There was no better place for me to be than at the heart of Lake Como. Even if I'd have been born by a Vicar, somehow I'd have fucking made it to this side of the street, doing what I loved best.
I stood in the VIP area of one of the strip clubs I had no business being in—the Selarnos owned this one, but I knew it was the smallest of their strip clubs, and so neither Vittorio nor Vincenzo was going to be here, at least not tonight.
I held a drink in hand, looking down at the crowd—especially the strippers—as blue and purple lights cast long shadows across the chairs and tables.
I'd never had to do anything to have a woman's attention. They always swarmed around me.
All I had to do was show up, and the women would show off.
Some women winked and batted lashes at me—I was irresistible, and the ladies always would kill to have my attention—but somehow, with the thoughts of Ayla, I wanted none of that.
