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MARCO

I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white and then release, only to strangle the damn thing again. I’m sitting outside Imogine’s motel, waiting to pick her up for our next date. God, after the fundraiser a few nights ago, I’m not sure I’ll survive an evening at Eclipse, an exclusive nightclub for the high rollers of society.

I didn’t think I was the possessive type, but Imogine is revealing a side of me I never knew existed. She was stunning in her dress, absolutely radiant. More than a fairy tale princess, she was a fucking queen. I told myself over and over it was just for show and that taking her to the fundraiser was a necessary step for the plan to work. When we got there, however… something in me snapped.

She’s mine .

“Let it go,” I growl to myself as I run a hand through my hair.

Stealing a glance in the rearview mirror, I wince at my reflection. My stubble is several days old, and the bags under my eyes speak to my sleepless nights since I dropped Imogine off here after the fundraiser.

I’ve kept myself awake, tossing and turning and trying not to picture Imogine in her elegant blue dress with her hair swept to the side. Jesus, and those dark red lips that smirked at me every time she thought of a witty comeback.

Why am I torturing myself like this? Nothing good can come from my obsession with the curvy young woman currently pretending to be my girlfriend. I feel like I’m in a cheesy chick flick, only the stakes are life and death in this case. One slip-up, and the whole charade comes tumbling down. Last week, I would’ve considered Imogine collateral damage in that scenario. Now…

Fuck, now I can’t even entertain the thought of anyone harming her because of me. Yes, she agreed to our terms, but she can’t possibly know all the risks of being associated with a man in my position.

Before I can spiral any further, a flash of dark brown hair catches my eye. Imogine locks her door and makes her way to my car, the teal sequined dress hugging her curves and making my dick hard.

Fuck me, this is going to be a long night.

Right before Imogine is about to step off the curb, a man emerges from the shadows. Everything in me is on high alert, and I clench my jaw as I watch their interaction. I did enough homework to know this fucker is the owner of the motel. Imogine gives him a polite nod, which the dumbass takes as an invitation to crowd her space.

I’m out of my car in the next second, slamming the door and startling them both. Imogine looks over at me, relief flooding her features. That’s not the usual reaction I get, but coming from her, it gives me a deep sense of satisfaction. It also spurs me on to put this sleazy motherfucker in his place.

“Imogine,” I call out as I approach the two. I tuck her into my side, pleased when she melts against me.

I turn my head, bending slightly to press a kiss to the hollow of her neck. Breathing in her sweet honey scent, I get the urge to bite her there and mark her as mine. Her pulse beats against my lips, and her breathing grows shallow. I nip her soft flesh, then lick away the sting before snapping my eyes to the landlord standing next to us.

“Let’s get out of here. This is no place for my angel,” I say, my voice low and deadly. I wrap my arm around Imogine’s shoulders and kiss the top of her head before guiding her to the passenger side of my car.

I open the door and help her inside, trying my damndest not to notice how short her dress is. Those creamy thighs are on display, making me both ravenous and insanely jealous of all the men who will be looking at her tonight.

Shaking my head of those thoughts, I close the door and go around the car, hopping in my seat and getting us the hell away from here. The closer we get to Eclipse, the more agitated and anxious I become. I steal a glance at Imogine, my eyes wandering up and down. While she was gorgeous for the fundraiser, this is a simpler look. Light eyeliner, berry pink lips, and a slight pink shimmer on her cheeks. Her hair is down this time, showing off her long, wavy locks.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I snap my attention back to the road and shake my head no.

“You said we were going to a fancy nightclub, right?”

“Correct.” I swallow thickly and keep my eyes trained on the road. After a few moments of silence, I sneak another peek at the woman who has captured my non-existent heart.

She’s tugging at the hem of her dress, trying to get it to cover more of her legs. When that doesn’t work, she folds her arms over her waist and turns her body away from me. I realize, all too late, that she’s self-conscious. All I’ve done is stare and growl at her, so it shouldn’t surprise me that she’s uncomfortable.

I’m no good at this shit. There’s a reason I haven’t had a serious relationship since… well, ever, I guess. Okay, there are multiple reasons, but this tops the list. I don’t know how to treat someone like Imogine. How can I possibly express these crazy thoughts spinning around in my head? Add to that the complicated situation we’re in and the even more complicated emotions rising in me, and I’m screwed. Completely at a loss. Floundering for a lifeline.

“This dress was included in the wardrobe that was dropped off yesterday. I thought it was what would fit our date the best, but I can change if–”

“The dress is sexy as hell, and I’m having a hard time concentrating on anything else,” I blurt.

