Ironcouncil, p.11
Ace of Diamonds, page 11
I can hear his cane clicking behind me, and I know the party is about to get extremely interesting.
Chapter Eighteen
Lyriope
I cannot believe this is actually happening. This man—Nick Hudson—has the balls to come tonight, knowing that Bryant doesn’t want him here. He is even more crazy when he follows me inside and walks right up to my father as if it’s the most ordinary thing in the world to do so.
Is he absolutely insane, or just so arrogant that he believes he is invincible? To not only show his face as a party guest but to do so standing in front of Bryant Morelli himself is just plain reckless and clearly lacking any regard for his own life.
“Bryant,” Nick says, locking eyes with my father.
“What are you doing here?” Bryant asks in a calm but almost deadly voice.
“Enjoying the festivities of course. I’m so pleased that the Sidorovs invited me.”
I watch Bryant’s eyes dart to Sidorov who is standing and laughing boisterously across the room. They then narrow in on Nick who is now looking directly at me with a devilish look in his eyes and that Cheshire grin that tells me he is up to no good.
And then… he reaches out to me. Oh God, why is he doing this?
Staring down at Nick’s extended hand in disbelief, and then up into his eyes as he asks, “May I have this dance?” I struggle not to laugh at the absurdity of this man and how foolish he is being.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Bryant says in a low tone that only Nick and I can hear. “I told you to stay the hell away from her.”
“I’ve never been a man to follow orders, Bryant. You should know this by now.”
“Leave.”
He nods. “I’ll leave. But first, I’d like to dance with your daughter.” He extends his arms to the guests all around. “It would be such a shame to cause a scene at this party. No need for unpleasantness.” He then smiles, leans casually against his cane, and adds, “It’s not like her soon-to-be husband is here to witness it or anything. Where is good ol’ boy Pavel anyway?”
I notice something in the way Nick smiles at me that there is more to that question. Does he know where Pavel is? Did he do something to Pavel? Nick is still a mystery to me in so many ways, but I’m getting good at reading him. There’s something… fishy about the way he asked that question.
“One dance,” my father snaps. “And then get the fuck out of here.”
I don’t want to dance, but I know I have zero choice in this matter. I need to dance simply to attempt to extinguish the flames searing between the two men. Nick is stoking a dangerous fire, and I want to get him as far away from Bryant as I can.
Taking his hand, Nick leans his cane up against a table, then leads the way to the dance floor. A big part of me is grateful for the reprieve from being forced to stand by my father’s side all evening doing nothing else. Nick places his hand on my lower back, and gently guides me to an empty spot on the floor amongst the dancing couples. A melodic waltz masters the air as Nick spins me around to face him. Grabbing one of my hands in his and then placing his other on my upper back, he presses his chest to mine, clearly understanding how to handle the dance of the elite. I have no idea how to dance like this, but with how firmly Nick is holding me, I have a feeling all I will have to do is follow his lead. So fitting considering I’ve never felt safer in my life than when I’ve followed his lead.
As we begin to take slow steps to the right, set to the rhythm of the music, I ask, “Do you have a death wish, Mr. Hudson?”
“A dance with you could be worth it,” he counters as he slowly spins me around in an effortless motion.
“I’m not worth dying over,” I say, slightly taken aback by his declaration.
Nick’s fingers lower down to my lower back, mimicking hot wax dripping down a candle. His strength and strong position make it easy for me to dance along, never wanting to be free from his arms again. He not only knows how to dance; he knows how to do it well.
“You are worth so much more. The sad thing is you have spent your entire life around people who make you feel less.” He sweeps me across the room with expert grace, making eye contact as we move toward the left. His eyes hold mine, even as our bodies move.
Chest to chest, I can feel the beat of his heart.
Body to body, I can feel his warmth.
So close, so intimate, yet so very distant. We are destined to be apart but connected only by music and the provocative steps of the dance.
“In another life, you and I could have really been something special,” I confess.
