Chapter 4
Ah, art showings. They were the bane of my existence.
The people walking around the room all seemed to think that they were the most important specks of DNA on the planet.
It sent me back to my childhood: small, insignificant, and begging for scraps.
And yet now, I was above all of them. It would take nothing to kill, hurt, or sell any of them to each other.
Becoming Don of the Vitale family had taught me much, mostly that everyone had a price.
Everyone.
I sipped wine as a woman hung from my arm.
I hadn't had the willpower or fucks to give to get anything other than an escort.
This was easier, less personal. At the end of the night, I would pay her and she would disappear.
It was a hell of a lot more convenient than girlfriends or wives.
I swirled the burgundy liquid in my glass, back ramrod straight as I smiled and chatted.
My eyes darted around the room, accessing.
Monitoring. I was always on alert, never knowing when one of my many enemies would take the chance to make a move. Even my own sons plotted.
I had to be careful.
"What do you think about this late nineteenth century portrait?" Penelope, the woman showing the art, droned on. "It's so visceral. All consuming, don't you think?"
My eyes darted to it, and I choked on a chuckle.
It looked like shit. No, seriously, it was splattered in layers of brown and green that looked like a crazed chimpanzee had gotten to it.
When I chuckled, I choked it down, hitting my chest as if it throbbed.
Already I could hear my father's voice in the back of my mind.
Bastardo. Pensi che sia divertente? Stronza ignorante.
I straightened up after that, my back rigid as the howls of ghosts long gone sliced into my spine.
Right away, I was back to who I was supposed to be, any drop of silly bullshit scrubbed away.
My jaw set, hands tight on the glass that I tried not to break as I walked through the gallery, trying to find a small place for myself.
There, I could hide. At least momentarily.
And maybe even smoke a cigarette. I moved faster, with purpose, until someone caught my eye.
My steps faltered when I saw him.
What the fuck is he doing here?
Rafael stood across the room with some blond man.
He threw his head back and laughed. What the hell is so funny?
Long braids slipped over his shoulder, his face framed by shorter pieces.
The shirt he wore looked expensive, and it was open, showing off entirely too much of his chest. He looked…
good. All bronze skin, muscular upper body and slender hips that dipped into a curvy ass.
I stared, unable to take my eyes off him, but he never turned my way once.
He reached out and touched the guy's arm. My eyes narrowed.
Probably a client. He has to whore even out here?
My throat tightened as I circled the room, closing in bit by bit. His date was holding the back of his neck like I did when I stuffed my cock down his throat. And Rafael was giving those familiar star-filled eyes that seemed to shimmer in the warm overhead lights. My stomach turned.
Wasn't he just begging me to make him my personal whore a little while ago? Now, there he was, laughing it up as he leaned into the man. I watched as he subtly pressed his hips against the strangers, his lips parting slightly as if in invitation.
"Champagne?"
I jumped, something I rarely ever did, and stared at a woman holding a tray.
Her eyes were the familiar dead stare of service staff.
I placed my empty glass down and picked up the flue just so I had something to hold in my hands.
If I didn't, I would probably march over and strangle the man Rafael was with. And then he would follow.
Rafael's hazel eyes cut my way, then went back to his date. As if startled, he looked at me again. He blinked, and then a feather light smile touched his lips, the expression a little nervous.
Scared? You should be.
And then he smiled and nodded at something the stranger said before he went right back to talking. As if he hadn't seen me. Like I wasn't there. My eyes narrowed as I stared at him and desperately tried not to snap the stem of the champagne glass in my grasp.
"Excuse me," Rafael was telling the man. "I need to use the restroom. Be right back."
The man palmed his ass. "Hurry back."
My skin prickled. As Rafael made a beeline for the bathroom, I fell in line behind him.
Our footsteps were covered by the sound of classical music, a dark, violent number that crescendoed the moment my hand wrapped around Rafael's throat, and I slammed his back against the wall.
The bathroom was empty, all pristine whites, more art, and the scent of cologne that was spicy and deep; definitely Rafael's.
He grunted in my hold. "Cesare," he said, a smile tugging at his lips. "What are you doing here?"
I leaned closer as I took my hand from his throat. I anchored my palm near his head and boxed him in. Rafael's eyes searched mine, and I wanted to eat every bit of cool indifference he showed.
"Shouldn't I be asking that?" I nodded toward the door. "Who are you with?"
"A friend."
"Friends grab your ass?"
Rafael grinned. "Some of them."
My hand wrapped around his neck once more. Rafael didn't remove it, instead he lifted his head as if asking for more. That cold gaze temporarily warmed as his hips jutted forward as if they had a mind of their own.
"I should kill you," I growled. "Don't be a smart-ass with me. Why aren't you at the brothel?"
He tilted his head. "I'm not chained to it." Rafael licked his lips, and my eyes watched as he dragged it slowly along the seam of his mouth. "Besides, I have to make money, you know?"
