Six

The VIP lounge in the bar was filled with Marco’s men. Soft tunes played in the background, scantily clad ladies sashayed from one end to the other. The bartenders were refilling the glasses as quickly as they emptied.

The men were talking loudly and would occasionally burst into laughter. None of it mattered; it was all background noise, all of it except her.

Arabella.

She was seated on the couch next to Marco, wearing that black leather dress that clung to her like it was made just for her. It accentuated her figure. Her hair was swept back, her lips were a bright red, and by God, did she...