Bloody Heart: A Second Chance Mafia Romance (Brutal Birthright Book 4)

I came to the ball to surprise Simone.

I bought a ticket, at an outrageous price, from someone who had actually been invited. Then I got out the one and only suit I own, and even found a mask.

I did all that to see her smile when she realized I’d infiltrated the one party we could attend together without anyone seeing my face.

But then I showed up. I drank in the wealth and power in the room. Every rich and influential person in Chicago, and from cities all around. I scanned the room full of beautiful people, looking for the most stunning woman of all.

And I saw her dancing with another man.

I recognized Simone immediately. No one has skin that glows like hers, or a figure that outshines even the most ostentatious gown. She makes every man in the room drool with envy. The lucky fuck she was dancing with knew he was miles out of his league.

But I was jealous anyway. So fucking jealous I could barely breathe.

I could tell the kid was rich just by his watch and his suit. In fact, I was pretty sure he was the same little shit she was talking to at the Young Ambassador’s Dinner.

I wanted to break his fucking legs for dancing with her.

He knew how to dance. He looked like he’d been doing it all his life—and he probably had. He had style, bearing, manners—everything I don’t. And he had Simone in his arms.

So I ripped her away from him. Literally pulled her right out of his hands and took her. I spun her around that floor until she was dizzy, showing every stiff-shirt in that room that she was mine, and I’d take her whenever I wanted.

But it wasn’t enough. Not even close to enough.

So now I’m pulling her off the dance floor, out of the ballroom, all the way out of the party entirely.

Some idiot in a security guard’s uniform tries to stop us.

“Excuse me, sir—sir!” he calls.

I grab a wad of bills out of my pocket and stuff it into his hand. “Shut the fuck up and show me which way we can go to be alone,” I tell him.

He stares at the money for a second, then mutters, “That way. Just don’t touch anything, okay?”

I pull Simone away through the empty galleries of the museum. I’m dragging her along, my hand locked around her wrist.

She’s hurrying after me, stumbling a little in her high heels, with the heavy, cumbersome skirt of her gown slowing her down.

“What are you doing?” she gasps. “Where are we going?”

I have no idea.

I’m just looking for a place. A place where no one can see us or hear us. Where I can take possession of Simone once and for all.

Finally, we come to the Napoleon exhibit. Most of the lights are dimmed. I see a pale plaster death mask, military medals, hand-written letters under glass, a diamond-encrusted sword, a row of glass cologne bottles, and a pair of embroidered slippers. Portraits of the emperor, muskets, and a battered bicorne hat.

And then what I was looking for: a long velvet chaise, emerald green, with four carved legs and pillows at one end. It’s roped off, but otherwise unprotected.

I pick Simone up and I throw her down on that chaise.

“What are you doing!” she says, terrified. “We’re going to get in so much trouble—”

I shove the mask up off my face and I silence her with my mouth crashing down on hers. I kiss her voraciously. I taste the champagne on her tongue. I’m going to wipe every memory of that other man off her flesh. Everywhere he touched her, I’m going to touch her harder.

The chaise groans under my weight. I don’t care. I’ll splinter the whole damn thing with Simone underneath of me. I’ll bring this whole museum, and every artifact inside of it, crashing down around us.

There’s only one thing of value in here: Simone.

She belongs to me. Only to me.

I try to free her chest from the heavy bodice of her gown. The material resists me, and I rip it open. Her breasts spill out. I grope them hard, pinching her nipples until Simone gasps and moans.

I pull up the skirt, too.

She’s wearing thigh-high stockings and lace panties underneath. I rip those off. I push my fingers inside of her. She’s soaking wet, as I knew she would be.

I’ve already waited too long for this.

I’m done waiting.

I set my cock free from my trousers.

It’s raging hard, dying to sink into her warmth and wetness for the very first time. I tell myself to be gentle, to go slow. But my body isn’t taking orders from my brain anymore.

I put the head of my cock at her entrance.

And I plunge inside.