But the heart wants what the heart wants. Even when what it wants could destroy everything.
The Dangerous Dance, an all-new dark mafia romance, and book one in the brand new Costello Syndicate series from bestselling author Lena Vox is Available Now!
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LIAM
My family’s bleeding out and I’m the only one who gives a damn. My brother’s drunk on rage and whiskey, the Italians think we’re weak, and now there are Russians asking questions about our operations. I don’t have time for distractions.
Then she walks into my world and I don’t realize she’s the knife aimed at my throat until it’s too late to care.
NADIA
My mission is simple: infiltrate the Costello empire, find the fracture points, and let it collapse. I’m a Russian intelligence asset, a trained weapon in a ballerina’s body, and I never fail an assignment.
I didn’t account for Liam.
He’s ruthless, brilliant, and the only man I’ve ever met who sees through every mask I wear including the one I didn’t know I was still putting on. Falling for the target isn’t just forbidden. In my world, it’s a death sentence.
But the heart wants what the heart wants. Even when what it wants could destroy everything.
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Keep Reading for a look inside The Dangerous Dance!
“Tell me,” he says. Low. “Tell me if this is not what you want.”
“This is what I want.”
“Tell me again.”
“This is what I want.”
He kisses me again, and this kiss is different. The first was an answer. This is the question, asked properly, with the patience of a man who has been waiting to ask it.
I let him ask it.
His mouth is warm and unhurried. His hand at my jaw slides into my hair, finds the base of my skull, holds me there. Not restraint. The opposite of restraint. The weight of a hand choosing to be exactly where it is.
My hands find the front of his shirt.
I work the buttons one at a time. He lets me. Does not help, does not move, just stands there with his hand in my hair and his mouth still on mine and lets me do this thing at my own pace. The buttons are pearl, small, turning under my thumb. My fingers shake on the third button. I do not try to hide it.
When the shirt opens I push it aside and put my palms flat against his chest.
Both hands. Skin. He is warm, surprising even though it should not be surprising. Under the heat, his heartbeat. Slower than mine. I can feel the fine dark hair across his sternum and a small scar at the edge of his ribs that I have not asked about and will not ask about today.
His hand comes up and covers mine. Just that. Holds it there against his chest.
“Nadia,” he says.
“I know.”
For more information about Lena Vox and her books, visit her social media: https://www.instagram.com/lenavoxauthor/
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