Nicoli: A Forbidden Romance (Dark Sovereign Book 4)

I’m leaning against my Maserati when the limousine pulls up to the curb. I grind my cigarette into the pavement and march toward the long-ass black car.

Maximo emerges first, his dark eyes carefully scanning the area before opening the door for my twin brother. As if I haven’t already taken inventory of everything and everyone around us.

“I was hoping you’d come to your senses and take the girls home.”

Alexius slaps a palm on my shoulder. “No such luck, brother.”

“Tell me you stopped at the boutique to get Mira a different dress.”

“That woman is determined to make your life hell, and not even I have the power to stop her.”

“Pussy,” I bite out, and Alexius smirks as he holds out his hand, helping Leandra step out of the limo. At least she’s wearing a dress. Mira, on the other hand, is wearing a…I don’t know what it is, but it sure as fuck ain’t a dress.

Mira’s long, slender leg appears as she puts her heel on the asphalt, the curve of her calf smooth and hypnotic. It’s like a goddamn movie or a shampoo commercial, and I’m waiting for her to step out and wave her blonde locks from side to side in slow motion. And apparently, shampoo commercials now turn me on because my cock is fucking furious.

As she slides out of the back seat, I catch a glimpse of her black lace panties peeking from between her legs. The sight wrecks my motherfucking balls.

I snap my gaze all around us, ready to cut out the eyes of any asshole who caught a peek of what I just saw. Possession knocks hard against my skull, my pulse racing and heart thumping, ready to kill and slaughter.

Mira’s forest green eyes fall on mine, and I can barely breathe as she shimmies the tight fabric of her red dress down her thighs, her movements powerful and sensual while keeping her stare fixed on mine. My muscles twitch in anticipation, my dick swollen and hard for this woman. She knows what she’s doing to me. She’s playing a game, but she doesn’t know the rules. But I’m confident she’ll know the number one rule before the night ends, and that’s to never fuck with the lion’s balls. That’s me. I’m the lion.

I remove my suit jacket and wrap it around her shoulders as she passes me.

She stiffens. “What are you doing?”

“Doing the gentlemanly thing by adding a layer to your outfit.”

She shrugs out from under the jacket, swatting my hands away. “You wouldn’t know chivalry if it hit you in the face.”

“Believe me, Hummingbird. You’d rather want me to cover you up than cut out a man’s spleen.”

“Don’t call me that.” The silent warning in her eyes is fiery hot. “And I’d appreciate it if you could keep your distance tonight.”

“Look at my lips, sweetheart,” I say, pointing at my mouth, leveling her with a stare. “Not a…fucking…chance.”

“Ugh.” She whirls around, walking so fast her heels sound like firecrackers hitting the pavement.

I stay no more than a few paces behind her, my eyes taking in every face around us. Everyone knows who we are, because the moment they see us, they stand to the side and avert their eyes. Smart.

Maximo leads us to a private entrance on the side of the club, and it’s an explosion of sound the moment we walk into After Dark. Bass vibrates through the floor, pumping a rhythmic beat in the dark and smoky hall. The music is a narcotic for the warm, writhing bodies on the dance floor, consumed by the electric atmosphere. Neon laser lights streak across the checkered dance floor, reflecting in the mirrored walls to create a kaleidoscope of colors throughout the double-story club. In the center of it is the bar with luminous blue lights around it, the bartenders flinging bottles, mixing drinks, and sporting glow-in-dark body paint on their bare chests. It’s like a goddamn unicorn pissed all over this place.

I spot a few familiar faces of men on our security team. They’re blending in, pretending to be partygoers, sipping their virgin drinks while keeping their eyes peeled for potential threats. It sets me at ease knowing there’s backup, but it doesn’t stop me from being glue on Mira’s ass.

I glance up at the Ferrero brothers sitting in a booth on the top level, floor-to-ceiling glass allowing them to look down at their flock whenever their God complex strikes. And as if right on cue, Nunzio Ferrero steps up to the window, dressed in black, thick gold chains hanging around his neck, hair slicked back, and chest puffed up like a fucking peacock. Fucker can be glad it was his father who ordered the hit on Mira’s parents and not him, which is the only reason he’s still breathing now that he’s taken over the family empire. One of his sheep leans in and says something in his ear. Nunzio looks down at us, a dead giveaway that his bodyguard just informed him of our arrival.

