Alessandro DeLuca

“Me not being the woman for you.”

Smiling, I reply, “Oh, you’re the woman for me. The perfect woman for me. I never make a mistake about that kind of thing.”

She doesn’t know me, so she wouldn’t know how much I love a challenge.

“Only time will tell,” she says, grabbing her bag and standing. “Good night, Mr. DeLuca.”

“Good night, Mila Campbell.”

She stops. I can tell by the stiffening of her posture that I know her name has shaken her.

Turning back to look at me, she asks, “How’d you know my name?”

Smiling, I reply, “I own this club.”

She thinks about that for just a moment, then stalks off. I’m sure she realizes it would be easy for me to ask one of my bouncers her name. After all, she would have shown her ID each time she stepped into my club. Everyone is carded unless I know them.

I watch as she walks through the dancing crowd, her hips and ass beckoning me to follow her. I won’t, though. I’ll bide my time.

I click my earpiece and call Bones. “Hey, did you see the woman I was with at the table?”

“Yeah, Boss. The one you’ve been watching?”

“Yeah. Get someone on her. Find out where she’s staying and make sure she’s safe.”

“Got it, Boss.”

“Mr. DeLuca, can I get you something to eat?” one of the servers stops by to ask.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

Resting a hand on my shoulder, she asks, “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

She’s a beautiful, mid-twenty-something girl with long, dark hair down her back and a fresh, innocent face. But I know that she’s anything but. Unfortunately, tonight she’s not doing anything for me.

“No, sweetheart.”

She walks away to take care of another customer, and I know she doesn’t take it personally. At any given time, there could be any woman at my side. But that’s all about to change if my instincts serve me right.