DERRICKS’ POV
I stood near the balcony, holding a cigar in my hands. I needed it to calm me down.
I took a long drag, inhaling deep, letting the nicotine burn its way through my chest. It was the only thing keeping my nerves in check. Antonio had made his threat clear-he would stand against me at the table, and that was not something I could afford. He had a name that carried weight. His father had once been one of the godfathers. That legacy alone made the old men at the table listen to him, respect him. And now, with my seat hanging by a thread, I could not let him turn them against me.
I exhaled, watching the smoke curl into the night air. Losing my place wasn’t an option. It was my father’s legacy, something I had bled for, killed for. Everything I had worked for would be undone if the godfathers saw me as weak, as incompetent. I would never get the chance to be the next Don. And Henry, my bastard of a stepbrother, was already waiting like a vulture, ready to take what was mine.
Who the fuck had messed with my shipment? Why had this been happening more than often?
I was always able to boast of having the best security especially with my delivery. Someone on the inside was sabotaging me. but why? And who? This must be someone close to me. My circle is tight and that’s what made me even more confused.
I clenched my jaw, replaying every possibility in my head. There were too many moving pieces, too many enemies who would love to see me fall. But someone had gone too far, and they had made it personal.
“Boss,” Santi’s voice cut through my thoughts. I turned slightly to face hm “Do you want me to take care of Antonio?”
I flicked the ash from my cigarette. I knew exactly what Santi meant. He could send a message-one that Antonio would never forget. Or he could take care of him permanently.
“No.” My voice was firm.
Killing Antonio would make me look desperate, reckless. The godfathers would see it as an emotional reaction, a move of a man losing control. “Not yet.”
Santi frowned but nodded. “Then what do you want to do?”
“I’ll handle Antonio my way.” I took another drag and exhaled slowly. My mind was already crafting my next steps. “Killing him now makes me look weak, like I couldn’t outplay him. I need to prove I’m still the man they can trust.”
Santi crossed his arms, leaning against the railing. “You really think the godfathers will side with him over you?”
I let out a dry chuckle. “It’s not about siding, Santi. It’s about power. If they think I’m slipping, they’ll push me out without a second thought.”
A familiar figure approached. Ace. He bowed his head slightly in greeting before speaking. “Boss.”
I nodded. “Tell me you’ve caught the mole.”
Ace’s jaw tightened. “Not yet.”
I cursed under my breath, flicking the cigarette away. “Then find him.”
Ace hesitated. “We’re trying but boss, I have a questionYou need to think-who benefits the most from your downfall?”
The answer was immediate. “Henry.”
Santi shook his head. “No. Henry wouldn’t be stupid enough to pull something like this. He’d know we’d find out.”
I scoffed. “You give him too much credit. Henry is greedy. Greedy and stupid is a dangerous mix.”
Ace was saying something else, but I barely heard him. Movement caught my eye from across the ballroom. My pulse slowed, then quickened.
Joan.
She was on the dancefloor. With another man.
Everything else faded-the gala, the threat, the cigarette smoke still flying in the air. My fingers curled into a fist as I watched her move. Her gold dress caught the light as she twirled. She was smiling. Laughing. With him.
My jaw locked.
I didn’t know what pissed me off more-the fact that she looked so goddamn beautiful, or the fact that it wasn’t me making her smile like that.
The moment I saw her, my vision tunneled. Joan. On the dance floor. With another man.
The cigarette between my fingers burned down to the filter, but I barely noticed the heat on my skin. My pulse pounded, a slow, deadly beat, my hands twitching at my sides. The bastard had his hand on her waist, and I swore I could see his thumb move, caressing the fabric of her dress.
I wanted to kill him. Right here, right now.
Santi and Ace were talking. Right now, their voices were nothing more than muffled background noise to the roaring in my head. I shouldn’t feel like this. She wasn’t mine. This was a contract. A lie. Our engagement was just a means to an end.
So why the hell did I feel like I was ready to rip a man’s throat out just for touching her?
I took a deep breath, forced my hands to relax, and turned to Santi and Ace. “Handle it. I’ll be back.”
Neither questioned me. Santi gave a short nod, Ace bowed his head slightly, and I turned away before they could see the annoyance in my expression.
The gala continued around me. The sound of conversation and laughter blended with the orchestra’s melody. I moved through the crowd with a singular purpose. My eyes were locked on the man still dancing with Joan. A muscle in my jaw ticked as I approached.
Joan was laughing at something he said. Her eyes were bright and she was smiling.
That smile should have been mine.
I tapped the man’s shoulder. “I’d like to dance with my fiancee.”
The man blinked at me, startled. Then, as if realizing who I was, he took a quick step back. “Of course, Mr. Stonewood. My apologies.”
I didn’t acknowledge him. My focus was solely on Joan as I took her hand. My grip was firm. She let me pull her in. Her brow lifted in surprise. I placed my other hand on her waist. I could feel the heat of her skin seeping into my hands.
Sparks.
Damn it. I ignored the sensation.
“I didn’t take you for a dancer,” Joan said in a teasing tone.
“I don’t dance.”
She tilted her head “Then what exactly are we doing?”
I ignored the question, shifting us into the rhythm of the waltz. It was second nature, another skill my father had drilled into me for the sake of appearances. But I had never danced with a woman in public before. I never wanted to.
Yet here I was.
Her scent filled my lungs-soft, floral, intoxicating. I fought the pull, fought the way my body reacted to hers.
Joan’s lips parted slightly. Then, as if realization dawned on her, her eyes widened, and she gasped. “Oh my God.” A slow smirk spread across her lips. “You’re jealous.”
I clenched my jaw. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She let out a breathy laugh. “You so are.”
“I don’t care who you dance with.”
“Really?” She tilted her head. “Because you looked like you were about to murder that poor guy.”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. She wasn’t wrong.
Joan chuckled. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you actually lose your composure.”
“I’m not losing anything.”
“Mm-hmm.” She clearly didn’t believe me. “You should be more careful, Derrick. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you actually care.”
I met her gaze. My grip tightened slightly on her waist. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
She bit her lip. Something flashed in her eyes. Something dangerous. Something I wasn’t ready to face.
The music shifted, slowing slightly. I twirled her, watching as her gown reflected around her, mesmerizing in the golden light. When I pulled her back to me, she landed against my chest. Her breath hitched.
Our eyes locked.
Her hand rested on my shoulder. Her fingers barely gripped the fabric of my suit. I could feel her heartbeat against my chest, mirroring my own-fast, erratic. Too much. Too intense.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t feel this way.
But I did.
She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and I hated that she was getting under my skin. That she had this kind of power over me. I was Derrick Stonewood, for fuck’s sake. No woman had ever affected me like this.
By the time the music ended, we were both breathing heavily-and not from the dancing.
I was in trouble.
Big trouble.