Chapter 8

Isabella

I snuck out without Vance noticing. He's one of the best bodyguards out there, but I'm better at sneaking around than he is at guarding. He'll kill me when he finds the car gone and has to search for me.

It concerns me that I struggled to get off with his hand, even with his direct touch on my clit. But I came so hard while grinding the length of his thigh.

I'm sure my future husband won't understand that at all. He'll probably hate me for being unable to come from his monster cock and expressive hands. Puke. Maybe he won't have much of a sex drive and I'll be left alone to hump my gold-woven pillows.

Music thumps as I enter the club. My black dress stops mid-thigh, leaving my long legs exposed above my black heels. I get a drink, chug it, order a second, and bring it along to the dance floor. I squeeze into the crowd of people.

My eyes snap to a man in the corner. He's not Vance, but he's watching me just as closely. He's Ronaldo, Antonio's brother.

He's as tall, dark, and handsome as his brother, and just as crazy too. I swallow the lump in my throat. He's one of the people Vance is supposed to protect me from.

If I stay within the crowd, I'll be safe. It's the leaving that will be the challenging part.

I rub my hand down my thigh, longing for my pistol, but this dress was too tight to conceal it. I hope that's not a fatal mistake.

Ronaldo is vehemently against this marriage and my family. Their father is blind to our rivalry because of the prospect of more money. My father is blinded too. Antonio's father told Ronaldo to stand down, to leave me alone, but my father didn't think he'd take a seat.

And it doesn't appear he has.

Sweat gathers around my hairline. My plan to dance with a stranger evaporates into the stuffy club air. Even then, I start dancing, trying to fake the confidence I need to get out of here alive.

I feel naked because I left my phone at home so that Vance couldn't track me. Now I wish I'd let him. I long for his presence when faced with a man who wants to destroy me to keep his family's bloodline pure and their wealth intact.

When I look up again, I meet Ronaldo's dark eyes across the dance floor. They bore into mine. He steps forward, melding with the crowd until I only see the top of his head moving through the waves of people and flashing lights.

For every step he takes forward, I take a step back, but I'm not quick enough. Bodies behind me slow each movement, and I keep looking back toward the door. Going outside would be suicide, though.

My heart thunders in my chest as I knock into a dense group of people, spilling someone's drink on myself. A flurry of curse words spews from faceless people behind me. I can only see what's directly in front of me because fear has blinded me to all else.

I take another step back, and my spine meets with an immovable force. My heart sinks into my gut.

"Daddy's here," says a familiar voice.

My heart crawls back into my chest as I turn and see Vance. I've never been so excited to see his stupid face.

"Ronaldo is here," I say, gesturing with my eyes.

"I should leave you with him since you think you can protect yourself," he says.

I cock my hip because I know damn well he won't let anything happen to me.

I turn in time to see Ronaldo emerge from the crowd, his hard eyes on me. They widen when he sees Vance behind me. Everyone knows who Vance is. His reputation and skills precede him.

Vance brings his hand to his side, easing his jacket away to give Ronaldo a glimpse of the pistol. He looks big and terrifying, and I'm fucking turned on by it. Why does this drama seem to go right to my pussy? It makes my clit throb, and I switch the weight on my feet, my thighs rubbing together and sending a pleasurable warmth between my legs.

"Hey, Ronaldo!" I call out, sending him a cocky wave that can only come from having someone like Vance behind me.

Ronaldo's lip curls.

"Must you poke bears?" Vance snarls, tugging me into him.

I turn and offer him a flirty smile that comes from the heat between my thighs. "Yes."

He's my favorite bear to poke, after all.

"Let's go," he commands.

He wraps his hand around my arm and drags me toward the door, his eyes jumping between Ronaldo and me as he guides me through the crowd. His other hand remains on his pistol until the door closes behind us, and even then, it hovers close.

Just as we reach my car door, heavy footsteps come from behind us. Vance instinctively gets between me and Ronaldo and draws his pistol, keeping it at his side.

"Calm down, security guard," Ronaldo says, his hands rising defensively.

Vance growls and clenches his pistol grip. Calling Vance a security guard is laughable. I know it's meant to offend him, but come on. He knows he's so much more than that. He has to.

"Get going, Ronaldo," Vance says, his chest rising.

"This is a family matter." He turns to me. "We need to talk, Isabella."

"Talk to her father," Vance says. "That's how you people seem to work."

Ronaldo takes a step toward Vance. "Our fathers are in denial if they think this will work. I won't let Angotti blood taint ours. You dogs don't even deserve a scrap of our wealth."

I put my hands against the car to keep them from trembling. No matter how good Vance is, can he really fight a family as powerful as the Vendettis?

Vance takes a heavy step toward Ronaldo and lines up the pistol's barrel with Ronaldo's head. "I don't give a fuck about your family feuds. My job is to protect her, and I will do anything to keep her safe, so if you could just fuck right off, that would be great."

Ronaldo swallows. He surely has a gun, but he could never draw before Vance pulls the trigger. "This isn't over, Isabella, and your babysitter won't always be there."

Their eyes stay on each other until Ronaldo finally drops his gaze and takes off across the busy parking lot.

"See you around," he calls over his shoulder.

"Thank fuck." I sigh as I lean back against the car.

Vance turns around, his glare hard and angry. Deservedly. "You could have gotten yourself killed tonight, Isabella, and yet I get the terrible feeling you still haven't learned and you'll still scurry off the moment you get a chance."

"I—"

"No, don't. You are impeding my ability to do my job. I will not lose my fucking head because of you. I won't get killed because an immature brat had to go out and get drunk and dance and find some fucking leg to stick between hers."

My cheeks flush. But worse, his heat-filled words warm the space between my legs. My panties are soaked. I already know that. My eyes round with a fueled desire as he holsters his pistol.

"Get in the car," he snaps.

I sit in the passenger seat and cross my legs, enjoying the friction. "How'd you find me?" I ask.

"There are only three places I thought you'd run off to. Luckily, I checked this one first, or you'd probably be stuffed in Ronaldo's trunk by now and the wedding would be off."

Yeah, he's probably right. And I hate that.

I also hate how thankful I am and how much I want to show him my appreciation with my hand. Or my mouth.