Page 22 of Brutal Heir (Ruthless Heirs #3)

THE KING IS BACK

R ory

The crimson velvet curtains part, and cool air skims over my skin as we cross the threshold of the notorious Velvet Vault.

The scent of sweet cigars, top-shelf liquor and decadence still lingers in the air, beneath the dim lights.

Marching into the lush nightclub with the powerful Alessandro Rossi at my side, I can momentarily forget all about the incident earlier.

I don’t know what it is about the Gemini heir that makes me feel invincible.

Growing up, I was always surrounded by strong, ruthless men, men that were feared by all, and yet, I never felt this safe.

Shite, stop that, Rory. What’s gotten into ya ? Again, Maeve makes an appearance, the familiar lilt of her voice booming across my foolish thoughts.

Another booming voice draws me from my inner musings, this one loud and very real.

About two dozen of the Vault’s staff surrounds a dark-haired guy in a sleek suit who stands at the center of the dancefloor.

The disco ball glitters overhead, bathing him in an occasional rainbow of bright hues.

He’s spouting off instructions, checking uniforms and going over the VIP clientele list for the night.

Alessandro pauses in a dark corner, and I remain by his side to watch the guy I assume is the manager of the club direct the staff.

Just when it seems like his speech is about to come to an end, Alessandro steps out from the shadows, into the center of the club. The entire room goes silent. All eyes turn to him. He grips the edge of the bar and begins, his voice low and steady.

“Thanks for stepping in to handle things, Vincent.” He pats the guy in the suit on the back before turning his attention to the rest of the staff.

“I know some of you didn’t expect to see me again.

Hell, there was a time I wasn’t sure I’d ever step foot in this place either.

But here I am. Scarred, not broken, and a little more fire in my blood.

And a hell of a lot less patience for bullshit. "

He sweeps the room with a sharp glance.

"This club—our club—is more than a business. It’s a legacy. It’s a family. And Lawson tells me someone decided to betray that. Someone thought I was too far gone to notice the missing money. Too weak to do anything about it."

A pause. His tone sharpens.

“Let me be clear. I may have been down, but I am not out. From this moment forward, things are going to change. I’ll be watching. Closely. And when I find out who’s been stealing from me, from us, they won’t just be out of a job. They’ll be out of places to run.”

Then, softer. Just a notch.

“But for those of you who’ve kept this place alive in my absence, who’ve stayed loyal, I see you. I haven’t forgotten. And I’ll make sure you’re rewarded.”

His mouth tilts into a half-grin.

“The king is back, ladies and gentlemen. And it’s time we remind Manhattan what the Velvet Vault is really made of.”

A chill races up my spine as the staff breaks into applause. Then slowly, one by one, the servers and bartenders approach him, each with a word of encouragement or a light touch.

The half-grin turns into a full smile, and feckin’ hell it’s radiant on him.

This is Alessandro’s home. This club is where his heart is. And it’s the key to his recovery.

Once he’s finished greeting all the staff, he saunters back to my side. I can see the tight set of his jaw, the barely perceptible crinkling at the corners of his eyes and that stiff gait. He’s trying his damnedest to put on a good show, but it’s costing him.

“What now, my king?” I toss him a grin, and he rewards me with one in return.

“Now we wait and see if we can catch ourselves a rat.”

“You don’t think someone would be stupid enough to try something with you here, do you?”

“No, I don’t.” He shakes his head. “So, tonight we just observe, look for any erratic behavior. If my presence alone is enough to stop it, great, but I have a feeling there’s more to this.”

“What do you want me to do?”

He lifts a casual shoulder. “Talk to the staff. I already saw Lance eyeing you from across the club the moment we entered.”

A tendon feathers in his jaw as he casts a dark glare in the bartender’s direction. Sure enough, the fool is looking over here. He waves before returning his attention to wiping down the bar top.

“Aye, I can do that.” I turn toward the back bar, more than happy to kill some time gossiping with the chatty bartender.

Anything to keep my thoughts from turning back to the darkness.

What I’ll get out of the discussion, I’m not quite sure.

If I wasn’t convinced about the Gemini’s mob dealings before, Alessandro’s rousing speech should be enough.

But still, I’m stubbornly holding onto the hope I haven’t just bound myself to another ruthless man.

Before I take another step, Alessandro’s hand wraps around my upper arm, pulling me into his side. His eyes meet mine, and he falters for an instant before he whispers, “Just tell them you work for me without going into details.”

“No problem, Rossi.” I give him a reassuring smile because what I do for him is our business and no one else’s.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his fingers tightening around my arm for an instant before he finally releases me.

