being intrigued. He knew enough about Alexander Dumas from Bertram to know that he had no clue his daughter was here, simply by the fact that she was here. Never would the rotten old bastard have permitted his last surviving child to walk through the door of a notorious nightclub. Not even with an army as escort. Bertram had equated Sophia Dumas to a modern-day Rapunzel. Locked away from the world to keep her pure. Mateo actually cringed as he imagined her punishment for stepping out into the real world her father was so hell-bent on keeping her from. Surely she knew too.
Why would she defy her father, knowing how he would retaliate? Unexpected emotion for the daughter of the legendary drug kingpin rose in him. The urge to protect her inexplicably infused him. Not just from her father but from every man salivating around her.
âItâs a damn shame,â Johnny said. âAnd a waste.â
Mateo elbowed Johnny as he moved past him. âNot if we do our job right,â he said over his shoulder.
âDonât get her in any more trouble than sheâs already in!â
Mateo grinned as he stalked the fringes of the dance floor. Johnny had forgotten that Trouble was Mateoâs middle name.
â¢Â   â¢Â   â¢
Sophia had drunk a little too much tequila and was feeling a little too carefree. It was wonderful and amazing. She tipped her head back and smiled up at the flashing colored ceiling lights. Stretching her arms out, she laughed and began to twirl. She was free. Free!
A hand grabbed her butt, abruptly ending her revelry. Sophiaâs eyes flew open as the fingers dug into her tender skin. Whirling around, she saw a tall, handsome man leering down at her. Slapping his hand away she turned from him, intending to move out of his reach. It was going to take more than his drunken gropes to make her run. She was having too much fun. Her minutes of freedom were numbered, and she was going to take advantage of each and every one of them. As she moved past her suitor, he yanked her arm. âCâmon, baby, keep shaking that ass.â
He pulled her into his sweaty embrace. âItâs so fine.â
Sophia pushed out of his arms. âPlease donât touch me.â
This time, she didnât move past him, she turned to move in the opposite direction so that he couldnât reach out and grope her again.
As she turned her gaze caught a pair of blazing topaz-colored eyes lasered on her. In that moment, her lungs froze as the music stopped, the lights dimmed and the bodies gyrating around her slowed, then disappeared. It was one of those âlightning striking you where you standâ moments.
Suddenly dry-mouthed, she licked her lips. His eyes sparked with gold fire. Her heart thudded like thunder against her rib cage. And her eyes widened when her nipples tightened painfully. She wasnât wearing a bra and she knew their reaction to him was visible. How could they not react? Ay, caramba , the magnetism of the tall, dark-haired man standing a dozen feet from her was as palpable as if live electric wires connected them.
The guy was trouble on so many levels. Her breath rushed from her lungs. And tonight she was all about finding trouble. Lots of it.
He wasnât handsome in the classic sense, though he was at least six foot three and muscled, his jet black hair cut stylishly close. His aquiline nose had been broken and reset almost perfectly, but not quite. The stubborn line of his jaw was marred by the slash of a scar that she knew was old because it blended in with his tanned skin. His cheekbones were as defined as his chin, darkened by a hint of rough stubble. In a lightning flash she wondered how the stubble of his chin would feel along her belly. The reaction that thought elicited shot straight to her sex.
Good god, and his lips. They were full with a dangerous edge to them. How would they feel locked around her straining nipples? She shivered violently
Why would she defy her father, knowing how he would retaliate? Unexpected emotion for the daughter of the legendary drug kingpin rose in him. The urge to protect her inexplicably infused him. Not just from her father but from every man salivating around her.
âItâs a damn shame,â Johnny said. âAnd a waste.â
Mateo elbowed Johnny as he moved past him. âNot if we do our job right,â he said over his shoulder.
âDonât get her in any more trouble than sheâs already in!â
Mateo grinned as he stalked the fringes of the dance floor. Johnny had forgotten that Trouble was Mateoâs middle name.
â¢Â   â¢Â   â¢
Sophia had drunk a little too much tequila and was feeling a little too carefree. It was wonderful and amazing. She tipped her head back and smiled up at the flashing colored ceiling lights. Stretching her arms out, she laughed and began to twirl. She was free. Free!
A hand grabbed her butt, abruptly ending her revelry. Sophiaâs eyes flew open as the fingers dug into her tender skin. Whirling around, she saw a tall, handsome man leering down at her. Slapping his hand away she turned from him, intending to move out of his reach. It was going to take more than his drunken gropes to make her run. She was having too much fun. Her minutes of freedom were numbered, and she was going to take advantage of each and every one of them. As she moved past her suitor, he yanked her arm. âCâmon, baby, keep shaking that ass.â
He pulled her into his sweaty embrace. âItâs so fine.â
Sophia pushed out of his arms. âPlease donât touch me.â
This time, she didnât move past him, she turned to move in the opposite direction so that he couldnât reach out and grope her again.
As she turned her gaze caught a pair of blazing topaz-colored eyes lasered on her. In that moment, her lungs froze as the music stopped, the lights dimmed and the bodies gyrating around her slowed, then disappeared. It was one of those âlightning striking you where you standâ moments.
Suddenly dry-mouthed, she licked her lips. His eyes sparked with gold fire. Her heart thudded like thunder against her rib cage. And her eyes widened when her nipples tightened painfully. She wasnât wearing a bra and she knew their reaction to him was visible. How could they not react? Ay, caramba , the magnetism of the tall, dark-haired man standing a dozen feet from her was as palpable as if live electric wires connected them.
The guy was trouble on so many levels. Her breath rushed from her lungs. And tonight she was all about finding trouble. Lots of it.
He wasnât handsome in the classic sense, though he was at least six foot three and muscled, his jet black hair cut stylishly close. His aquiline nose had been broken and reset almost perfectly, but not quite. The stubborn line of his jaw was marred by the slash of a scar that she knew was old because it blended in with his tanned skin. His cheekbones were as defined as his chin, darkened by a hint of rough stubble. In a lightning flash she wondered how the stubble of his chin would feel along her belly. The reaction that thought elicited shot straight to her sex.
Good god, and his lips. They were full with a dangerous edge to them. How would they feel locked around her straining nipples? She shivered violently