Polo chuckles, pressing his hard body right against mine. His grip is tight and as he starts to twirl us around the room, I know I can’t get away from him.
I clench my jaw and let him continue to manipulate me across the floor like a puppeteer. I let out the smallest shriek when he suddenly dips me. I swear my head nearly brushes the floor and I feel faint as he raises me back up completely.
He pushes against me as he sends us spinning in a circle and bile rises in my throat as my vision swims.
“You’re going to make her sick, Messano,” an unfamiliar voice says.
“She’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think she will. How about you go fetch her a drink and I’ll keep her company.”
I blink my eyes, trying to get rid of the dizziness so I can see who it is trying to keep me company. When my gaze finally settles, the first thing I see is Polo and the calculating look on his face, the way his chin is slightly inclined.
“Hmm, I don’t think the Costas will mine as long as you keep your hands respectable,” he says after a moment, looking over my shoulder.
I move to turn to see who it is he’s talking to, but he’s already spinning me again. I land with an oomph into a hard chest and a woodsy cologne fills my nostrils. I have to recline my head back to see the face of the man I’m now pressed up against.
Oh.
His face is handsome, dark stubble covering what I’m sure is a strong jawline. His black hair is short, falling just past his ears. He looks to be in his late thirties and there’s something vaguely familiar about him. I can’t figure it out until I see the danger lurking in his clear blue eyes and I realize exactly where I’ve seen him before.
“You’re Daria’s brother,” it comes out like a statement even though I mean for it to be a question.
He lifts a thick brow and I realize his hands are on my waist even though he isn’t making an attempt to actually dance with me.
“I am.” His lips twitch slightly at the corners and it only makes his face even more gorgeous. “But you can just call me Abramo.”
Abramo Accardi.
At one of the other parties the Costas had dragged me to, I’d only got a slight view of the man from a distance. He’d been about to get into a scuffle with Maximo over his cousin Isabella.
I’d learned from Enzo that he and Maximo often share Isabella. At the time, I’d thought she’d have to be the bravest woman, or the most idiotic, to willingly come between those two.
But then the thing in the stock room had happened, and I’d realised she wasn’t brave or stupid, but a genius. Because the orgasm that had rocked me as Enzo’s fingers twisted in me and his tongue danced across my clit, all while Maximo had fucked him from behind…
A shiver runs through me at the thought, but I still when I find Abramo looking down at me curiously.
There isn’t any malice on his face, but I’m not stupid. Everyone in this room is dangerous and I know for a fact that this man is a mafia boss, which means he goes into the category of most dangerous.
I clear my throat, picking my words wisely. It doesn’t seem like Polo will be returning any time soon and other than Daria, he’s the only person in this room who I know doesn’t really seem to be interested in harming me. Maybe.
“You were going to fight Maximo for touching your cousin, but now your hands are on me,” I say after a moment, the words slow.
Again, Abramo’s lips twitch and there seems to be another face under the mask he’s wearing, one of amusement and mirth, that threatens to push through. But he lets that neutral expression return to his face as he shrugs a shoulder. “I respect the women I love,” he says, “and Maximo respects no one. I want him as far away from my cousin as possible.” His fingers flex slightly on my waist, a gentle pressure that isn’t painful. “I figure I could give him a taste of his own medicine tonight.”
I tense up, bile rising in my throat. Shit, I should have known better. My eyes frantically move over the room for someone to rescue me but there still isn’t a Costa to be seen.
“Don’t worry,” Abramo says and the softness in his tone brings my gaze up to him. “I’m not going to hurt you.” His words seem to be sincere but I still tense up slightly. “My sister seems to be fond of you and frankly, I have no reason to start a real war with the Costas at the moment.” His eyes flicker over my shoulders and again, there’s that half smile. “I just wanted to play a little game with Maximo.”
He moves his feet, pulling me with him and I have no choice but to grab onto his shoulders to keep from falling. He continues to move and while what we’re doing is not dancing, I suppose it’s close enough.
He turns, polite enough to let me move my own feet, unlike Polo.
A gaze bores into the side of my head and I turn to find Maximo watching us. Polo is standing a few feet behind him and they’re both holding shot glasses. Maximo’s hard gaze moves over me before his eyes stop on where I’m holding onto Abramo.
My limbs go shaky.
Maximo takes a step forward in our direction before he pauses and his gaze moves behind me.