“Nicoli Del Rossa?”

I turn to face this bald asshole with an earpiece plugged into his cauliflower ear. And that right there is why I quit the wrestling team in high school.

“Who’s asking?” I widen my stance, ready to break bones if this guy so much as smells like trouble.

“Mr. Ferrero would like to offer you one of the private lounges.”

“No, thank you,” Mira chips in, waving him off dismissively.

“Excuse me.” I grab her wrist, tugging her close. “He wasn’t talking to you.”

“Look at my lips, sweetheart.” She lifts her chin, and my gaze immediately falls to her blood-red mouth, that perfect Cupid’s bow tempting the fuck out of me. “I…don’t…care.”

I pull her close, slamming her body into mine, her breath swooshing across those pretty fucking lips of hers. “I would caution you against fucking with me, woman.”

“I won’t. You have Paula for that, remember?”

“What I do remember is you fucking her mouth like her tongue was my dick.”

“Yours?” she smirks. “It wasn’t your dick I was picturing.”

Jealousy thickens my gut, and I’m two seconds away from hauling her ass out of here and taking her to the Antarctic, where she’ll be forced to wear layer upon layer upon layer of clothing. It’s a crazy plan, but it doesn’t make it any less appealing.

Mira takes a step back, and her gaze darts over me with a sassy upturned curve of her lips. Little minx is testing me, trying to fuck with my head. Only she doesn’t have to try this hard because she’s been fucking with my head since she came on Paula’s face.

With one last haughty look, she blows me a mocking kiss, her eyes swimming with a cattiness I’ve never seen in her before. I almost laugh at her audacity. Yet secretly I’m enjoying it far more than I should. Her little game is like heroin to my monster.

Luckily, my twin brother picked up what I was putting down mentally and accepted the wrestler’s offer for a private lounge. Mira doesn’t look at me as we weave through the crowd. She’d hate for me to see her sulk after her short-lived victory.

I straighten my suit jacket sleeves, stepping next to Alexius as we walk through the club. Our presence demands attention, and a sea of heads turn to stare at us. Those who aren’t gawking are dancing in tight spaces. The scent of sweat, cologne, and sex cling to the smoke that drifts from the floor up to the air.

Mira is behind me. I know this because I can feel her eyes stabbing the back of my skull. Finally, we reach the stairs, and I stand to the side, letting her go first because there is no chance in hell anyone else is walking behind her only to gawk at her ass while she sways her hips up these steps.

Bad idea. Terrible idea. Because now I’m the motherfucker gawking at her ass. I’m biting my bottom lip the entire way up as she sways her hips hypnotically. The red fabric accentuates her curves, the smooth skin of her thighs glowing under the pulsing lights. And those calves—Jesus, I want them wrapped around my waist while I make her sing for me with slow, deep thrusts, feeling her virginity tear around my thick girth.

The things I’d do to her—my God.

We walk into the private lounge decked with black leather couches and gold-framed glass tables. The walls are a deep shade of sultry mulberry, the club music tearing through the glass barriers. Waitresses in black mini-dresses slink around, their hair tied in sleeked-back ponytails. Caelian is on them like a cat on a rat the second he walks through the entrance. I would probably be, too, if I weren’t so damn invested in Mirabella.

“Thanks,” I say to Alexius as the women grab some champagne.

“For what?”

“Don’t be coy.”

He snickers. “Did you really think I’d let them come to this club and not have them safely tucked away?”

I frown at him questioningly. “You arranged this?”

“Of course. I sent word to Nunzio, saying it’s a special occasion. And then I also suggested that tonight might be a good time to discuss a few things. You know—” he shrugs “—possible future endeavors.”

“What? You want to do business with the Ferreros? Are you insane?”

“Relax. Just because we’re discussing possible business benefits doesn’t mean any sort of commitment from us. Besides, staying close to your enemies is always a good idea.”

