Dante’s pov

I tightened my fists. "Where at?" The club was dimly lit, populated by men who whispered, where every handshake signified a transaction and each transaction was a betrayal lurking around the corner. Elena was seated at a rear table, a wine glass held in her flawlessly manicured hand. She was grinning before she even laid eyes on me. I slipped into the chair opposite her. "Are you having fun?" She inclined her head. "You consistently spoil the enjoyment, Dante." I wasn't feeling ...