Savage Mafia King (Vicious Heirs #3)

Chapter Three—Marcus

"This is a bad idea."

Giovanni leans in the doorway to my bedroom as he watches me straighten my tie and pull a brush through my hair. I ignore him. He's had the same shit to say since I told him what I'm doing here, and I'm not going to let him convince me of anything else now that the plan is in motion.

"I'm not that bad a dancer," I shoot back, and he cocks an eyebrow at me.

"You know that's not what I'm talking about."

"Yeah, I know," I reply as I turn to him. "But I'm in it now. And it's going to work for us in the long run, trust me."

He shakes his head slowly as he looks me up and down. "You really think you can handle getting close to a Devereaux like that?"

"Look at what happened with you and Elena," I point out, referencing the relationship he got into with the woman who was supposed to be a mortal enemy of our family. "Maybe we'll find some common ground like you two did, huh?"

He stiffens slightly. Though he would never want to admit it, he hates the idea of comparing his relationship with Elena to whatever I'm doing with Isabella.

"It's different."

"How, exactly?" I ask him as I reach for the glass of scotch sitting on my bedside table. "At least I'm being honest with her. She knows this isn't real. We're just putting on a show to scare people away from her brother."

"And what exactly is in it for us, again?"

"We make peace with the Devereaux family. And the more convincing we are about it, the harder it's going to be for them to cause us trouble down the line."

He steps aside and lets me past, following me down to the lobby of his parents' mansion. Valentina, his sister, is waiting in the living room. She insisted on helping me get ready when she heard what I was up to, and I appreciate her wanting to give me a hand. Though I'm not sure what it says about her trust in my ability to blend in to an upper-crust crowd.

She looks me up and down as I reach the living room and rises to her feet, a furrow in her brow. She grabs my jacket and straightens it slightly and reaches down to adjust my cufflinks.

"Yeah, I think this will do," she murmurs.

I chuckle. "Your endless support is always appreciated, cousin."

She glances up at me. Her mouth is set in a hard line. She has a hard time hiding her emotions, and right now, they're written all over her face.

"Don't do anything stupid," she warns me. "And don't get yourself into anything you can't handle. You hear me?"

"Heard and understood. I should get going. I have to pick Isabella up."

Her shoulders slump downward slightly as she hears me come out with that. "I can't believe you're actually spending time with that... with that woman ."

She spits out the word, like she doesn't even want to acknowledge any of this to be real. I understand it. Her parents raised her with the certainty that their family was solidly above all else, and allowing anyone else close would only serve to get them in trouble. But as for me, I know that creating alliances is important. And with a crack in the armor of the Devereaux family, we finally have a chance to secure them.

"You'll have to get used to it," I tease her. "Who knows, maybe I'll bring her to a family dinner."

"Oh God, you're joking, aren't you?" Isabella calls after me as I make my way down the corridor.

I grin. Okay, yes, I'm joking, but there's a wicked part of me that loves the idea of making my family sit around a table with Isabella, playing nice, pretending they don't hate her guts.

I slide into my car, a sleek black sports car that's my pride and joy. If I'm going to be rubbing shoulders with the richest people in our university's community, then I have to do it in style. Isabella gave me the address of her penthouse to pick her up from. I had assumed she would just have me get her from the sorority house, but clearly, she doesn't like the thought of me down there. Can't say I blame her. I'm not exactly Greek house material.

I head to the address she gave me, and sure enough, when I get there, she's waiting outside. She looks beautiful in a blue dress made of a deep, soft velvet that hugs the slight curves of her willowy body. Her hair is pulled back, showing off her slender neck, accentuated with a necklace that dangles a small diamond on her chest. She climbs into the car, hardly even looking at me.

"You look beautiful."

"You don't have to start all that now," she shoots back, voice terse. "Nobody is even around to hear it. Come on, let's go. I want to get this over with."

I part my lips, intending on protesting that my words were anything other than sincere, but I can tell from the tone of her voice that she doesn't much want to have this conversation right now. So be it.

I drive us over to the large converted church, where most of the university's major events take place. Outside, there's already a small gathering of people, impeccably dressed and holding invitations to the gathering.

When she steps out of the car, I notice eyes turning to her. She really does run this campus. Guys look her up and down, and girls shoot her envious looks, clearly wishing they were the ones commanding all this attention. I grin, climb out of the car behind her, and slip my arm around her waist.

The whole world stills for a moment. Everyone is staring at us. Her body tenses, and I can tell she's fighting the urge to pull away from me. But she doesn't. I tighten my grip on the curve of her waist slightly, feeling the warmth of her body close to mine. She might be cold as ice, but there's no denying the heat between us. I'm sure she can feel it just as clearly as I can, and I have to admit, it's entertaining seeing her try to deny it.

"Come on," she mutters to me, plastering a smile on her face. "Let's get this over with."

