Wild Angel: A Dark Mafia Romance (A Crime Family Affair Book 2) by Logan Fox

Author:Logan Fox [Fox, Logan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stormy Night Press (Pty) LTD
Published: 2021-06-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Nyx

I can barely sit still, I’m filled with such childlike glee. The expression on Savage’s face is worth every fucking heart-pounding second I spent in the elevator. I’m still not sure whether he’ll pull over the car and punish me somehow.

“You want a smoke?” Vito asks, holding out a pack.

“Stopped years ago,” I tell him.

“A drink, then?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you’ve got fucking ants in your…” he trails away.

Is it that obvious that I’m not wearing underwear? I close my legs a little tighter, just in case.

“Just glad to be out of the villa,” I tell him. “I was getting cabin fever.”

“In a nine-thousand square foot house?” He snorts. “Please.”

I roll my eyes and turn to look out the window. It’s better than accidentally catching Savage’s heated glare in the rearview mirror every few seconds.

I might have gone too far with the dress.

We pull up outside Seven Sins, but this time Savage stops his black SUV right by the entrance. The queue is down the block—it’s only nine at night, but the club is pumping.

A man in a smart black outfit with the club’s logo embroidered on his breast pocket jogs up to the car and slides into the driver’s seat once Savage is clear.

Caesar comes around to my side of the car and opens my door, but his attention is on the line of people waiting to get in, then the club’s entrance, then the road.

Always expecting an attack, isn’t he? It must be so fucking exhausting.

Vito climbs out and joins us. This time we don’t walk in single file—Vito hurries up beside Savage and effectively creates a wall with their bodies.

I glare at the back of their heads.

When I try and move up beside Savage, he grabs me around the waist and bundles me against his side. Then Vito steps in front of me.

Christ, you’d swear I was naked.

“Stop manhandling me,” I snap, trying to peel Caesar’s fingers away from my hip.

“You chose the dress.”

“You said you didn’t care,” I whisper furiously.

Savage ignores this.

He guides me inside the club, then through the throng of club-goers, toward the back. I’m so certain we’re heading upstairs again that I start to head in that direction, but Savage’s strong arm turns me away.

We’re in a partially closed-off area. A few steps lead up to a dais that looks out over the dance floor. Silver ropes close off entry but a bulky bodyguard—also with the logo on his pocket—unhooks the rope and steps aside for us.

White velvet couches. A mirrored drinks table. Two buckets with bottles of vodka and beer nestled inside the ice. Four men I don’t recognize, but who Savage does.

He nods to them, and they stand up to shake his and Vito’s hand. Me they barely look at. Like Vito, they probably figure it’s a dangerous move.

“I’m hungry,” I tell Savage.

I’m not being dramatic—we missed supper.

“Quiet,” he says.

I scowl at him and then turn around to talk to the bodyguard who let us through the ropes. “You guys

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