Entangled with the Mafia Don novel Chapter 32

Ezra's POV:

The need had been a low, persistent hum beneath the surface all day. Seeing her back at the club, her forced smile as she served those leering bastards in the VIP room, had only amplified it. It was a possessive urge, a primal need to remind myself, and her, exactly who she belonged to.

So, I sent Roy. A simple instruction: bring Davina to my office after her set. No explanations needed. He understood. They all did.

When she finally stood before me, the remnants of her stage makeup still clinging to her skin, the scent of cheap perfume and sweat filling the air, a flicker of something akin to… anticipation?… stirred within me. She looked wary, her eyes darting around the room, but there was a subtle defiance there too, a spark that hadn't been entirely extinguished.

"Dance for me," I commanded, settling into the worn leather armchair, a glass of aged brandy swirling in my hand. "Just for me."

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze locking with mine, a silent battle waged in the space between us. Then, slowly, the music began. A low, sensual track I often favored in private.

And then, she moved.

Her initial movements were hesitant, almost stiff, but as the music seeped into her, a reluctant fluidity began to emerge. Her eyes, dark and intense, locked with mine, a silent challenge in their depths. She started slowly, her arms raised above her head, her fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air, her body swaying gently to the rhythm.

Then, the dance shifted. A subtle change in the music, a deeper, more insistent beat, seemed to ignite something within her. Her hips began to move, a slow, deliberate undulation that drew my gaze like a physical force. The crimson fabric of her costume shimmered with each sway, clinging to the curves of her body. It was a deliberate provocation, a silent language spoken through the movement of her flesh.

She moved closer, her gaze never breaking mine, a dangerous intimacy building between us. The air crackled with unspoken desires, with the raw power dynamic that bound us. Her movements became more fluid, more sensual, a deliberate display that both repelled and undeniably drew me in. There was a vulnerability in the slight tremor in her hands, but a fierce defiance burned in her eyes.

As the music intensified, she closed the distance between us, her hips swaying with a hypnotic rhythm, her body a living embodiment of the music's sensual pull. She moved with a newfound confidence, a dangerous grace that belied her captive status. It was a performance tailored solely for me, a private show designed to… what? Provoke? Entice? Defy?

Then, she leaned in, her movements becoming more intimate, more daring. Her hand grazed my outstretched arm as she used it for balance, her touch sending a jolt of unwanted heat through me. She was close enough now that I could smell her – the faint trace of sweat mingled with the cheap, cloying sweetness of her stage perfume, an intoxicating, unsettling combination.

Her body brushed against my leg as she leaned further, her gaze dropping momentarily to my lips before flicking back to mine, a silent invitation hanging in the air. Her breath ghosted over my face, warm and soft, carrying the faintest hint of wine she'd been drinking earlier. The unspoken command in her eyes was palpable, a dangerous dance on the precipice of something forbidden.

The impulse to reach out, to grasp her waist, to pull her closer until the fragile space between us vanished, became almost unbearable. My fingers tightened around the smooth glass of the brandy, the amber liquid swirling like a turbulent storm within. The word "Davina" formed on my lips, a low, possessive rasp in the sudden stillness as the music began to fade, the last notes lingering in the charged air, heavy with unspoken desires. I leaned forward, the unspoken command, the undeniable expectation, hanging thick and heavy in the space between us, the promise of a kiss, a claiming, a silencing of that defiant spark, imminent.

And then the damn door swung inward, unannounced, shattering the fragile, volatile intimacy of the moment like a dropped glass…

Andrea.

"Ezra?" Andrea’s voice, usually bright and bordering on cheerful, held a note of mild impatience. His presence in my office was unexpected, unwelcome. "Your father wants to see you downstairs. It's urgent!"

The intrusion shattered the fragile intimacy of the moment, the simmering tension snapping like a frayed wire. My jaw tightened, a surge of pure, unadulterated rage coursing through me. My private sanctuary, violated. This… this moment, ruined.

I shot to my feet, the chair scraping back violently against the polished floor. My gaze, dark and furious, flickered between Davina, her expression now a confusing mix of surprise and… embaressment?, and Andrea, oblivious to the storm he had just walked into.

Without a word, my anger a tangible force in the room, I turned and strode towards the door, brushing past Andrea with a curtness that made her flinch. The need, the possessiveness, the almost unbearable tension… it all remained, a raw, unresolved ache. And Davina's confused gaze, the flicker of something unreadable in her eyes as I left, only amplified my frustration. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

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