Page 35 of Brutal Heir (Ruthless Heirs #3)

TELL ME TO STOP

A lessandro

The chaos of the city blurs beyond the sound-proof windows of the Range Rover as we zip down the dimly lit highway with the brackish waters of the Hudson River to our side.

I try to catch Rory’s gaze, but she’s been staring out the tinted glass toward the twinkling lights of the New Jersey shore since we got into the car.

She’s been quieter lately, less fire in her insults and less fun in our banter.

Ever since the night she gave into this forbidden fire between us, when I feasted on her pussy and ruined myself for anyone else. Dio , I’m getting hard just thinking about it. An entire week and I still can’t get it out of my mind.

Those tempting sounds.

The rush of crimson on her cheeks, the curve of her lips as she came.

Merda , it was everything.

I felt whole again. A real man. Not the twisted, destroyed version of one.

But every time I’ve tried to bring it up, she laughs it off, chocking it up to my state of intoxication. Sure, I was drunk, but I remember every tiny detail of the encounter.

And if I wasn’t such a coward, I would tell her how fucking much it meant to me.

But what if she doesn’t feel the same?

What we have is good, incredible even. And I’m scared shitless to fuck it up.

“You feeling okay, Rossi? You’re looking a little pale.” Her concerned gaze pivots in my direction.

With a quick check in the rearview mirror, I find my driver’s dark eyes darting between the traffic ahead and the backseat. Now is not the time for this discussion.

“Fine,” I finally mutter. “Just anxious to have this thing at the Velvet Vault over with.”

She nods and turns her attention back to the window. What could be so fucking interesting about the Hudson River in the middle of winter?

If I’m being honest with myself, it isn’t just Rory that has my nerves on edge.

It has been over a week, and we still haven’t found Amber’s killer.

I’ve been at the club nearly every day, questioning the staff myself, but so far, nothing.

I even brought Matteo in to check the security system when the half hour of video footage we needed was mysteriously missing.

He confirmed the cameras had been tampered with, but more than that, he couldn’t say.

Which is why we’re currently on our way to the Vault at nearly midnight. If I want answers, I need to be there when the action happens, not at three o’clock in the afternoon when I typically come.

There will be no masks tonight. Just me.

All my scars out for all of Manhattan to see.

Shifting in the seat, I adjust my collar, the heavily starched cotton irritating the scars along my neck.

Already, I’m dreading putting on the jacket.

It’ll only chafe all the delicate skin below.

But I can’t show up to the Velvet Vault on a Saturday night in scrubs.

Especially not this close to the holidays.

Christmas will be here in a week, then New Year’s Eve, one of the biggest nights of the year for the club.

Everything must be settled by then.

Amber’s family put out a missing person’s alert, and the cops have been on my ass all week. They’ll never find her body. And a part of me feels guilty as all hell about it. Her family needs closure, and they’ll never get it.

The fifty grand I donated to the search fund does little to assuage the guilt.

The car slows, and I glance up to see the purple neon sign of the Velvet Vault and the two-block long line behind the infamous velvet rope. Rory perks up at the sight, sliding to the edge of the seat before a yawn spills out.

“You didn’t have to come,” I whisper. The little leprechaun is an early riser and at this rate, we won’t get home till dawn.

“And miss out on a night at the notorious Vault? I don’t think so.” She smirks, but the amusement doesn’t quite reach her eyes, not like it used to.

“Do you want me to drive around to the back?” Sammy calls out from the front seat.

Glancing at the traffic, I shake my head with a grunt of frustration. “Nah, it’ll be quicker if we walk. Just drop us off here.”

“Sure thing, boss.” He parks the Range Rover right in front of the entrance, and two security guards surround the vehicle.

Sammy opens Rory’s door first, and I slide across the seat to follow. The moment my Ferragamos hit the sidewalk, blinding lights flash across my face. I nearly stumble back, but a firm grip curls around my arm.

“I got you, Rossi,” Rory whispers. “We can’t have you making an arse out of yourself in front of the paparazzi.”

Merda . What the hell are they doing here?

Weaving my arm around Rory’s waist so we look like a couple instead of a nurse holding up her pathetic patient, we march toward the entrance. No point in going in through the back now that we’ve been spotted.

“Mr. Rossi!”

“Mr. Rossi, over here!”

“Who is the beautiful woman at your side?”

The paparazzi are ruthless, their intrusive lenses catching every detail, every narrowed glare, twist of the lips, cursed scars. “Damn it,” I growl. I should have listened to Sammy and sat through traffic just to avoid these vultures.

Rory’s hold only tightens around my arm as we weave through the masses with the two security guards leading the way.

Some young guy slips between the crowd, shoving his camera in our faces. “Mr. Rossi, is this the new woman in your life? You haven’t been spotted with anyone since your tragic accident. Wanna give us a name for the New York Post ?”

“None of your fucking business,” I snarl.

Rory tugs me behind her and slams her palm into the asshole’s camera. “Smile all you like, lad, but keep that lens up my skirt, and I’ll shove it so far down your throat you’ll be taking selfies from the inside.”

The young man’s eyes widen, and he drops the camera as Rory throws him a cheeky smile.

“Well done, Red,” I murmur as we’re finally ushered through the threshold by security.

