When Enemy Hearts Collide: Nico & Shaye Duet: A Dark Mafia Brother's Best Friend Romance by Luciani Kristen

Author:Luciani, Kristen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-08-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

SHAYE

I run my fingers through the long, dark waves that cascade over my bare shoulders. My eyes are shadowed and thickly lined, and my puckered, dark red lips pop against my skin. I take a deep breath and smooth down the front of my dress. Okay, dress is an understatement. It looks more like a long bathing suit that definitely won’t cover my ass if I bend over. Actually, I’m not sure it covers it when I’m standing, either.

I stare at my reflection. I look ready to take a long stroll down Hollywood Boulevard, but tonight isn’t about putting on a show for the masses. It’s about grabbing the attention of one person who is slipping through my fingers more and more with each passing day.

He won’t come to me, so tonight, I’m going to him.

I secure the wig with a few more bobby pins and slip my feet into shoes that should be designated as illegal weapons since I could literally slice through someone’s chest with the spiky heels.

I just want Nico back, the way he was before he pulled that trigger, the way he was when we were just sneaking around. The way he was when we were happy.

It didn’t last for too long, but it was perfect.

I need that perfection back, and it all starts tonight. I have to grab control of this spiraling situation before it’s too late. I have to be the strong one right now…for both of our sakes.

I grab my clutch bag and take a few tentative steps into the hallway of my parents’ house. Luckily, Max is already at the club, and Mom and Dad are out. Nobody will be around to witness my slutty transformation, and that’s a damn good thing since this dress really doesn’t leave much to the imagination. It could, in fact, get me thrown in jail.

I dip my head low as I push open the front door and pull it closed behind me. I don’t need anyone seeing me loitering here. I look like a freaking prostitute, albeit a high-priced one.

My heart thumps in my chest as I take quick, tiny steps toward my car. Short, sharp pants escape my lips. The thought of taking a deep breath would be laughable if I could squeeze one out. I’m wrapped so tight in this pleather-spandex fabric mix, I’m surprised my eyeballs haven’t popped out of my head from the pressure.

Somehow, I slide into the driver’s seat of my Infinity RS50. I pull off one heel, slip on a flip flop, and press the button to start the ignition since I can’t very well drive in stilts. I know what I’m doing. I know where I’m going. I just don’t have any fucking clue what to expect when I get there.

I’ve been warned more times than I can count to stay far away from Culaccino, Nico’s very exclusive, very mysterious club in downtown Manhattan, and I’ve listened. For the most part, anyway. Curiosity had grabbed hold on occasion,

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