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belle âme (m) a beautiful soul

EMILIANO

The irresistible urge to push Rosabelle against the wall and feel every curve of her body right when she emerged from her house in that midnight blue dress was so irresistible that I felt as though walking away would have been the better choice.

However, I seldom chose the better when my obsession presented itself to me in her finest glory. Rosabelle gazed at me with a passion that mirrored my own, her beautiful baby blue eyes ablaze with desire.

She knew the effect she had on me, but she didn't know that I was sparing her for her own good.

However, I was, after all, a selfish man.

And I knew that one day, I might give in to my impulses and leave my mark on my beautiful Bella's innocence.

"Aren't we going to wait for Tatiana?" She asked timidly from beside me as she settled into my car, confusion painted her face.

Tatiana was never meant to join us at Vittoria's Venue in the first place, Bella wanted her to go, so I made a way for her was well. But that didn't mean she could tag along with us.

"I've sent my me—an Uber to pick her up from her home," I muttered, nearly letting slip the words 'my men,' which I had intended to keep hidden. Bella raised an eyebrow in response. "I see. She could've come with us, though."

No, she couldn't.

"Yes, but I wanted us to go alone," I explained, not entertaining the idea of sharing her my original thoughts. She snorted at my response, drawing a smile from me in return.

Soon, we arrived at our long-awaited destination, Vittoria's Venue. Rosabelle looked out of the car window, her eyes widening in shock at the sight.

Woman. Somehow I felt like she'd see a man eating nail and be awed by it as well.

It seemed that she was easily surprised by everything and anything, as if amazement was etched onto her face whenever she encountered something new.

I found it amusing.

I found her amusing.

"I can already sense the prestige surrounding this place, Emi," she whispered from beside. "No wonder it's so popular."

It had taken years to build Vittoria's Venue's reputation among the people of Russia after my brother bought it from its original owner, Igor Sokolov. Now, the club's renown extended beyond Russia's borders and was known internationally.

Though it wasn't me who helped building the reputation, but I was prideful that it was one the members of my family.

"You've only seen the exterior so far, Belle," I said with a smile. "Save your excitement for the interior as well, yeah?" Her face lit up even more at my words as she nodded enthusiastically.

And I couldn't help but feel a strange tightness in my chest at her reaction.

I opened the car door for her, and she followed my lead once she stepped out. Together, we made our way into the club, where we were met with a vibrant atmosphere that pulsed through the walls.

Vittoria's Venue was a haven for social elites, a place where opulence and extravagance reigned supreme. The club's grandeur was evident in its lavish decor, from the dazzling chandeliers that hung overhead to the plush velvet furnishings that adorned the lounge areas.

Rosabelle fell silent, momentarily leaving me puzzled. I had expected her to react with more surprise and shock, but instead, I was met with a blank expression.

Then, she uttered words that took me by utter surprise. "I've never been in such a club before," she confessed, her sense of awe gradually returning and replacing the blank look from earlier.

In that moment, I understood the nervousness in her voice, which explained her earlier expression. She took a moment to absorb the significance of her first club visit and then decided to admire the view.

And I admired her.

'That's... shocking, Bella,' I replied, still somewhat taken aback. I knew that traditional Italian mafia families were often strict, but I hadn't realized they were that rigid.

I met Rosabelle at first at a local club, which actually was barely one. Just the bars and all.

At that moment, I was almost convinced that Rosabelle never had sex before. I was also convinced that I was completely unhinged when this mere thought stirred arousal within me.

"I know," she replied, blushing slightly and probably thinking I might call her weird.

I'd rather cut off my arm than do that.

"It's normal, darlin'," I reassured her, wrapping my arm around her waist and drawing her closer to me, suppressing the sensations that coursed through my groin as I felt her warm, petite body against mine. "Don't you worry about it."

I smiled down at her as she looked up, her unease dissipating.

"Rosabelle!" The familiar voice of her friend broke our gaze, and we turned our head to see the owner of the sound. Rosabelle's eyes immediately brightened upon seeing Tatiana. The other girl waved at her from a distance, accompanied by an unfamiliar companion.

The woman beside me attempted to leave my embrace and head toward her friend. An annoyed groan almost escaped my lips as I contemplated pulling her back. But right when I was about to do that, her frame retreated itself near mine.

Confused, I shifted my attention back to Tatiana, only to find her back turned to us as she moved to another corner with her companion. Rosabelle blinked in surprise, clearly feeling awkward.

And more annoyance flooded through me.

She shouldn't have left my woman like that.

Just because Tatiana was Rosabelle's friend, I spared her the embarrassment of dragging her back and forcing her to apologize to Rosabelle.

I couldn't do that even if my every impulses screamed at me to.

Instead, I attempted to divert Rosabelle's attention back to me. "Aren't you going to have a drink, Belle?" After a moment's hesitation, she nodded, and I led her to the bar.

"Zdravstvuyte, gospoda. Chto by vy khoteli vypit'?"

The bartender's greeting in Russian pulled our attention. His gaze briefly lingered over Rosabelle before settling on me. It trembled slightly upon seeing me, but at my signal, he restrained himself from showing any unnecessary respect.

I didn't bother translating his words to Rosabelle. Instead, I asked her, "Is this your first time drinking as well, Bella?" She blushed at my question and gave me a quick shake of her head. "No. I've had a drink before... but not much."

I fought hard to resist the urge to kiss that adorable pout off her lips.

"Which drink would you like to try first?" I made a mental note to instruct the bartender to not give us any strong liquor.

As much as I was tempted to watch Rosabelle's drunken state, I don't trust myself not wanting to break free of my restraint and do something to the naive woman. So it's better if she stays sober for the night.

"Um... how about a strawberry gin and tonic?" I almost laughed at how she said it. But then decided only to go with a nod and not embarrass the little woman any further.

"Two strawberry gin and tonics," I told the bartender, and he acknowledged with a quick nod before going to prepare the drinks.

I rested my arm on the table and finally turned my full attention to Rosabelle. Her curious eyes shifted from the surroundings to meet mine. "So, how do you feel, darlin'?"

"Good. Actually, too good," she replied dreamily. "I never expected the club to be so... lavish. It's mesmerizing." She released a sigh as her eyes drifted to the ceiling adorned with intricate designs. "I really don't know how to appreciate this anymore, Emi. A simple thank you doesn't seem enough."

She returned her gaze to fix on mine, and I could seen how genuine she was. I couldn't help wondering how she remained so good-spirited despite coming from a family that thrived in bloodshed.

A smile formed on my lips. "You're happy, Bella. That's appreciation enough for me." I couldn't fathom where my overwhelming sincerity was coming from.

Then she asked, "Can I ask you something?"

"You've already asked," I replied with a chuckle. She snickered and shook her head. "Can I, please?"

"Yes, Bella. Go ahead."

"Do you own this club too?"

I won't deny that her question caught me off guard. I was indeed surprised by the depth of her curiosity and how far it could reach.

I let out a chuckle. "No, Bella," she frowned, likely wondering how I gained access when even her father couldn't. Her thoughts were an open book. "I'm not the owner."

"How did you get us in then?" she inquired the question I could see literally written on her face, her curiosity unwavering. So I leaned in slightly, and whispered, "My sister-in-law is the owner."

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