Page 55 of Their Reckless Thief (The Below #1)

CELESTE

We’d been wandering Vincenzo’s territory for hours, taking in the sights, the strange mix of wonder and danger. I had expected Dorian’s version of a tour to end with a drink at one of his clubs, but he had other plans.

“So, what’s next on the grand tour?” I asked, already bracing myself for whatever ridiculous answer he was about to give.

Dorian’s grin widened, that playful glint in his eye making my stomach twist with excitement and mild anxiety.

“Well, ladies,” he began, glancing between Vivian and me, “we’ve got a little meeting to attend with one of the rival mafia leaders.

He’s the guy who oversees the territory where the black-market vault is located. ”

Vivian raised an eyebrow, her usual cool demeanor slipping for a moment. “A meeting? With a rival mafia lord?”

I shot Dorian a look. “Isn’t this something you should’ve mentioned earlier?”

Dorian shrugged like it was no big deal.

“What’s life without a little danger, love?

Vincenzo expects you to be there since you’ll be involved in the heist, so it’s not up for debate.

” Dorian gave me one of his delicious smiles, the one that always rendered me absolutely useless.

“Besides, it’s at one of my most expensive clubs.

High-end and exclusive. Vincenzo insisted I take you two to pick out dresses before we go tonight. ”

Vivian’s eyes widened, but my defenses kicked in. “Dresses? I don’t need a new dress. Especially not one that’s probably going to cost a fortune.”

Dorian shot me a mischievous smile. “Vincenzo’s paying. It’s non-negotiable.”

Vivian looked intrigued, but I was pissed off.

Of course, Vincenzo would pull some shit like this.

He always had to be in control, always making decisions for everyone else…

but I didn’t want to make a scene in public.

Instead, I heaved an exaggerated sigh and gestured toward the street ahead. “Lead the way, then.”

We entered the boutique, the space glittering with chandeliers and walls lined with racks of dresses that looked more like works of art than clothes. The air smelled expensive, too—a faint mix of perfume and something floral that made me think of old money.

“We could never afford anything in here,” Vivian said, her fingers brushing over the fabric of a midnight-blue gown.

I nodded in agreement. “She’s right. This is way out of our league.”

Dorian, already lounging on a plush chair like he owned the place, waved us off. “I told you. Vincenzo’s paying. He wants his girls in the best. Who cares if this isn’t your usual style. Just go for it.”

His girls . The phrase made me want to vomit, but I let it slide, mostly because I knew arguing with Dorian would get me nowhere. Instead, I exchanged a glance with Vivian, who gave me a small shrug, as if to say, fuck it, let’s just go with it .

I sighed. “Fine.”

Vivian and I started pulling dresses from the racks, each one more stunning and more expensive than the last. I found myself staring at a sleek, form-fitting black dress with a high slit. It was the kind of dress that could make a girl feel dangerous and beautiful.

I took it to the dressing room and put it on. The silky fabric hugged my body like it was made for me. I turned around, glancing over my shoulder at the mirror. The dress accentuated every curve.

When I stepped out, Dorian gave a low whistle.

“Damn, Celeste. You’re killing me here.” His gaze raked over me in a way that sent heat crawling up my neck. “Get that fine ass of yours back in that dressing room before I follow you in there and do something real naughty.”

I bit my lip, fighting back a smile. “You’re impossible.”

As I made to turn around, I felt the telltale pull of a vision, and before I could stop it, I was somewhere else.

A hand—cold, skeletal, and marked with strange, glowing sigils—reached out to me.

Shadows wrapped around it, coiling like smoke.

The vision snapped back as quickly as it had come, and Dorian’s voice cut through the haze.

“Hey, you okay? You zoned out for a second.”

I didn’t respond, not exactly sure what to say.

Thankfully, I was spared from replying when Vivian stepped out of the dressing room in a deep-emerald gown that hugged her curves perfectly.

Dorian sent me a look that told me he was choosing to let me get away with not telling him what had happened, then gave another low whistle as he made a show of checking Vivian out. “Viv, you look fucking amazing .”

Vivian blushed—I hadn’t seen her do that in years—and shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, seriously. You’re both showstoppers,” Dorian said, giving us a slow, appreciative nod.