“I only have this life. I learned a long time ago to make the best out of this one life we have. I don’t want what-ifs.”
I’d have pulled away this very minute had he not twirled me around, bringing me back to him slightly dizzy, seductively connecting our lower halves. I can feel the muscles of his biceps as he holds me in place. I can feel his breath as he looks down upon me. Such power, such dominance in this exotic and erotic dance move.
I thought dancing a waltz was old and stuffy.
Nick is proving otherwise.
He towers over me, yet holds me securely in place, never once wavering or threatening to let me go. The display of control sends a small shiver through me as he masters my body to the beguiling notes of the music.
Moving me across the dance floor, feeling a bit light-headed, I say, “You are a madman.”
“You know me so well.”
“What do you hope to get from tonight?” I ask, glancing over toward Bryant who is preoccupied in a heated discussion with his men. He isn’t paying attention to even a moment of the dance.
“To see you again.”
“I thought Wonderland was the last time I’d see you,” I admit. “It’s been a couple of weeks and you—”
“Haven’t made a visit?” He interrupts with a smile. “Did you miss me?”
I don’t want to admit just how much I did, but I can’t lie to Nick. “Yes.”
“Besides,” he says. “I have to keep an eye on the woman who could be carrying my baby.”
My face heats at the memory of not only having unprotected sex, but the fact that he and I had both pushed his seed inside of me to…
“No risk of that,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? So sure?”
“A woman has a way of knowing,” I say, not wanting to go into the exact details.
“Maybe we should try again.”
“Nick…”
“Lyriope…”
“We don’t need a baby to add to this mess.”
“Maybe I like messy.”
“Well, I don’t. I want nice and clean and shiny. Sadly, that isn’t in my cards.”
“We could leave right now,” he suggests, the words like balm soothing a burn inside of me.
“And go where? Antarctica? If they found us in Italy, they’ll find us anywhere.”
“I have a yacht ready to sail away with us to the furthest edge of the sea. All you have to say is yes, and we can leave here right now.”
I stop cold in my tracks at the suggestion. Is he truly serious? Run away? Hide again? A yacht?
But we’d be together…
“Keep dancing,” he orders softly to which I obey. “Give no one a reason to grow suspicious.”
“Do you really think it’s as easy as that?” Saying the words becomes a struggle as my throat threatens to close shut. “And why? Why would you want to leave your house, your life, everything? All to hide on a boat in the middle of an ocean.”
“Because you’re mine. And you know it.”
“But the arranged marriage,” I whisper, no longer noticing that I do the steps of the waltz like a robot.
He squeezes me closer, as if trying to calm me without others knowing his intention. Our dance conceals so much already. “Tell me the truth, Lyriope. Is this the life you want? Are you getting what you always dreamed from your father and the Morelli family?”
“No,” I admit. “I’ve considered running away, to be honest. It’s awful. Everything is awful.”
He never once falters in our dance steps, spinning me away, only to pull me close again. “Then run away with me.”
“But I can’t do this to you,” I say, feeling like my knees will buckle even as Nick continues to lead me gracefully in the dance. “This was what my mother did to us every time things didn’t go her way—which was all the time. We ran. We’d escape reality in hopes of finding the dream. The thing is, we never found the dream. It was a constant search with no happily ever after in sight.”
Straightening my shoulders and strengthening my spine, I swallow back all the feelings of hope that I could indeed leave this awful mess behind and be whisked off into the sunset by my knight in shining armor. I could be safe. I could be free. But that is not my story. My story is one of a bastard child on the quest for finding approval from a father who never claimed her. I need to remember all the past mistakes of my mother and not repeat them. I have no choice but to remain focused. Being rescued by Nick will not end this nightmare. Nick can’t give me the happily ever after as badly as I’d like to have that happen.
“If I disappear, there will be a war.”
Nick tightens his grip on my hand, and his jaw clenches. “There will be a war no matter what you do. You might as well be happy. Find joy where you can. With me.”
