CHAPTER 29
DOMENICO
The bass pounded through the walls like a second pulse. Bodies moved on the dance floor, glittering under dim lights, oblivious to the blood drying beneath my fingernails.
I needed a distraction.
The private lounge above the club gave me the perfect view of the chaos below. A girl—tall, dark hair, curves that knew how to work a room—caught my eye before I even sat down. She clocked the power on my face, the weight of it in the sharpness of my jaw, the cut of my suit. She smiled like she already knew what her night would look like.
I didn’t smile back.
She came anyway. Of course she did.
She slid into the seat beside me like she belonged there, her hand brushing my thigh. “Don Domenico,” she purred. “You look tense.”
I poured myself a drink and didn’t answer. Sh