Imogine gasps while I stare straight ahead, biting my tongue to avoid saying anything else stupid.

We don’t speak for the rest of the ride, but at least she doesn’t look uncomfortable anymore. She’s not tugging on her dress or trying to cover herself up. In fact, I think the little siren just arched her back to show off her ample chest.

A few minutes later, we pull into the private parking lot underneath the club. I get out of the car and open the door for Imogine, unable to pull my eyes away from her stunning form as she steps out and stands to her full height. I glance down at her feet, smiling when I see her matching teal slip-on flats with an open toe. Classy without killing her feet.

“I have a feeling you instructed Maria not to include heels in the dozens of outfits she bought for me?”

I shrug, offering her my arm. “A good boyfriend takes note of these things,” I say, smiling down at her.

She smirks and nudges me with her elbow, the playful gesture one more layer to this incredible woman.

Once inside, Imogine steps closer, tightening her hold on my arm. I suppose she’s probably never been here, or any nightclub, for that matter. She doesn’t seem like the type, nor does she have the extra time or money. Not that I’m judging; it’s just a fact. I know her father’s debts have kept her working all kinds of hours in service industry jobs to keep them afloat. It makes sense that this is an entirely foreign experience for her.

“You look incredible, and everyone here is jealous of me,” I whisper. It’s true, but what I don’t say is that I’m the one with the possessive streak who’s jealous of the eyes we’re attracting.

“Yeah, right,” she says in a sarcastic tone. “But thank you for trying to make me feel less awkward. I just want to do a good job.”

Right. Job . This is a job for her. And I have a mission to meet up with Grayson, the owner of Eclipse.

I lead us to the VIP room, where the lights are low and the music is loud. The bar at the other end of the room is outlined in neon lights, as are the private booths lining the walls. The dance floor is much more intimate here, with just a few couples taking advantage of the space.

“Marco! Over here. Oh good, you brought your girlfriend with you.” I don’t know how I feel about Grayson remembering Imogine from the fundraiser. That means he must have been thinking about her, which means I have to kill him now.

Jesus Christ, no. Stop it. I’m here to extend our unofficial contract of five percent of Eclipse’s profits in exchange for the family’s protection and brute force when necessary. That’s it.

“Grayson,” I greet, noticing the empty glass sitting in front of him. “Can I get you another drink before we get down to business?”

“Excellent idea!” the rotund Sicilian man exclaims, clearly on his fourth or fifth drink already.

Imogine and I walk up to the bar, where I order a round of drinks for us. I turn my back for all of thirty seconds, but by the time I glance over my shoulder at Imogine, some fucker is hitting on her.

Adrenaline mixes with possessiveness, and I impulsively grab my woman’s hand and tug her into my chest. She’s breathless as her bright blue eyes shine up at me, those juicy lips parting slightly in invitation. I cup the back of her neck and weave my fingers through her hair as my lips meet hers. I’m completely fucked.

Imogine gasps, which allows me to slip my tongue in between her pouty lips and taste her for the first time. She's sweet like honey. Her small, soft hands crawl up my chest, making me growl into her mouth.

My hands slide down her sides, tracing over the swell of her breasts, the slight dip in her waist, and the curve of her deliciously wide hips. I grip her there, my fingers digging into her flesh. I almost release my hold on her, not wanting to cause Imogine any pain, but she moans and claws at my chest, letting me know she likes it rough.

Christ, that thought makes my dick ache. I pull her closer to me, needing to feel every inch of her body against mine as I stroke my tongue against hers and swallow down her soft whimpers.

I finally break the kiss so I can turn my head and stare at the fucker who dared to steal my girl away from me. I snarl at him, fucking snarl like a territorial beast. It works. The coward scampers off, leaving me alone to devour my prey.

Imogine’s arms loop around my neck and pull me back down, her lips meeting mine halfway. She totally owns this kiss. It makes me impossibly hard to know she's been thinking of me like this, too, that she felt whatever I felt at the fundraiser ball. And I know she did. I can taste it in her kiss.

We finally break apart, both of us gasping for air. Imogine’s lips are swollen, her cheeks bright red from our kiss. My eyes drop to her heaving chest, and I barely restrain myself from burying my face into her cleavage and licking the sweat off her skin.

“Your drinks, sir,” the bartender says, butting into our intimate moment.

I gather the drinks and toss a few fifties in his direction even though I know the drinks are on the house. I remember what it was like living off of tips before I started working my way up in the ranks of the Caparelli family.

Turning back to Imogine, I see she’s still breathless and unsure of what just happened. “Come on,” I murmur, nodding toward the table. “Let’s get this over with so we can do that again.”