We make our way to the entrance, where she brushes past the line. The man at the door nods at her in greeting and then steps aside for her to walk in, me right beside her. I don't let go of her for a moment. If she thinks I'm going to let her slip through my fingers, she has another thing coming. I want everyone to see that she belongs to me, everyone to know that she's chosen me, and I'm not going to let up until I have exactly what I desire.

"Oh, Isabella, there you are!"

A bright voice greets her, and I glance around to see an impeccably dressed older woman with a Termina pin on her chest making her way toward us. She must be one of the previous heads of the sorority, a position that Isabella holds now.

But she falters as she gets closer. Her gaze flicks to me, and I offer her a smile, waiting for Isabella to step in and introduce us.

"Who's... who's your date?" she asks, keeping her voice as neutral as she can.

I can tell she's freaked by my presence. Good. Though I know it's just the teenage rebel who still lives inside of me, there's a part of me that sincerely enjoys knowing that I'm causing such a scene.

"This is Marcus," Isabella replies, and she plants her hand on my chest with an ease that surprises me. She seems more comfortable than I would have expected with my presence, not letting me throw her off her game.

"Marcus...?"

"Silva."

The woman takes in the shock of that name, glancing between the two of us. Her eyes widen slightly as it all sinks in, and I can feel Isabella's breathing starting to rush from her chest, the rise and fall of it pressing against me.

"Oh, well," she blurts out finally. "Great to meet you, Marcus. I'm just going to..." She doesn't even bother filling out the rest of what she's saying as she scurries away from us.

Isabella bites back a groan. "This isn't going well," she mutters.

"It's one person," I remind her. "You told me you could make anything work, didn't you?"

"Yes..."

"Then make it work."

I look down at her, and as she gazes back up at me, I can see that flash of fear in her eyes, the part of her that knows not to defy me, no matter how much she might want to in this moment. She inhales deeply and then nods.

"Let's dance," she suggests, and she pulls me toward the large dance floor.

The flagstone laid out beneath our feet is cold, but the music filling the air from the band playing next to one of the stained glass windows is warm enough to make me feel more comfortable.

She loops her arms around my shoulders, drawing in a little closer to me. I breathe in the scent of her. The perfume she's wearing is sweet, almost too sweet for her. I know her as this formidable force, and yet, the soft scent wafting from her neck is like vanilla and doughnuts fresh from the fryer. I want to press my face into it and inhale it properly, lose myself to the smell of her, but I force myself to hold back. I slip my hands to her hips, finding a pace that we can both sway to as the music plays.

"Everyone is fucking staring at us," she murmurs as she glances around the room.

She's right. Everyone is looking like they can hardly believe this is happening, and I can't blame them. If you were to put together a list of the people least likely to spend even a fraction of a second with each other, I'm pretty sure the two of us would be at the top of it.

"If you want to sell this," I warn her, "then you better start now."

Her breath hitches in her throat. I can hear it. I'm close enough that I can make out the sound of her breathing, feel her chest stuttering as I speak to her. I don't mean it to sound like a threat, but there's no denying that it does. She holds me a little tighter, arching her back to draw herself closer to me, and I don't move my eyes from hers as the music slows to a sultry beat.

There are other people on the floor around us, but I can't pay attention to any of them. No, all I can do right now is stare back at her. I can smell her, practically taste her in the air. Can she feel it, too? Maybe there's more to this than I want to admit, more to our closeness than I'm willing to give words to. I don't want to pull back from her, though I know I shouldn't be making my desire so obvious.

No, that's exactly what I should be doing right now. We're trying to sell this, right? And if we're going to pull this thing off, then we're going to need to convince everyone here that we're seriously attracted to each other.

I slide my hands to the small of her back, pulling her against me a little harder, and she lets out a slight gasp.

"Just let me take the lead."

My words seem to soothe her, and she slackens slightly in my grip, moving her head to my shoulder. My fingertips graze just along the top of her ass, and I can't help but notice how hot she looks in this dress. I've always thought of her as this uptight woman who would rather quit her role at the sorority than let anyone touch her like this, but her body moves with an almost practiced grace. She might have a reputation to uphold, but it's clear this is far from the first time she's allowed herself so close to a man.

As the music throbs through the air, I lower my lips to her ear. "See?" I murmur to her. "Not so bad, is it?"

She doesn't reply. She might want to shut me down and tell me that she still doesn't want to be doing this, but her body is telling an entirely different story. She can't deny this heat between us.

And more importantly, she doesn't want to.

Finally, the song comes to an end, and she extracts herself from my arms all at once, like she's come tumbling back down to earth, reminded that we're in public and there are people around us, watching us, taking us in.

"I need a drink," she tells me. "And... and we need to introduce you to some more people here. Make sure they know who you are. And that we're... together."

"Good girl," I murmur as I slip my hand into hers. She shoots me a look but doesn't argue with me. She knows better than to do that.

She pulls me toward the watching crowd, putting a smile on her face to make it look as though she's never been happier. And though I know it's a lie, it's a lie I'm willing to play along with for now.