Win, win.
As much as a solution Sofia is, Vito refuses to hand over a member of his family to the enemy. There may not be a game tonight, but with the rise in hostilities, there isn't a safe place in New York for Gianna or Sofia right now. If the wrong personsees her here, Vito may not get the chance to send his demands in response.
With Beehive being underground, in every sense of the word, the lounge is a set of rooms with the sharing walls knocked out, lavishly furnished for our more esteemed guests with its own private bar. Five minutes pass, then ten; Luca and Sofia are nowhere to be seen. How long does it take to lure one girl down a hallway? Damn it, Luca. Another few minutes of pacing passes before I grab an armchair, situating it to face the door. If I'm going to stage an intervention, might as well look the part.
Watching the minute hand continue to move around my watch, seven more minutes pass before the door opens slowly, just a crack at first. Luca's fingers wrap around the doorknob while he leads her in. A laugh dies on her lips and the blood drains from her face when the door clicks shut behind Luca, her green eyes landing on me.
"What the fuck?" She looks between Luca and me, betrayal written clearly in her dark, furrowed brows. "What is this?"
"What?" I lean forward in the armchair, resting my elbows on my knees and giving her my best 'caught you' smirk. "You didn't think we'd let you go anywhere in the middle of the night without your security detail, did you princess?"
"Don't call me princess," Sofia snaps. Turning back to Luca, she lunges at him, palm open to strike. "You son of a?—"
"Woah there, your highness," he chuckles, catching her wrist and holding her arm away. "It's your brother-in-law's club. You didn't think your appearance would go unnoticed, did you?"
Her eyes widen before irritation and embarrassment flush her cheeks. If looks could kill, we'd be having Luca's funeral tomorrow.
"Luca," I nod for him to leave. "Door is behind you, shut it on your way out."
Sofia crosses her arms, inadvertently drawing my attention to her cleavage. For a second, I'm jealous of Luca for the time he spent feeling her up as a diversion. Virgin or not, she is more than appealing to any man with eyes. Dark hair cascades down her back in waves, black eyeliner sharpens her glare. The metallic fabric hugs her curves like it was poured onto her body. My nonna would've crossed herself three times just looking at that dress.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I ask, forcing my eyes back to her face.
"I don't have to tell you anything," she says, anger coloring her tone. "Can I go now?"
A dry, humorless laugh escapes me. "You aren't going anywhere by yourself. We are going to be leaving Beehive and stopping to have a chat with the boss before taking you home." Standing from the chair, I cross the room to her in a few short strides. Her eyes move over me, as if sizing me up. As if she's trying to calculate whether she could take me in a fight.
Good luck with that, princess. I've got at least one hundred and fifty pounds on her.
Unwavering, she quirks up an eyebrow with her response. "No."
Sofia's refusal stops me in my tracks. As Don Vito's enforcer, it's rare to have anyone refuse an order I give. It's even more rare for their refusal to not be returned with violence, but I don't feel like getting my ass handed to me for hurting her. Besides, it'd be a shame to mess up that pretty face over something as stupid as stubbornness.
"I wasn't asking." My tone hardens. "This isn't negotiable, princess. You will walk out the door behind you. You will walk with us to the car, and we all will be having a chat with the boss."
"No." She repeats, taking a step around me to sit in the chair I previously occupied. She crosses her legs, but leans forward,giving me another look at the top of her breasts—daring me, tempting me to play into whatever plan she hopes to pull off tonight. Fists clenched, I look up to the ceiling and take a deep breath. Madonna mia, grant me patience. Sneaking her out of here without being seen was going to be difficult enough—practically impossible if she doesn't agree to come willingly.
"You know what, fine." I shrug, taking a step back in her direction and pulling a handkerchief out of my pocket. "Have it your way." Not giving her a chance to react, I close the distance between us. The handkerchief is balled up and shoved into her mouth before her arms are pinned to her side and she's thrown over my shoulder. If she won't walk out of here willingly, she'll be carried out with a gag, so nobody hears her scream.
In attempt to get loose, she manages to kick off her heels. Great, one less thing for her to use as a weapon against me in the car. She tries to yell, but it's quickly cut off by a choked cough. She squirms and fights my grasp as I carry her down the hall and out a service entrance where Nico waits. Luca must have switched places with Marco after leaving the lounge because Marco stands beside the car door, holding it open and ready to assist if she tries to bolt.
Setting her on her bare feet, I grab her wrists to keep her from trying to hit me and push her head down to shove her in the car, quickly climbing in after her. Once Marco shuts the door behind me and is in the passenger seat, Nico lays into the accelerator and the tires shriek as he peels onto the busy street. Sofia doesn't say anything; she just rips the gag out of her mouth and puts as much distance as possible between us in the backseat of the Rolls-Royce.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" I start. "We are at war and your family is the target. In what world did you think it was a good idea to sneak out to a club in the middle of the night? What, you thought you'd just waltz in, bat those pretty eyes,and walk out without consequences? Shit doesn't work that way, princess."
"Please," she scoffs, "it's not my family. It's Vito's family—I'm just targeted by association. We both know you're not concerned about my safety, so don't pretend to be. You only care about me being at the club because my presence might screw over your boss."
"Our boss," I correct, relishing the way her eyes narrow at the correction. Sofia's been against working for Vito from the beginning, so hearing her deny him isn't all that shocking. My words only seem to piss her off more. Her face reddens and she reaches for the door, but it doesn't budge when she pulls against the handle. A low chuckle escapes me. "The child locks are on. It's not exactly favorable when the person we transport tries to throw themselves out of a moving vehicle. Doesn't exactly keep us inconspicuous."
Sofia lets out a frustrated scream, muffled through her clenched teeth. "Let me out!"
"No," I reply, mimicking her earlier tone with an exaggerated pout. "Sucks when someone says no to you, doesn't it, princess?"
"God, none of you fucking get it do you?" She drops her head into her hands and bites back another frustrated scream. After a few moments, she lifts her head and glares. "Tonight was never about my safety; it was about me getting to choose what I want for myself. If I knew Beehive was Rosso owned and operated, I wouldn't have shown up, trust me. Although, losing my virginity in one of his enterprises definitely would have been a great 'fuck you' to him."
Marco freezes in the passenger seat before looking at her from the corner of his eye as if to ask, "What do you know?" Slowly, he faces forward, staying silent to listen to whatever else she might say.
I laugh again, "By what, pimping yourself out? That's low, even for you. Here I was thinking that sneaking into administrative meetings was the lowest you'd go. Besides, having that stamp on the inside of your wrist makes you untouchable, anyone with a brain wasn't going to come near you unless they were trying to lure you somewhere."