“I don’t like it.” I grab a glass of whiskey from a waitress’s tray as she strolls by. “Any kind of conversation with these fuckers has the potential to turn into a dildo right up our asses.”

“Let me worry about the Ferreros. You worry about keeping greedy hands off Mirabella.”

“Fuck me,” I mutter, slamming the whiskey back. At this rate, I’ll need a tank full of alcohol to get through this night without murdering someone…or slipping my dick inside her.

Mira is leaning against the private bar, the yellow lights creating a halo around her hourglass shape. I’ve never seen her this drenched in seduction, her eyes sparkling with mischief and excitement—a lethal combination for a man like me. I’d be a stupid fuck if I tried to convince myself that my desire for her isn’t growing to new heights. I’ve wanted her for the longest time, but it’s never been this debilitating. It’s like I’m an animal, and Mira is in fucking heat—a primal lust stronger than any other instinct. How do I fight this? How do I stay away from her when images of her naked body are on replay in my head? When I’ve had a taste of what it would be like to claim her?

I’m entranced as she empties her champagne flute and links her pinky with Leandra’s. “Let’s go dance.”

Alexius wraps his fingers possessively around Leandra’s elbow. “I don’t think so.”

“We’re just dancing,” Mira says. “It’s not like we’re stripping.”

“My wife is staying right here with me.”

“I just want to have a good time with my best friend on my birthday. Is that too much to ask?”

Alexius’ dark brows curve inward, and Leandra and I notice he’s about to lose his shit.

Leandra lets go of Mira’s pinky and slips in next to her husband. “Maybe later, Mira.”

“Oh, my God,” she exclaims. “How is it that I spent eighteen years in this family and only realize now that you’re all assholes?”

She’s stomping toward the door when I slide in behind her, wrapping my fingers around the back of her neck, squeezing just enough to make my intentions known. “You’re pissed at me. You’re hurting, and I get that.” I step up, pressing my chest against her back, and I feel her shudder. “But this new spoiled brat attitude of yours will only get you into trouble. So, just. Stop.”

She stands completely still, and I can see her chest rise and fall as I glance down over her shoulder.

“This isn’t me being a spoiled brat, Nicoli. This is me being a woman scorned.”

She leaves toxic energy behind as she walks off, out the door and down the stairs. Everything is spinning out of control—her, me, us, my resolve to stay away from her.

My heart races as I watch her step onto the dance floor, slipping past swaying bodies. The thought of any part of another man touching her—whether it’s his back, his shoulder, or his goddamn foot—is forcing venom through my system. It’s poisoning me from the inside, its toxicity cutting through the thin tether of my control.

I don’t know when it happened, but somehow, somewhere, my instinct to protect her morphed into a possession that’s stronger than my need to keep her from figuring out the truth.

I’m standing at the top of the stairs watching Mira like a hawk when Nunzio Ferrero decides to grace us with his presence. “Nicoli Del Rossa.”

I’m not amused. “Nunzio.”

His gold chain glints as the colored lasers swirl around us. “I never thought I’d see the day the Del Rossa brothers would set foot in one of my clubs.”

“That makes two of us.”

A sly grin appears on his face. He gives me that Sicilian mob boss vibe—the kind women drop their panties for, and the kind men like me just want to plant lead in his chest for.

I gesture toward Alexius, standing inside the lounge with his arm snaked around his wife’s waist. “You should probably go speak to my brother. He’s the diplomat.”

“And you?”

I smirk. “I’m the one he sends when talking is no longer an option.”

“So, you’re the dog on a leash.” Nunzio’s eyes gleam with arrogance.

“And I’d love to show you why.” It’s a challenge, and he knows it.

My eyes fall on Mira dancing, and Nunzio follows my gaze.

“Ah. I can see why you’re so tense. Your wife is stunning. Sure to catch the eye of every man here.” His voice drips with innuendo, and it makes it impossible to react. I don’t even care about telling him she’s not my wife. All I care about is slitting his fucking throat.

I’m about to reach for the knife tucked away at my side when Alexius intervenes. “Nicoli, why don’t you go to the dance floor and check on Mira.”