I chuckled, the tension easing a little as Dorian hyped us up. There was something comforting about the way he did it, even if it was completely over the top.

Vivian bit her lip as she looked at herself in the mirror. “I can’t believe Vincenzo’s paying for this.”

“Yeah, well, Vincenzo’s always pulling strings. I doubt anything he does is half-assed. We’ll just have to get used to it,” I said.

Dorian stood and adjusted his jacket. “All right, ladies. Let’s get out of here. We’ve got business to take care of.”

We stepped out of the boutique looking like a million bucks since Dorian had insisted on purchasing matching shoes, purses, and jewelry.

I couldn’t believe we’d been roped into a meeting with a rival mafia lord. The thought made my palms sweat and my stomach churn, but at least we looked the part.

After a quick stop at Vincenzo’s mansion, we headed to the meeting.

Walking into Vincenzo’s most prestigious underground club was like stepping into another world—a darker, more dangerous world that vibrated with magic and power.

Even the lighting was seductive: deep reds and purples casting shadows that danced across the sleek leather seats and velvet-lined walls.

The music was low and sultry, thrumming through the floor as if the entire place had a pulse of its own.

I felt eyes on me as we walked in, my arms linked between Vincenzo and Dorian.

Luca led the way, his presence commanding.

He was all dark, brooding intensity, while Vincenzo was cold, controlled power that could snap without warning.

Dorian, on the other hand, exuded warmth and playfulness, the golden retriever energy hiding the deadly precision beneath. Vivian followed close behind.

The men were all dressed impeccably, as usual.

Luca, in his dark tailored suit, always blending into the shadows.

Vincenzo, in a black-on-black ensemble that made his sharp features look like they could cut glass.

And Dorian, ever the contrast, in deep burgundy that hugged his frame in all the right ways.

A man approached us, confidence oozing from him, and flashed me a smile. “Care to dance?”

He had some balls to ask for a dance when Vincenzo and Dorian were flanking me.

Before I could respond, Vincenzo’s hand shot out, gripping the man’s shoulder with a possessive intensity. “Fuck off,” he growled. “She’s with me.”

Defiance flared in the man’s eyes, but one look at Vincenzo’s expression, and he backed away, muttering an apology. Vincenzo didn’t even glance at him again, his eyes locked on me, making it clear there was no room for argument.

As we moved deeper into the club, I noticed more heads turning. Men and women alike couldn’t help but stare at the three of them.

Gods, they were hot. It was almost laughable how perfect they looked together—each a different shade of danger.

Vivian walked beside us, her back and shoulders stiff. She was a sight to behold, effortless beauty incarnate. I gave her a small smile, and she returned it. After our earlier conversation, it felt like we were back to being us.

The club was the kind of place where deals were made, lives were ruined, and fortunes were gambled away.

High-end didn’t even begin to describe it.

The bar shimmered in the center, bottles of enchanted liquor glowing in their glass cases, and the floors were polished obsidian, reflecting the dim lights.

Waitresses dressed in barely there outfits that shimmered like magic itself floated through the crowd. Glowing orbs were suspended in the air, each pulsing softly, creating an ethereal vibe. Inside each one, a dancer moved to the beat of the music.

The patrons were all dressed to the nines.

Men in suits that screamed power, some of them shifters, their predatory eyes gleaming.

Fae with delicate, almost inhuman beauty lounged around, their presence commanding even as they reclined.

Vampires, with their sharp, elegant features, goblets of blood in hand, their predatory eyes following every heartbeat in the room.

And then there were the demons—tall, dark, and impossibly alluring.

Their expressions reflected their power.

Everyone here was playing their own game, but we were at the top of the food chain tonight.

Luca led us to the VIP area, a semi-private balcony overlooking the rest of the club.

From there, we had a perfect view of the floor below, and more importantly, we’d be able to see the rival mafia boss the moment he walked in.

Vivian and I settled on dark leather couches behind the shimmering curtains that offered privacy while still allowing us to see everything.

A waitress came by almost immediately asking for our drink order.

Vincenzo barely acknowledged her. He sat down, his movements calculated and graceful, as if he were conserving energy for the moment when he’d need to strike. Dorian followed suit, his usual playful demeanor dialed down just enough to match the seriousness of the moment.

“Scotch with blood. Neat,” Vincenzo ordered without looking at the menu.