Chapter 7: Alessia (Present Day)

Nico studied me, almost warily, as he led me to the dance floor, away from Stratton and his friends. He had not expected me to intervene, nor expected me to blackmail Stratton into cooperation. Micki had shared that little tidbit as we were dancing, knowing my father was bringing Nico up-to-date with the Russian issue. He said I would probably need it, and he was right. I could tell Nico was thinking, the gears almost visibly turning in his expression. He was always calculating, strategizing. He was likely caught off guard by this new side of me and didn’t quite know what to make of it.

“Dance with me, cara,” he said, a demand, not a question.

I bristled slightly at his authority, but didn’t protest. We settled between the group of couples currently dancing. He pulled me to him, his hold firm and commanding. He glided us effortlessly, his touch possessive in a way that made me push back just for the sake of it.

“You’re stiff, bella,” he murmured against my ear, his voice loud enough to hear over the music. “Relax. Are you nervous?”

I arched a brow and snorted. “Bored.”

His lips twitched as he held back a laugh. “You wound me, amore.”

“I’d rather shoot you.” The image of Nico, his tan skin splattered beautifully with red filled my mind.

“Mm,” he hummed as he spun me, the motion quick and forceful, like he was trying to throw me off balance. I reacted with instinct, not daring to stumble. He pulled me back to him, closer, tighter than before. I could feel the warmth of him seeping between the fabric of our clothes, the hardened planes of his body pressing against me. “Shoot me? How predictable. I thought my wife was a little more interesting than that.”