**Lucia’s POV**

"Why are we here?"

The question slipped from my mouth before I could stop it.

The moment we crossed the entrance of the club, the air changed. It was thick with the scent of expensive cigars, aged whiskey, and the kind of tension that makes the hair on your arms stand up.

My voice sounded tiny, almost pathetic, instantly swallowed by the low, pulsing throb of the bass and the murmur of men’s voices.

Raffaele didn’t even glance back.

He walked ahead of me as if he owned ...