“I’m sorry, Nick. I’m so sorry. But you really should leave now.”
Breaking our physical connection, I spin on my heels and walk away before I can change my mind. Walking away from my salvation is harder than anything I have ever done.
Chapter Nineteen
Nick
Fuck that.
I’m not going to leave no matter how many times Lyriope tells me to. I know why she’s doing this. She’s wanting to protect me. For my sake. But what she doesn’t know is I do not need protection. I’m goddamn invincible once I have my mind set on something. And right now, my mind is set on her.
Her.
As Lyriope walks back to Bryant, I notice Sidorov and he are in a heated conversation. So much so that they don’t notice me as I approach to retrieve my cane. I’m close enough to hear the conversation and decide to reach for a drink from the passing waitress and enjoy the show. All I need is a bag of popcorn and things would be delightful.
“Unacceptable! Completely unacceptable,” Bryant seethes. He doesn’t even notice that Lyriope is standing next to him, or if he does, he isn’t acknowledging it.
“Something came up, and he couldn’t make it,” Sidorov says, his eyes darting around the room. It doesn’t appear he’s worried about Bryant’s rage, but more that the guests of the party are going to catch on that some drama is occurring. That’s his first mistake. He should worry about Bryant over all else. If I liked the man, I’d maybe step in and try to help the poor fucker and defuse the situation.
But I hate him and will enjoy watching him burn.
“It’s his fucking engagement party,” Bryant booms. “An engagement party that I didn’t even want to happen in the first place. And now you’re telling me that Pavel had something more important than showing up?”
“He sends his regrets,” Sidorov says in a low voice, taking a step closer to Bryant so the conversation can be more private.
His second mistake. He shouldn’t be getting closer to Bryant. He should be keeping his distance. I like to poke a bear. I enjoy the thrill. But I wouldn’t enter the cage as I do it.
“I’m. Over. This.” Bryant points his finger toward Sidorov’s chest. “I’ve had my patience pushed far enough. You can tell that fucking twerp of a nephew of yours that the engagement is off. Over my dead body will I allow anyone with my blood in their veins to marry that man. The deal is off.”
For the first time, Sidorov raises his voice. “You can’t do that. A deal is a deal.”
“I break deals all the time. You want to know why? Because I can,” Bryant counters, his men gathering near their boss as they can sense the tension between the two men is growing.
I notice that Lyriope is looking at me wide-eyed. I can’t tell if she’s afraid, surprised, or if there is a small part of her that believes her father is finally fighting for her honor. Although I know this has nothing to do with Lyriope but all to do with the fact that Bryant feels disrespected, and everyone knows not to disrespect Bryant Morelli. Everyone except Pavel Sidorov.
Pavel really was such an easy man to lead astray. A simple phone call, a few texts when he should have been dining and impressing Bryant Morelli, a promise of prestige and lifetime invites to Wonderland, a little payoff… Pavel was by far the easiest man to manipulate in my dirty dealing career. Having the man miss his own engagement party should have been so much harder to arrange.
And yet… success.
“In Italy—”
“Fuck Italy,” Bryant seethes, leaning in. “And fuck you for even getting involved. I shouldn’t have even lowered myself to the Sidorov level and negotiated with low-level criminals. But I did, and I tried to make the best out of it. But this”—he motions around him—“is over. Over.”
Bryant moves to leave, but Sidorov grabs him by the arm.
Third mistake.
“You can’t just walk out of here and—”
“Get your fucking hand off me.” Bryant is cool, collected, and so very sinister. I have a new respect for the man right now.
Sidorov releases him, but he too turns sinister. “You’re going to regret this. I take deals seriously. A man’s word is everything. If a man goes back on his word, there are consequences.”
Bryant takes Lyriope by the arm—finally acknowledging she’s standing right beside him—and takes a few steps toward the door. He looks over his shoulder and says, “Threaten me again, and you’re a dead man. I give you one freebie. One.”