"My money ain't good enough?" I asked as I leaned in closer.
"No."
It felt like he'd slammed a brick into my chest. For the second time in one night, Rafael had hit me with something that felt dangerously close to rejection. My hand tensed around his throat. He gasped.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I demanded.
Rafael traced my fingers as they squeezed his pretty throat. "You don't come around enough to pay my bills, Mr. Vitale. I have to do what I have to do."
"Whore."
He grinned. "Is that your favorite nickname for me?" Rafael rolled his hips and my eyes were drawn to the way he moved. "Have you considered my offer?" he asked. "All my time, no other clients, and I stay in your ivory tower at your beck and call."
I scoffed. "You want to move in with me?"
Rafael shrugged. "I'm a little tired of brothel life. Too noisy."
God, he had some serious balls on him. Who did he think he was to lay out an offer in front of me and dangle it there? I read between the lines: If I didn't take him up on his offer, he would go right back to screwing other guys. Pathetic.
It shouldn't bother me, but heat swept over my body.
I stalked to the door, threw the lock, and turned back to him.
Rafael touched his throat like it was a love note that I had left behind.
When I reached him, I snatched him by his arm and stood him in front of the mirror.
My hands laid on top of his as my gaze swept over him in the reflection.
"And what exactly do I get out of this deal?
" I asked as I undid his pants and pushed them down his hips.
Underneath he wore a sleek pair of black panties.
I toyed with the lace before I ripped those down as well.
I undid my belt, unbuttoning my pants as I gazed at his reflection.
It looked like he was holding his breath.
Anticipating. "What exactly is the benefit to me? "
Although, he had already tapped in on one perk; my place wouldn't be empty. No endless silence that went on forever only speckled with bits and pieces of sound from the TV, my speaker, or my phone. Despite what I said, I enjoyed Rafael's company. This could be a temporary thing.
You're already convincing yourself.
Shit.
I spat into the palm of my hand, and Rafael's breath hitched. Once I was all slicked up, I maneuvered between his thighs, and closed his legs so they were snug and tight around my cock. I shoved my hand into his back, lowering his chest to the counter as I thrusted against warm, inviting flesh.
"Well?" I asked.
Rafael's eyes looked a little glazed. "Companionship," he moaned. "I know you need someone for things like this. Dates. Parties. Things you wouldn't have to bother trying to arrange yourself. I would take care of it for you. Fuck," he moaned.
As his hand fluttered to his own cock, I slapped his ass roughly.
The reverberating smacking sound filled the bathroom, and he cried out.
Rafael panted as I resumed fucking into his thighs, using them for my pleasure while I left him to squirm.
After showing up with some asshole, he didn't deserve to get off.
"Sex on demand," Rafael said. "Or just someone to eat dinner with." He smiled in the reflection. "And you know I give a killer massage."
Now, that was true. I rolled my shoulders just thinking about his hands rubbing over every inch of my body after a long day.
Rafael had a talent for finding each and every knot in my body and working it out with a ferocity that would make other men sob.
But when the pain faded, I felt the most relaxed I had in years.
I rocked my hips forward sharply and Rafael moaned for me.
My speed picked up, and I frowned as I thought about him returning to his customer, arm in arm, and them fucking somewhere tonight when the art showing was done.
I fisted both of Rafael's braids, twisted them around one hand, and chased after my pleasure while he moaned and groaned like a whore for me.
"Cesare," he panted in the mirror. "Come on."
"Come on what?" I asked.
"I need… I need…"
"Who gives a fuck what you need?" I snapped. "Why don't you go back out there and ask that asshole to get you off?"
"Should I?" Rafael asked, eyes holding something sharp and dangerous. "Okay."
When he tried to get up, I slammed him back down onto the counter.
I spat on my cock and bucked into his thighs like a teenager rutting for the first time.
When I came, it was with stuttering breaths and a deep pant.
I pulled back from his hot, soft flesh. I jerked my cock off into his panties, spreading my seed into the fabric before I stepped back.
"Pull them up," I demanded.
Rafael made eye contact with me as he tugged the panties over his still hard cock and pressed my cum into his skin.
Fuck. He dipped his fingers into his panties, and I watched, transfixed, as he lapped me off his fingers.
Finally, he pulled up his pants and started fastening them again.
He washed his hands, splashed a little water on his face, and then, without a word, tried to walk past me to leave.
I grabbed his arm and dragged him back to me. "Where do you think you're going?" I growled.
He turned to gaze at me. "Back to my date, of course."
It took everything in me not to smack him. Instead, my grip tightened. I yanked him against my body.
"The only fucking person you're going home with is me. Now," I snapped. "Better have Grand Myah send your shit."
Rafael stared at me. "Does that mean we have a deal?" he asked, lips curling into a smile that said I had just gotten played.
My heart fluttered. I shoved a cigarette into my mouth. "Let's talk money."