Page 2 of The Don's Secret Heir

“Vodka. And filthy.”

She nodded and went about her task while the older man’s eyes turned to mine.

His were a soulful, dark brown, almost black. And they looked intrigued as they stared down into my face.

“And who are you?”

“Who are you?” I asked pointedly, and he chuckled.

“You know who I am.”

I stared at him.“I really don’t. My father works for Viktor Gallo.”

He frowned.“You really don’t?”

I shook my head.“Not everyone knows who you are, Mister Ego.”

He blinked at me, as if surprised, and then barked out a laugh.“Alright, miss. I’ll bite. What’s your name?”

“Liana Rossi. My father is?—”

“Dante.”

I nodded slowly.“So you know Viktor?”

“Unfortunately,” he drawled.

I bit my lip. I didn’t want to say Viktor was a good man—he wasn’t—but he’d been good to me. Good to my father.

“He’s your enemy?”

“He’s certainly not an ally.” He shifted, turning to face me.“I’m Dario Conte.”

Conte. I’d heard the name, knew Dario was an up-and-comer. His father was the one with the power, but Dario did a lot of the legwork.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said politely.

“You wanna get the hell out of here?” he asked, leaning down to whisper it in my ear.

I frowned.“I haven’t even gotten my martini yet.”

He grabbed the martini out of the bartender’s hand, sliding her a folded hundred-dollar bill.“Drink.”

I looked at him curiously for a moment, trying to decide if I wanted to throw caution to the wind. I looked around for Marisa but of course, she was nowhere to be found. Probably hooking up in a linen closet somewhere.

I shrugged and chugged my martini, the vodka burning down my throat before I placed it on the bar.

Dario grinned and took my hand.

We made it as far as the elevator before he stepped closer to me, backing me up against the wall.

I looked up at him, my breath catching in my chest.

“My place or yours?” he hummed, his voice low, like honey spreading across my skin. His breath felt hot on my throat, he was so close.

“Yours,” I mumbled. I didn’t bring men home since I lived with my father. Not only would it be awkward, but he’d interrogate them. He was a little overprotective.

Dario brushed his impossibly soft lips across my throat and moved away as the elevator doors opened.