet with an old friend, Alysia Canelli. Problema?"
Luca frowned, and his eyes narrowed, suspicious. "Your father didn't tell me about this."
"Does he typically inform you of his every decision?" Val challenged.
Luca's eyes hardened, but he didn't humiliate himself with a response.
One corner of Val's lips curled as she continued. "No? I didn't think so. But I am his daughter — his heir. So, Luca, please go start the car before I am late for my meeting."
Luca hesitated for a moment, as if he considered going to ask a capo for guidance, then nodded, a shallow dip of his chin. "Yes, signorina."
With that, he led their way down the stairs, through the foyer, and out the door, where the same car as earlier waited. He fished a set of keys out of his pocket and clicked the unlock button on the remote, and the headlights blinked. Luca opened the door of the back seat for Val like a chauffeur, and she thanked him while carefully sliding into the vehicle.
Before Luca climbed into the driver's seat, Val exhaled the tension that had gathered into her shoulders. On the one hand, she felt guilty for lying to the innocent bodyguard and prayed that her father wouldn't punish him for her rebellion, but she couldn't worry about that now. Right now, she needed to show her father what awaited him if he sold her off to the highest bidder. She'd make sure that Luca kept his job—and his head—later.
Luca started the engine, and Val stared out of the window at the front-door, half-expecting her father to storm through the threshold to stop her himself. No one chased her, and she hated that she half-wished that someone would, if only to show that her father cared, even a little.
The iron gates squeaked to let the car pass, and Val waited until they were on the main highway toward New York City to poke her head into the driver's seat. "When we reach The Casper, I hope you'll try to enjoy yourself a little. I don't expect you to stay by my side the entire night."
Luca glanced back at her for a moment before returning his dutiful gaze to the dark road. "I thought this was a business meeting?"
"A business meeting in a dance club," Val teased, patting his shoulder twice. "Don't tell me you've never mixed work with pleasure?"
He frowned and emitted a low hmph.
Val rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat. "Have a drink, is what I'm saying. You need to loosen up. Now, how do I set up the bluetooth in this car?"
***
They reached The Casper at a quarter till eleven, and Val desperately needed a drink.
Luca paid for the valet with a clip of cash, and Val adjusted her tits one last time before approaching the club entrance, bypassing the line of hopeful patrons seeking entry.She mustered every ounce of bravado and cold-hard confidence as they approached the bouncer.
The bouncer, a beefy man with beautiful ebony skin, eyed her with skepticism lining his dark eyes. She tossed a few chestnut curls over her shoulder and smiled sweetly. "Hello, handsome," she purred, fluttering her thick lashes. "I'm here on behalf of Leonardo Romano. Heard of him?"
The whites of the bouncer's eyes expanded, and he hurried to unclip the rope to let Val and Luca into the bustling club.
Val frowned, even as she passed through the entrance and into the fray. She turned to Luca, pouting. "Do you think he let us in because I look sexy, or because I'm Leonardo's daughter?"
Luca rolled his eyes, unamused, and pressed a hand against the small of Val's back, leading her inside.
Almost as soon as they passed through the threshold, neon green lights flashed overhead and EDM vibrated through the floors and walls. The Casper's ceiling resembled a night-sky, with glowing stars strewn across the building and a big, crescent-shaped moon behind the DJ booth.
"Where are you meeting the informant?" Luca practically shouted in her ear.
Val chewed on her bottom lip. She hadn't thought that far in advance. "Uh — I'm meeting her at the bar," she explained, simultaneously plucking her phone from her purse and scrawling a quick text to Alysia. Here. Meet me at the bar?
Val didn't wait for Alysia to reply before spearing toward the crescent-shaped bar that occupied the entire left side of the building. Luca's hand remained steadfast on her back as she pushed through the crowds.
"Shouldn't you be meeting her in a back room?" Luca questioned, his voice barely carrying over the pounding bass.
Val looked over her shoulder and rolled her smokey-painted eyes. "She isn't a prostitute, sicko."
She pushed ahead, weaving through the crowded space with the skill of a girl that had successfully navigated the most popular clubs in London. New York's The Casper had nothing on London's Fabric bodysonic dancefloor. To Val's displeasure, Luca kept up with her weaving.
"You'll barely be able to hear each other out here," Luca argued, his lips practically brushing against Val's earlobe. "Let me get you a room."
She spun to face him, head on, and tried to replicate her father's no-nonsense glare. "Luca, you're here as my bodyguard. So... Guard my body and stop talking."
His eyes hardened, and a muscle in his jaw twitched before he nodded. He stepped back, offering Val space to take a seat at one of the few unoccupied seats around the bar.
