The children were being watched by close friends and security. The idea seemed absurd to you, but discussing it with Remo was impossible. Tonight was a party—more precisely, a girls’ night with your best friends, Leona and Kiara. Going out alone was unthinkable; your men would have to take out every man in the club before letting you wander freely.

The club was packed, the music hammering against your ears, the bass vibrating through your chest. Remo, Fabiano, and Nino trailed behind you like shadows, ready to tear out anyone’s eyes who dared look at you three.

Leona rushed first into the VIP area, hot pants flashing, her tight shirt clinging to her body, heels sharp as weapons. Kiara followed in a red dress that caught every flicker of light, drawing attention to her curves. Your glittery dress felt almost too tight as you hurried after them. Remo had been dissatisfied with it, but you had promised him something, and that had been enough to make him relent.

Once in the VIP area, you grabbed the expensive alcohol and took a long, burning sip before passing the rest to the others. The men settled onto the plush sofas while you dove into the music, hips swaying on instinct, laughter spilling from you like champagne. You lost yourself in the chaos, wild and unrestrained, while your men probably discussed work, meetings, and business—boring.

Time passed in a blur. You couldn’t remember how many bottles you’d drained, or how many times Remo had snatched them from your hands. Leona was half-asleep on the sofa, still clutching a bottle. In the corner, Kiara and Nino were lost in their own world, lips pressed together, oblivious.

You barely noticed Savio arriving with Gemma until his hand snatched the bottle from your grasp.

Hey! Give it back! I had it first! Your words stumbled, too drunk to sound serious.

Savio laughed, mocking you in a childish tone. “Hey, give it back—”

You shoved him clumsily, a weak hit to his chest that still made him stumble back. You reached for the bottle again, demanding it.

“I’m really sorry to disturb your fun, but you’re too drunk,” he said.

You mimicked him, your voice slurred and playful. I’m really sorry to—

Then Remo stood. The shadow he cast fell over you, the air around you sharp, tense, like a knife pressed against your skin. Everyone froze. You expected him to strike, to roar, to tear Savio apart. But he didn’t.

He simply stayed there, still, looming. His gaze fixed on you, unblinking. The disappointment in his stance was louder than any words. Your heart sank as the weight of your actions pressed down on you. The wild freedom, the laughter, the reckless drinking—all of it felt suddenly heavy, suffocating. Tonight, you had been unrestrained, but the consequences had found you without a single word spoken.