“I don’t make threats, Morelli,” Sidorov says as his eyes lock with men of his own on the far right of the room.
Bryant doesn’t notice me standing in the sidelines, or if he does, the rage inside of him is blinding the man. I wait until he and Lyriope exit the restaurant, but then I follow close behind. I know this doesn’t end well tonight. Sidorov isn’t known for his brains, but he is known for his ruthless actions. I half expect him and his thugs to come storming out of the restaurant to pounce on Bryant, and I want to be near to pull Lyriope to safety if I have to.
I watch as Lyriope enters the car to leave. She looks tiny next to Bryant and his goons. That ridiculous red dress—I know she was forced to wear—that molds to her body like a second skin. The bodice clings to very generous breasts that accentuate how small her waist is. The hem comes to mid-thigh, her legs trim and shapely, and I can see the muscles of her calves as she stands in ridiculously high heels. When she turns toward the restaurant, I appreciate that the woman has a figure any man would lust after. Her rounded ass is full and the dress tight enough to have me doubt she’s wearing anything beneath it. Long brown hair falls in curls to the middle of her back, held at the nape of her neck with some sort of clip, the stone of which glitter in the sun. Another flash of splintered light comes from a bracelet when she lifts her hand to swipe a piece of her hair from her eye. Every man with eyes watches her walk beside one of the most dangerous and powerful men in the world as they leave a wake of disaster behind them. Even as they disappear into the vehicle, I see that it takes a few seconds for Bryant’s underlings to seem to remember they have a job to do. I can’t blame them. The woman is gorgeous.
I’m proud of her. She’s holding her head high even though I’m sure confusion and the unknown is drowning her. She kept her face composed. She didn’t ask questions or try to get involved. She simply observed.
People who observe are the deadliest. Always fear a quiet assassin.
Yes, I’m so very proud of the strength she exuded as she stormed out of the restaurant by her father’s side as the fuse to my carefully orchestrated inferno is about to ignite.
She’s a Morelli now, and she actually looks it.
* * *
Lyriope
I don’t say a single word or ask a question. I want to. I almost choke on the flood of what-nows that are drowning in the back of my throat. But I simply clutch my shaking hands in front of me while I try not to look back toward the restaurant. I won’t be able to stomach seeing Nick standing there, and I know he watched the entire exchange between my father and Sidorov. I don’t know what happens next, but my heart breaks in a million pieces as I stare down at the ground waiting for the door of the vehicle to be opened for me. Regardless if I marry Pavel or not, I know tonight’s incident isn’t a good thing. It’s not good news that I’m no longer marrying Pavel. Something worse will no doubt be taking its place. Resigning myself to the fact that I will indeed be captive of a world that I’ll never truly be accepted in, I follow my father’s lead and leave.
“Sir”—one of the guards enters the front seat of the vehicle, slightly out of breath—“we need to leave. There is word that the full force of the Sidorovs are arriving tonight to ambush you for canceling the wedding and going back on the deal. Sidorov just called for it. We need to get you to safety immediately.”
Bryant looks outside the window as if expecting to see his enemies with blazing guns, already attacking. “I don’t give a fuck what Sidorov does. Let them come and see my wrath.” He’s slurring his words as whatever he’s been drinking tonight has clearly taken hold. He should be thinking clearly right now, and it’s obvious he isn’t.
“Sir, I must respectfully insist. We aren’t strong enough to hold them off,” his driver says, agreeing with the man in the front seat. “We don’t have enough manpower of our own if they do plan to throw everything they have at us.”
“Let’s save this battle for when we can show them how mighty the Morellis truly are,” the other Bryant lackey pipes in.
“Please, can we go?” I begin. “I’m scared.” Morelli has kept an army around us since coming back from Italy. And he upped security even more after the explosion that ruined his classic car. But the visible show of guns and threats is too much for me. I’m actually terrified of what comes next.