She didn't enjoy speaking to him that way, but he asked too many questions. Her entire plan would be foiled if he hauled her back to her father's mansion too early in the evening. She could only pray that Luca would forgive her when he discovered that her father never ordered her to meet with Alysia. Despite only knowing him for a day, she liked him. He'd be a damn good bodyguard for someone who actually wanted to be guarded.
The bartender approached her, and she ordered a Spritz for herself and a Dark'n' Stormy for Luca. He didn't ask for it, but Val meant it when she told him to enjoy himself that evening. The bartender returned with both drinks, and Val took a few sips of her beverage before turning to find Luca, who'd staked himself beside a speaker a few paces away.
"I come bearing a peace offering," she shouted above the music, the Dark 'n' Stormy extended toward him.
He took it, albeit begrudgingly, and brought it to his lips once before clearing his throat. "Where is your informant?"
Val swallowed a generous sip of Spritz and shrugged. "She's running late," she explained, although she hadn't heard from Alysia since she arrived at the club. Even if Alysia ended up bailing on her, Val couldn't let the evening go to waste. She could gain her father's attention without the notorious party-girl's assistance...
She threw her head back and drained the entire contents of her glass, savoring the cocktail as it slid down her throat. "I'm gonna go dance, Luca."
Luca's eyes widened. "Valentina —"
"Keep an eye out for Alysia, will you?" she requested, turning away from Luca before he could protest.
"I don't even know what she looks like!" he shouted after her, and it was the last thing Val heard before pushing into the center of the dancing masses.
With or without Alysia Canelli, Val had a job to do. And she wouldn't stop until all of New York knew that Leonardo Romano's soon-to-be-engaged daughter had returned.
Val spent the next hour on the dance floor.
She didn't know if Alysia ever arrived. She never checked her phone, half-afraid that she'd find a dozen angry texts from her father if she pulled the device out of her purse. Ignorance is bliss, she decided.
Almost as soon as Val arrived on the dancefloor, she attached herself to a group of fabulously dressed men who welcomed her with open arms. Alcohol always served as the best icebreaker. With another Spritz and a tequila shot in her system, Val's lips loosened enough that she complained to one man, Simon, apparently, that her father was a dick. After that, they took turns talking about their shared daddy-issues.
The DJ transitioned the club to a Latin remix with a slow, rocking beat that bordered on sensual. The men paired up with their partners, and Val prepared to retreat to the bar for a cup of water. Before she could, a pair of hands snaked around her waist and tugged her back against a rock-hard wall of flesh.
Val gasped, turning her head to look over her shoulder at the man now pressed flush against her. She couldn't see him — only felt an increased pressure on her hips as he pulled her impossibly closer. Her eyes flashed toward the group of men that she'd been dancing with before, and one man gave her a sneaky thumbs-up, denoting his approval.
One dance wouldn't hurt anyone, and, apparently, her partner was attractive enough to warrant a thumbs-up from Val's new friends.
A small smile pulled on Val's lips, and she rubbed her ass against this newcomer's front with more confidence. His right hand slipped against the silky fabric of her little black dress, drifting dangerously close to the crease between her thighs.
Val's breath caught in her throat, and she tried to spin to face this man, but his grip on her hips firmed. Her partner lowered his head, and Val instinctively tilted her neck to one side, granting him access to her neck. The scrape of stubble on the sensitive flesh beneath her ear sent an unfamiliar rush through the pit of her stomach. Her eyes fluttered closed as the scent of peppermint and leather surrounded her. Intoxicated her.
The music crescendoed, and lips grazed at her pulse, the ghost of a touch. She entwined one hand with one of her partner's. The other snaked up his neck, her fingers caressing his strong jawline. She swore she felt his entire body tense beneath her touch, and it emboldened her.
Val opened her eyes, half-lidded, and tilted her head up. She urged his hands closer to her center, the skin beneath his heavy hands igniting with delicious warmth. Perhaps it was the alcohol in her blood, but she wanted more. More of his touch. More of his stubbled lips against her neck...
His palm spread against her upper thigh, fingertips toying with the hem of her scandalously short dress, and Val couldn't contain the soft moan that escaped her lips. Again, she tried to turn to face her partner, but hands returned to her hips and held her in place, his touch firm enough to bruise. Val hissed.
"You like this?" he murmured, his voice like gravel in her ear. Val nearly melted, her fingernails curling into his knuckles.
"Yes," she gasped, unsure if he could even hear her over the sound of the pounding bass. Val surprised even herself as she whispered, "Please."
He chuckled, and the sound reverberated through his chest and into Val's own spine. His lips drew closer to her ear, brushing her earlobe as he murmured, "A principessa shouldn't beg."
Val's eyes wrenched open. Her blood ran cold.
She knew that voice.
Her wide eyes flashed to the hands that held her hips. Even in the neon green light, she saw the traces of blood beneath his fingernails. This time, when she spun, he released his hold on her and allowed her to face him, practically sharing the same breath.
Matteo.