Someone groped my ass from behind. Damn it. This night was supposed to be a release, a good time, but this asshole just poisoned it. I took another long sip of my strawberry martini, the sweetness doing little to soothe the anger coiling in my gut. I spun around, and just as he opened his mouth, some pathetic excuse no doubt forming on his lips, I drove my fist into his nose. A sickening crunch echoed in the sudden silence. Oh shit, I thought, I broke his fucking nose. Good. Let that be a lesson to him and any other lowlife watching.
"Ah, fuck this bitch!" he roared, clutching his now-crooked nose, his eyes burning into me before he stumbled towards what I assumed was the men's room, leaving a smear of blood on the polished floor. I snatched a tissue from the sticky counter and scrubbed my hand, a silent thank you to my habit of always keeping hand sanitizer in my clutch. Turning slowly, I scanned the room, trying to melt back into the anonymity of the crowd. That's when I noticed them – a group of guys in a nearby booth, their eyes glued to me, especially the blond one with a truly repulsive smirk.
Ugh, I need to get out of here.I drained the rest of my strawberry martini in one go, the sugary liquid doing little to wash away the grime of the encounter. The need to escape this place was a pressing weight in my chest. I caught the bartender's eye and offered a small, tight nod, signaling that I was ready to pay. He sauntered over, wiping down the already spotless counter with a practiced hand. "Another glass for the pretty girl?" he asked, his smile widening, revealing a set of genuinely perfect teeth. There was a warmth in his hazel eyes, a casual friendliness that under normal circumstances, I might have welcomed. He was undeniably cute, with a slightly tousled look to his dark hair and an easygoing charm that radiated off him. But tonight, lingering for even a brief conversation felt like an unbearable burden. "No, just the bill," I replied, forcing a neutral expression, offering a quick, polite smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. He raised a questioning eyebrow, perhaps sensing my haste, but simply nodded and turned to ring up my tab.
I picked up my clutch and turned to leave, only to find the group of guys from the booth had moved, effectively boxing me in. In clubs like this, people usually knew better than to interfere; it could cost them dearly. "Quite a show you put on earlier," one of them drawled, his greasy brown hair catching the dim light. "Come sit with us," the blond guy said, gesturing with a possessive air towards their booth. "Yeah, well, I'd love to, but I'm in a rush," I said, shifting my weight, my eyes flicking towards the exit, my heart hammering against my ribs. I need to escape these motherfuckers. God knows what they might do. "Who said the party was over?" the blond guy sneered, taking a step closer. I don't have time for these assholes. "Well then," I said, a sudden surge of adrenaline sharpening my reflexes, "I guess it's just the beginning then." In the blink of an eye, my foot shot out, connecting squarely with the closest guy's groin. He doubled over with a strangled gasp, and I bolted.
The others were right behind me, their angry shouts echoing in my ears. I sprinted blindly, weaving through the dense crowd, and then slammed directly into someone. "Camilla?" Relief washed over me in a dizzying wave at the sound of his voice, but then a fresh wave of panic crashed down. Shit, I'm not supposed to be here. "What are you doing here?" Pedro asked, his strong hands steadying me as Luigi appeared at my side. I whirled around, searching for the pursuing men, but they were gone. Oh right, Luigi and Pedro. They must have seen them. My twin brother Pedro was the underboss to papá, and my cousin Luigi was the consigliere. A shaky breath escaped my lips. Thank God they were here. Even the most reckless knew to steer clear when they were around, including those assholes who had been chasing me.
"You know you shouldn't be here, principessa. Those motherfuckers – why were they following you?" Luigi's voice was low and dangerous. "They were going to force themselves on me," I admitted, the memory still making my skin crawl. Normally, I would have swallowed my pride and kept quiet, but those animals deserved whatever was coming to them. Knowing my family, that likely meant death. "Huh," Pedro said, his tone flat and final. I knew exactly what that single syllable meant. They were as good as buried. "You need to stay out of trouble, Camilla," Pedro said, his gaze stern. "So what were you guys doing here?" I countered, needing to shift the focus. "You know, the usual stuff. Business," Luigi said smoothly. "Come on, let's go home." I knew I could trust them to keep my little excursion from papá. They disapproved, but they wouldn't rat me out.
As Luigi's car pulled up a little ways from the house, I saw papá outside, deep in conversation with a man I didn't recognize. Perfect timing for a stealth entry. I started to slip towards the back entrance when papá's voice cut through the night air. "Camilla!" Shit. He must have noticed I wasn't at home, which meant he was definitely looking for me. I turned, and I could have sworn I saw Luigi and Pedro exchanging amused grins in the rearview mirror. I walked towards papá, bracing myself for his displeasure, but his expression remained unreadable. "Niccolò, meet my youngest daughter, Camilla." A wave of relief washed over me. Thank God, he just wanted to introduce me. Normally, papá only introduced Isabella and me to guests during formal parties. So who was this man? "Pleasure to meet you," Niccolò said, extending a large hand. I looked up. Damn, he was tall. I took his hand, my own feeling small in his grasp. "Same," I replied, meeting his intense gaze. He studied me with an unnerving focus, as if trying to dissect my very being. Niccolò… the name echoed with a dangerous familiarity. He released my hand and turned back to papá, and then it hit me. This man screamed cosa nostra.