Dark Queen

The atmosphere in the room shifts, and a dominating figure suddenly appears behind the man.

My eyes sheen with tears of anger and humiliation. I travel the length of Luca’s form and lose my breath seeing the murderous look in his shocking blue eyes.

He moves, unwavering with precision, and slams the man’s head down on the table surface.

My mouth drops, gaping in disbelief. A horrid crunching sound makes the girl scream.

Covering her mouth, she scoots back in her chair as the flurry of movement from nearby tables clearing echoes around us. The man is out cold, slumped against the table, blood oozing from his nose, forming a pool by his glass.

The weight of his limp body slowly drags sideways and slides off the chair, landing in a heap at the girl’s feet.

Luca jerks his chin to the two men in black suits situated at the doors. “Take the trash out,” he tells them before he turns to me. “No one makes a scene in my establishment but me. Go home. Take the rest of the night off.”

Thud.

I want to throw my arms around him, thank him for coming to my aid. For having my back. Adrenaline soars through my veins making me jittery. There’s a charge in the air, vibrant and intoxicating.

Twice in one day, someone has made a scene, and both times, I’ve learned there’s violence and darkness inside Luca…maybe darker than my own.

Chapter Twenty-One

Luca

I lost it. The beast I work so hard to subdue, to keep locked inside its cage, ripped the doors off and brought all eyes on me.

Why did it have to be her serving that entitled prick?

His behavior wouldn’t be accepted in any of my businesses regardless, but I wouldn’t have lost my tempter the way I had if it hadn’t been her he was speaking to.

The possession I felt in that moment rippled through my bloodstream, roaring in my ears.

Mine.

She belongs to me.

This is what I needed to avoid.

Goddamn Marcello.

The tables all around have cleared, the scene causing a tsunami effect. “Clean up and re-set,” I bark to the staff members all staring at me.

Pushing through the door to the back, I overhear raised voices from the staff room and know it’s my ballerina.

Going to the door, I listen, gritting my teeth when I hear Simon’s voice. “You can’t get involved with him, Alyssa. You saw what he is—what he did.”

A smashing sounds, something being slammed down.

“And he was the only one who actually did something! I sure as shit didn’t see you coming over to interfere and tell that perverted, disgusting asshole he couldn’t talk to me that way.” She’s angry, her voice breaking.

“I was getting a replacement bottle,” he tries to justify. In reality, he’s a weak boy—she needs a man.

“He didn’t deserve another bottle,” she hollers. “You should have told him to leave.”

Feet shuffle about.

“That’s not my place, I don’t have authority for that.”

“You mean backbone,” she sneers.

I step back as the door swings open. Her eyes clash with mine, the green glistening bright through a sheen of tears.

Her cheeks are flushed. Those fat lips of hers are pouty and in need of kissing. I need her out of my goddamn system—I need her out of here.

“I know you didn’t do it for me, but thank you all the same,” she tells me, her brow dipping low.

I want to grab her and tell her it was for her, push her into that room and force Simon to watch me claim her. Instead, I summon the bastard in me and jerk my chin.

“You need to be more careful when pouring drinks, it seems. Consider this a warning. One more discrepancy—and you find a new place to work.”

Her bottom lip quivers for a second before she schools her features.

I’m an asshole, but it’s necessary, if Simon is warning her to stay clear of me, he must have noticed the attention I pay her, and that’s not good for her.

Straightening her shoulders, she nods. “I understand, Mr. Leto.”

Round and round, Alyssa’s image plays in my damn mind. It’s a compulsion. I can’t concentrate.

Never in my thirty-two years of life has a woman had such an effect on me. All I want to do is claim her. Not allowing myself the indulgence of fucking her is making me stir crazy.

Once Serena’s killer has been dealt with, I’ll be able to relax and take what I want. After a week of making her sore, she’ll be out of my system.

A knock on my office door draws me from my thoughts. “Sir,” Thomas says as he enters, placing a memory stick in front of me.

“There was nothing unusual or worrisome about Simon Greene.” He adds a folder to my desk. “The reports pulled when he was first employed were thorough, and not much has changed. I put everything there is to know in the folder, he’s bland.”