SIMONE'S POV
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Nicholas went completely still, his golden eyes fixed on Rossi with a predatory focus.
"I'm sorry," Nicholas said, his voice deceptively calm. "Could you repeat that?"
Rossi, apparently too drunk or too stupid to recognize the danger, smiled broadly. "I said perhaps the signorina would like to discuss some private business with me. She is quite lovely, and I'm sure she knows how to be... accommodating."
What happened next took less than five seconds.
Nicholas moved with fluid grace, grabbing a steak knife from the table and driving it through Rossi's hand, pinning it to the white tablecloth.
Rossi screamed, but the sound was cut short when Nicholas's other hand closed around his throat.
"Let me make
