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“Fucking or partying tonight?” Mika asks, grimacing when her shoulders stiffen.

“Both, preferably,” I say, just to mess with her.

The look she gives me is vicious. If I were a lesser man, I’d be dead.

We walk out of the office, and everyone glances our way as we head to the VIP lounge, our table in the corner. Usually, we have famous guests in attendance from sports stars to the film industry. Tonight it’s just the three of us.

The bouncer lets a few dancers come inside and Luciana’s body scrunches tight—one touch and she’ll break.

She eyes the giggling females who cram around us.

Mika says, “No fucking touching.”

I don’t even know what his deal is. I have never seen him touch or be touched by a woman out in the open. With him out of the equation, the two dancers get on my table, giving me a show. I couldn’t even describe the women, seeing through them, but I pretend to be more interested than I am.

Luciana brushes a finger on my thigh. “Hmm…” she murmurs. It’s obvious she wants my attention.

“What?” I snap, hating that I am curious.

“They don’t seem like your type.”

It takes everything in me to hold my erection at bay. Her hand moves behind my back, and she glides her pointed nail down my neck until she grabs my collar and turns me to her.

“I am your type, and there’s not another me anywhere in this world.”

“I’ve had you once. Not interested anymore.”

Her eyes bore into mine, liquefying my insides. “Do you want blood, amore? Because I’ll spill it, both of theirs. Any woman who even dares to come near you.”

“What if I want to?” I rasp.

She bites my earlobe. Fuck, she seduces me all right. Her jealousy is such a fucking turn on. I swear all my blood rushes to my cock, ready to pillage her with how territorial she is.

My friend shakes his head at me, stands up from the couch and walks out, leaving me with Luciana and the women.

“Be my guest,” she says and leans back, looking smug.

I doubt we’ve been here for more than twenty minutes when I stand up with her right on my heels. The headache of pulling her away from them is not worth it.

In the car, my body tightens to the point I could break apart any moment now. My nostrils flare while she hums to herself—aware she won yet another round. Even that sounds melodic, this siren who calls me to her in that seductive voice, ready to snatch my life for a damned kiss.

“Why are you so tense?” she whispers.

“I swear to God, Luciana. Don’t push me right now.”

I press down on the gas pedal, flooring it, the action propelling us further into our seats. I try to calm down, but it’s impossible with her so near, clouding my judgment and drugging my senses.

“Are you trying to kill us?” she yells.

I notice the speedometer hitting its maximum capacity. Everything happens in a blur when I hit the brakes right where she shot me.

I stare at the exact spot. It’s one of my favorite pastimes—reliving that moment, torturing myself to no end.

“Enzo.” She says my name in a shaky voice, brimming with emotions, her palm cupping my arm.

“Run and pray you’re faster than I am. Because once I catch you, you’re fucked.”

I snap my face to her and at whatever she sees etched there, she hastily pulls at the handle, stumbling out. Slipping off her heels, she takes off down the empty road.