“That eejit was getting on my nerves.” She shrugs before releasing me. “You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I hope you don’t mind your picture beside the infamous Gemini heir sprawled across the tabloids.”

Her smirk falters for an instant before it carefully slides back into place. “I just hope they got my good side.”

I allow myself a minute to really take her in as she peels off her oversized coat, revealing a deep emerald dress that perfectly matches the brilliant shade of her eyes.

It’s the kind that looks painted on, stretching across every enticing curve, by the famous designer Hervé Léger.

As the son of a powerhouse in the fashion world, I know my stylists, and he’s one of my favorites.

“There are only good sides from what I see.”

“Maybe that explosion damaged your vision, Rossi. You should get that looked into.”

Shaking my head, a rueful chuckle parts my lips. Once we’ve handed over our jackets to the coat check, I lead her through the back hallway toward the elevator. Tonight, I hope to remain anonymous. I planned on spending the evening observing from the privacy of my office.

After a quick ride to the top floor, Rory pauses at the balcony overlooking the dancefloor.

The hypnotic beat thrums through my veins, vibrating across the walls.

The air pulses in a rhythmic frenzy, sin and debauchery so potent it blankets the sprawling space.

My thoughts instantly travel back to that heated dance and the almost-kiss. Is she thinking about it, too?

I move behind her, my hand aching to settle on the slope of her hip or hell, I’d even take the small of her back. I just need to touch her. Dio , that dress molds to every dangerous curve of her body, and I’m like an addict, desperate for my next fix.

My lips brush over the shell of her ear, and I’m not even certain when I got so close. There’s something about this place that brings me back to life, makes me feel invincible. “Are you thinking about that dance, Red?”

She shivers against me, her ass pressing into my lower half. “Of course not.” But the smile betrays her.

“You don’t have to spend the night stuck with me in my office.

” I nuzzle her ear, unable to keep away.

“Go dance, if you want,” I whisper, my voice thick with desire, hoping she’ll say no.

Praying she’ll let me take her back to my office and rip that scandalous dress off her. “You’re off the clock anyway.”

I’m not sure if I add that last part more for myself or for her.

As if she feels the magic in the air, she leans into me, the back of her head falling against my shoulder. My arm curls around her, hand settling on the soft slope of her hip. When she doesn’t push me away, I run my nose down her neck, inhaling her heady scent.

“You’re dangerous, Rossi…” Her words are nothing more than a breathy pant.

“I want you, Rory. I need you so badly,” I murmur the confession against her warm skin. “I can’t stop thinking about your taste, or the tempting sounds you made when my tongue was buried deep inside that sweet pussy.”

Her breath hitches, and I’m certain she’s going to run.

Instead, her body only melts further into mine.

And I could have imagined it, but I swear her legs part just a little.

So I slowly slide the hand on her hip down farther until I find her apex, my fingers brushing over the soft fabric covering her mound.

“Ale…” she breathes.

“Tell me to stop.” I drum my fingers over her clit, exerting just the right amount of pleasure.

When she doesn’t, I run my tongue down her neck, then slip my hand beneath the scandalous hem of her dress. Cupping her through silk panties, moisture seeps through to my palm.

A growl vibrates my chest at the feel of her drenched and ready for me.

Her breath hitches again, the pulse in her throat fluttering beneath my lips as I drag my mouth across her skin.

I press her against the gilded railing, the thrum of bass from the dancefloor below vibrating through the soles of our shoes, through our bodies.

But I’m only aware of her—her scent, her heat, the soft curve of her pussy beneath my palm.

“It wasn’t just because I was drunk,” I whisper against her skin as I lick my way down to her collarbone.

“You’ve done something to me, Rory Delaney.

” I say it slowly like the words might brand her if I say them just right.

“I haven’t been able to sleep. Haven’t been able to think straight since that evening on the couch. ”

She tries to smirk, but it falters when I trail my fingers across her center and anchor her against me. I tilt her chin up with a gentle touch, forcing her to look at me. Her lips part, and I can feel the war playing out behind those blazing green eyes.

“When I’m with you, I forget I’m broken,” I admit as I spin her around. “And that terrifies the hell out of me.”

Her arm curves around me, hand diving into the back pocket of my slacks. “You think you’re scared?” she whispers. “You’re not the only one with scars, Rossi. Some just aren’t on the outside.”

That does it. Those words snap the final tethers of my dwindling restraint.

My lips crash into hers, and she meets me with equal ferocity.

Tongues clash, teeth scrape, and we’re devouring each other like we might not get another chance.

The lights below flash, casting gold and violet shadows over her skin as I lift her onto the edge of the rail’s inner lip, caging her in.

One slip of my hand, and the whole club could see everything.

But I don’t give a damn. Let them look. Let them watch the king claim what’s his.

She moans into my mouth, and I swear I’ve never heard a more perfect sound.

“You sure this is a good idea?” she pants between kisses.

“Probably not,” I rasp, nipping at her bottom lip. “But I’ve never been good at doing the right thing.”

She grins wickedly. “Good. Because neither have I.”

And then she yanks me back down to her mouth, and the world burns away until there’s only her, and me, and the pulse of danger thrumming through our veins.