He tramples me with a warning glare, and I clench my fists before turning away, knowing I’m about to start a war in this club if I don’t leave now.

Mira is dancing, her eyes closed and back arched, her head tipped back, showering in sensuality, moving in a trance-like state. Her hips swing in the rhythm of the music, her breasts bounce with every move, and her body responds seductively to the beat, all provoking my urge to touch her. But instead of throwing myself at her, I watch her from a distance, entranced by her. The war inside me has never raged as it’s doing now—a war between me wanting to protect her and to claim her.

Some fucker wearing a white shirt and a death warrant around his neck slips in behind her. A tornado of flames blasts through me, and I stop breathing. He better not fucking touch—motherfucker! He touched her. His hands settle on her hips, and my primal need to keep her from predators looking to touch what’s mine…

Fuck! She’s not mine. She’s not mine. She’s not. Mine.

Fuck this shit.

I’m shoving sweaty bodies out of my way until I reach her and grab her arms, dragging her off the dance floor.

“Nicoli, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

We reach the far end of the club, and I spin her around to face me as I pin her shoulders against the mirrored wall, my chest heaving. “Do you want to start a goddamn massacre?”

She sneers, trying to wrench out my grasp, her glare so angered it almost makes me flinch. “Who do you think you are? You don’t own me.”

“Says who?”

“Me! You had your chance, Nicoli, and you fucking blew it. So let go of me.”

“No.”

My fingers grip her harder, and I lean closer. Our lips are mere inches apart as my eyes bore into hers. “You’re punishing me.”

“You deserve it.”

“Why? Because I fucked her instead of you?”

“Fuck you!” Her eyes are wild, and her red lips are pulled tight. But I don’t move. Instead, I slide my fingers along her chest and encircle the base of her neck. Her chest rises. She’s trembling beneath my touch, her breaths coming out in shallow, uneven pants. Desire is seeping from her pores. I can feel it. Smell it. Fucking taste it.

Forcing my thigh between her legs, her lips part as I lean my forehead against hers, looking down at her delectable mouth. “Tell me, Hummingbird,” I rasp. “How much will you hate me if I fuck you right here, right now?”

“You won’t dare.”

I jerk my knee deeper against her sex, her shoes barely touching the ground. “Try me.”

“Why now? After all these years, why now?”

“Because it turns out, your hate turns me the fuck on.”

My hands have her pinned in place as I take full advantage and press my lips forcefully against hers. As she groans, my heart thunders, and desire courses through me in angry waves. The faint smell of smoke mingles with her sweet scent, feeding my hunger into a frenzy. Holding her gaze, I pull back slightly before crashing our mouths together again with a ferocity that speaks of years of restraint finally being broken down.

Drawing away once more, we’re both gasping for air while the heat radiates between us like an inferno ready to consume everything in its path. The primal craving burning inside me is undeniable, and I can no longer control it. I don’t want to control it. Not anymore.

“Don’t you dare kiss me again,” she whimpers, out of breath.

“If I do, what are you going to do about it?”

“Scream.”

“Promise?” I roll my hips, pressing my hard cock against her hip, and she bites her bottom lip. “I would kill to hear you scream for me, Hummingbird.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have what it takes to make me scream.”

“Challenge accepted.”

Our lips crash together again as if nothing will ever keep them apart. The energy that hums around us is too potent to deny, our kiss a flurry of frenzied passion, tongues lapping, and teeth nipping. The music fuses with the powerful lust that sings between us, wrapping us up in a rhythm that’s no longer controlled but crazed. Our kiss isn’t anything like the one shared in her shower. That kiss was pain. This one…it’s lust. It’s desire. It’s unstoppable.

I lose myself in her, unable to control my need. And by the way she weaves her fingers in my hair, pulling me deeper into her, I know she’s lost in me, too. Nothing else matters as I taste her, feel her, and let the heat between us ignite.

I tear my lips from hers, then grip her cheeks with my fingers, her pretty mouth puckered and swollen. “Say it,” I demand hoarsely. “Tell me you hate me.”

“I hate you.”