Casually meandering over to the bar, I drop into a bar stool right in front of Lance. A few of the female servers hover around him, chattering and flirting. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s sleeping with one or more of them.

“Hey, Rory, right?” He offers a warm smile, revealing a cute dimple.

“Aye.”

“So, the boss let you out of your gilded cage uptown and let you into his den of sin?”

“He did.”

“Oh, you work for Mr. Rossi, too?” A girl around my age in a tight black server’s dress inches closer.

“That’s right. I’m his personal assistant.” Sounds better than what I came up with last time.

“Rory, this is Sienna. She’s been working here for almost a year now. We started around the same time.”

“Nice to meet ya.”

The brunette offers me a smile just as another girl pops up from behind the bar, blonde hair in a messy ponytail. She’s young, probably just a little over eighteen. “Uh, you are so lucky. Mr. Rossi is beyond hot.”

“Or at least he used to be.” Another girl with blue dreads snickers.

I’m a second from ripping her a new one and yanking off her fake arse extensions for that remark when the first girl, Sienna, does it for me.

“Don’t be such a bitch, Amber,” she snarls. “Alessandro has been an amazing boss. Don’t you remember what happened when the place got shot up in the beginning of summer? He paid all of our salaries for two weeks while it was closed.”

“Yeah, Sienna’s right,” says Lance. “The Velvet Vault is a great place to work. This is my third bar since I moved to Manhattan and it’s by far the best.”

A hint of warmth blooms in my chest at the way they talk about Alessandro. He may be a cranky gobshite sometimes, but he really cares about this club and apparently his staff.

Blue Dreads stomps off in her hooker heels, and I have to restrain myself from racing after her to give her a piece of my mind. As I watch her disappear into the lounge area, Alessandro catches my eye.

He moves through the Velvet Vault like he owns every square inch of it, which, technically, he does, but it’s more than that. It’s the way the shadows bend around him, how every head subtly turns as he passes, drawn to the dark gravity he exudes.

Alessandro in his element is something else entirely, commanding, lethal, devastatingly beautiful. The low lighting catches on the angles of his face, the scars only enhancing the sharp cut of his jaw, the brutal strength in his frame.

My chest tightens as I watch him, all calm confidence and quiet menace, and those feelings surface again… emotions I should not be feeling for this man.

His eyes lift to meet mine again as if he’s sensed my heavy gaze. How embarrassing. I’m supposed to be getting intel on the person stealing money from the club, not ogling the owner.

Still, my eyes remain pinned to his for longer than appropriate considering our relationship. So with a deep breath, I force myself to spin around and run into a hard body.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry.” Lance catches me, his arms encircling my waist to keep me steady.

It’s just a bump, a mistake, no harm?—

But then his hands close tighter around my waist, and my vision tunnels. After today’s encounter, my body remembers things my mind has buried.

My heart lurches up my throat, then riots. There’s something about his hands on me that has my entire body revolting. “Let go,” I hiss. Then I wrench myself free of his touch as if I’ve been burned.

Alessandro is beside me an instant later, and I have no idea how he got here so quickly when he was across the lounge a second ago. I’m shaking, breaths coming in ragged pants again.

“Never touch her,” he growls, eyes throwing daggers at the poor bartender before he spins to me. “Are you okay?”

Drawing in a lungful of air, I shake out my head, freeing myself from the panicked haze. “I’m fine. It wasn’t Lance’s fault,” I mumble.

“Go,” he snarls at the poor guy who looks completely lost.

“Yeah, no problem. Sorry for bumping into you, Rory.”

I wave a dismissive hand, but I can practically feel myself paling. Alessandro moves closer, but doesn’t touch me, his calm, steady presence enough to temper the fear for now.

“That was because of that man from earlier, wasn’t it?” he whisper-hisses.

Forcing the fear to dribble away, I allow the irritation to take over. “I already told you I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But there’s clearly something wrong.”

“It’s my business. Not yours.”

His hand snakes out, wrapping around my wrist and he hauls me closer so I’m flush against his body.

I want to push him away, to scream that he has no right, but when his fingers tighten around my wrist, I don’t pull back.

I can’t. Because in that moment, I don’t feel afraid anymore, I feel owned, possessed, and cared for.

“You are my business,” he snarls.

But if he knew who I really was, he would run in the opposite direction.

“No, I’m not. I’m just your nu—” I bite off the end of the word when I feel curious gazes lancing in our direction. “I’m just your assistant. Now let me go.”

His jaw ticks, eyes flashing with barely restrained rage, but his fingers uncurl around my hand, and he releases me. The moment I’m free, I make a beeline toward the door. I need to get out of here. Now.

As I sprint toward the exit, I can’t decide if I want to run back to him or never stop running at all.