Bound by my blood

Chapter fifteen

This is a double update so if you've just pressed on this from the notification check you've read chapter fourteen.
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The bass thrums through my veins, deep and intoxicating, pulsing in sync with the alcohol swirling in my system. The dim club lights flicker against the polished marble floors, casting shadowy illusions across the bodies moving in rhythm to the music.

I push back onto Mira, rolling my hips with deliberate exaggeration, knowing full well that Vincenzo's stormy gaze is locked onto me from across the room. Holding eye contact, I smirk, emboldened by the vodka burning in my throat and the electrifying energy in the air.

Mira laughs, throwing her head back, her dark curls bouncing. Beside us, Yara twirls around in a giddy blur, nearly toppling over in her drunken daze. The sight is so ridiculous that I can't help but giggle along, the sound bubbling up in my chest, light and free.

Then, on impulse, I drop down as fast as I can, my hands brushing the cool floor before I shoot back up, throwing one arm high in the air to steady myself. Mira catches my wrist mid-motion, twirling me effortlessly before pulling me into her space.

She leans in, her breath warm against my ear. "Boss is on his way over here," she murmurs, voice barely audible over the thumping music. "And he does not look happy."

I snort, my body swaying slightly from the alcohol. "He can suck my dick," I announce far too loudly, a hiccup cutting through my words.

And then, just like that, Vincenzo is there.

He stops in front of me, tall and unyielding, his presence so overwhelming that it sends a ripple through the space around us. His midnight eyes bore into mine, dark with a simmering fury.

"Stop whatever the fuck you're doing," he growls, voice like a blade slicing through the haze of my buzz.

I blink up at him, unfazed. Then, using all my weight, I shove him in the chest.

He stumbles back—not much, but enough to make my lips twitch in satisfaction. "You don't tell me what to do," I slur defiantly. "I mean, I'm just the new member, right? That means you can't stop me from having fun."

Gasps ripple through the crowd. A few people exchange nervous glances, no doubt expecting Vincenzo to snap, but I don't give him the chance. I spin away, my dress flaring at my hips, and start dancing again—music or no music.

"Don't be so fucking rude, you whore!" a sharp voice shrieks.

I turn lazily, my gaze landing on the girl who had been eyeing Vincenzo all night. She looks furious, her perfectly manicured nails curling into fists.

Without hesitation, I lift my hand and flip her off, swaying slightly on my feet.

Her face twists in rage before she lunges.

She slams into me, knocking me backward. The impact sends me sprawling onto the floor, and she's on top of me in an instant, her hand drawing back for a punch.

She never gets the chance.

Before she can swing, I grip a fistful of her hair and yank with all my strength. She lets out a sharp yelp, giving me the opening I need. Without thinking, I press my fingers into a pressure point near her collarbone.

Her body goes rigid. A second later, she slumps to the floor beside me, completely knocked out.

The silence is deafening.

I push myself up onto my elbows, blinking down at her before giggling. "Eh, she'll wake up soon," I say airily, brushing imaginary dust off my dress. Then, turning my gaze toward Vincenzo, I beam up at him.

"Are you proud of me, my little sugar plum fairy?"

The look on his face is absolutely priceless.

A mixture of shock, disbelief, and poorly concealed rage twists his features. Around us, the partygoers stare in stunned silence. Even Mira, usually the first to laugh at my antics, has her mouth slightly open, as if unsure whether to be impressed or horrified.

I reach out and grab Vincenzo's arm, using him as leverage to haul myself upright.

"You can go back to your very serious mafia party now," I chirp, wobbling slightly as I head for the alcohol table.

"Alexa," he warns, voice tight.

I spin around dramatically, planting my hands on my hips. "That's Mrs. Lombardo to you, mister," I say sternly—before bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

The alcohol hums in my veins, making my limbs feel weightless. Swaying to an imaginary beat, I start singing Lovefool under my breath, twirling lazily. I know people are watching. I feel their eyes, but I don't care.

Not when, for the first time in weeks, I feel alive.

Then, out of nowhere, arms wrap around my waist, yanking me backward into a firm, unyielding chest.

I crane my neck, blinking up at Vincenzo's stormy expression. His grip is firm, unrelenting.

A slow grin spreads across my lips.

Without warning, I bring my knee up—hard.

He grunts as the impact lands squarely between his legs, his arms instantly dropping from around me as he doubles over.

I pat his back sympathetically. "Oops."

Then, giggling, I wobble my way over to Angelo, who watches me with a mixture of amusement and concern.

I grab his face between both hands, squishing his cheeks. "Angelo," I whisper, swaying slightly, "you're so pretty."

"Alexa," he sighs, "I think it's time for bed."

"Nooo," I whine, pulling away dramatically. "Bed is boring. I wanna dance. I miss my family. I just wanna have fun for once."

"If you go to bed, we'll call your family in the morning," he bargains.

I stop swaying, narrowing my eyes. "Promise?"

"Yes."

The thought of my parents—of Nico, of the familiar chaos of home—makes something in my chest tighten.

I hear a few people chuckling at my antics. My head snaps in their direction.

Then, I hear it.

"She's embarrassing herself. Vincenzo deserves so much better."

My vision blurs instantly.

If they think he deserves better, then maybe they should marry him.

I stumble toward the voice, my expression unreadable. "You bitch," I slur, pointing a shaky finger. "If you think he's so perfect, you marry him. Take him. I didn't want to marry the fucking princess anyway."

Vincenzo is beside me in an instant, scooping me up effortlessly before I can fall.

I thrash in his arms, but it's pointless. He's solid as a rock, completely unaffected by my flailing.

"I'll be back soon to speak to the rest of you," he says coolly to the onlookers. "I apologize for her... performance. She's not supposed to drink."

Then, quieter, just for me, he mutters, "Bedtime for my pain-in-the-ass wife."

I give up as we reach the stairs, resting my cheek against his chest.

My eyelids feel unbearably heavy.

"This doesn't mean I like you," I mumble sleepily.

Vincenzo chuckles. "Of course not."

His voice is softer now, almost... fond.

"We're going to have serious words in the morning, little one."

I hum in response, my body sinking into exhaustion as the world fades to black.