Commanding The Room

Adrian’s POV  

She’s late. I try to focus on the conversation at the table, but it’s pointless. These gatherings are always full of fake people with fake smiles. They act friendly, but I know they’d stab me in the back if they got the chance. As I glance around, I can’t help but wonder which one of them planted the bomb that changed my life.  

It wasn’t the Italians. I’m certain of that. If it were them, the whole warehouse would’ve been rigged. Instead, someone slipped a device under my car. I was lucky the trigger went off a few seconds too early, but still, I know it had to be someone who had access to my schedule. A few of those people are sitting here with me now.  

I reach for my whiskey to pour another glass when my uncle, Leonard, whistles and points his cigar toward the entrance.  

“Nice legs,” he says.  

I look in the same direction and see her. She’s wearing a long green dress with black embroidery along the neckline and waist. The slit on one side shows a glimpse of her leg as she moves. My eyes follow the fabric up to her face, and for a moment, I don’t recognize her.  

Nila Roberts.  

She’s changed. The nose ring is gone, and her hair is styled in an intricate updo. I can’t believe this is the same woman I met days ago. The men at the table start making comments, crude jokes that make my blood boil.  

“Is that Thomas’s wife?” one asks.  

“No way.”  

“Must be his daughter,” says another. “I wouldn’t mind spending some time with her.”  

Their laughter grates on my nerves.  

“Enough,” I bark, my voice sharp.  

The table falls silent. A moment later, the conversation shifts, and I turn my attention back to Nila. She’s standing with her father, smiling at something one of the men says. I feel a surge of jealousy. I want to wipe that smile off her face or, at the very least, make sure no one else gets to enjoy it.  

“Is she your type?” Leonard asks, elbowing me.  

“Maybe.”  

“She’s cute, but not your usual choice.”  

“Leave,” I say, refilling my glass. “Take the others with you.”  

“What?”  

“Find another table, Leonard. Now.”  

He mutters under his breath but stands. A moment later, the other men follow him. Finally, I lean back in my wheelchair, watching Nila across the room.  

Nila’s POV  

As soon as we walk in, I feel it, a burning sensation on the back of my neck. It’s probably nerves. I’m surrounded by well dressed people who smile and chat as if they have nothing to hide. But how many of them have blood on their hands?  

I grab a glass of wine from a waiter and notice him, Adrian Di Salis. He’s sitting alone at a table in the corner, his dark eyes fixed on me. My heart races.  

Well, Adrian, I clean up pretty well, don’t I?  

The last time we met, the dark restaurant didn’t give me a clear look at him. But here, under the chandeliers, I see him in full detail. He’s dressed in black trousers and a charcoal shirt, the top two buttons undone to reveal the edge of a tattoo on his chest. His sleeves are rolled up, showing more ink on his forearm.  

I didn’t expect him to have tattoos. It doesn’t fit the image I had of him. But now, seeing them, I can’t picture him without them.  

Adrian isn’t like the handsome men I’ve met before. Those men, with their perfect features, were easy to admire but easy to forget. Adrian is different, dangerous and intense. If I had to describe him in one word, it would be “lethal.”His dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and slightly imperfect nose all combine into a face that’s impossible to ignore. His piercing eyes hold my gaze, and I feel like prey caught in a predator’s sights.  

Without looking away, he pulls an empty chair closer and nods for me to join him.  

“Nila Roberts,” says the man beside me, “Mr. Di Salis wants to speak with you. Don’t keep him waiting.”  

My stomach flips. Taking a deep breath, I force a smile and walk toward the most dangerous man in the room. Am I walking to my doom?  

I stop in front of him and extend my hand. “Mr. Di Salis, you wanted to see me?”  

Instead of shaking my hand, he lifts it to his lips and kisses my knuckles. My skin burns where his lips touch, and he holds my hand just long enough to make me uncomfortable. His hand completely dwarfs mine.  

“Adrian,” he says in a deep voice, sending butterflies swirling in my stomach.  

I sit down, smoothing my dress over my legs to hide their trembling. When I glance at my father, he’s still standing with his group, all of them watching us.  

“Is this how it usually works for you?” I ask with a fake smile. “You nod, and women come running?”  

“Most of the time.”  

“That must be nice.”  

“Not really,” he says, his eyes scanning the room.  

The other guests are sneaking glances at us, but they quickly look away when Adrian catches them.  

“Nila,” he says, turning his attention back to me. “If we didn’t have this deal, would you have come when I nodded?”  

“Not a chance,” I reply