“Why, though?” he asked.
“Because she’s different,” I answered almost immediately. “She’s not like the others, you know.”
He shifted his gaze between the two women beside him. “No offense, ladies. My cousin’s only trying to make a point.”
I continued, “There’s something about her that just makes me feel….” My voice trailed off into silence, unsure of the word to describe how I felt.
“…at peace?”
I glanced at him and then gave a subtle nod.
He paused, watching me in silence. “I think I know what’s happening here.”
“Keep your opinion to yourself.”
“Okay.” He threw up his hands slightly, his lips pursed to suppress a smile. “But I still think you should make her yours; you already act like she is anyway.”
While he spoke, his voice gradually faded into the background, as did the club’s noise. My attention had shifted to something far more sinister than this conversation.
Rocco’s presence.
I sensed the bastard’s negative energy even before spotting him in the crowd below. I rose to my feet and walked over to the balcony, my footsteps slow and calculated.
“What’s wrong?” Nial got off the couch and joined me, hands on the steel railing.
I didn’t respond right away, but after he followed my gaze, he also spotted the bastard.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “What’s he doing here?”
“Looking for trouble, obviously,” I answered in the same tone, my grip tightening on the polished railing.
He raised his head and met my gaze, his lips parting into a pesky little smirk.
“Boss.” Konstantin appeared behind me, his voice low but laced with a hint of urgency. “We’ve got a situation.”
“I’m aware.” I didn’t take my eyes off Rocco.
He didn’t come alone. Of course, he didn’t. It would be stupid of him.
“I count six men,” Nial said to me, his gaze sweeping over the dance floor below. “Including the two at the entrance.”
There were more than six of them. I personally counted four others, hidden within the crowd. They were all armed, ready for bloodshed. I watched his men pull people out of the way as he walked toward the stairs leading up to my private booth.
I had five men with me, skilled and armed to the teeth. All around the club, the others lurked in the shadows, watching, waiting for my signal. If Rocco were foolish enough to start a war right here and now, he’d lose.
“Artur…Artur…Artur…” Rocco called softly as he walked toward me, his voice smooth and venomous. “Tell me. What brings you to this side of town?” His tone was heavy with the Italian accent.
“He owes you no explanation,” Nial replied.
Rocco halted in front of us, a stick of tobacco pressed between his lips. “Oh, don’t tell me this clown speaks on your behalf.”
I locked my jaw, my fingers balling into fists on my sides.
“Clown?” Nial chuckled, a deep, threatening sound that betrayed the smile on his face. “Say that again.” He stepped closer. “I dare you.”
The atmosphere was tense. Men reached for their guns, and the women raced down the steps.
“Temper, temper,” Rocco teased, wearing a mocking grin. “I’m not here to fight.”