Chapter 5
Five
JULIAN
I need to get laid.
For the past twenty-four hours, all I’ve thought about is Natasha, and that’s a big problem, considering she’s about to marry my son in just a matter of days.
Lusting after my future daughter-in-law is not something I’m proud of, and not something I’d admit to anyone else.
The issue is, I haven’t gotten my dick wet in too long. I’ve been busy with work, getting Elliott out of trouble, and helping my brothers with their businesses. It’s time to make a visit to Rapture.
I never walk in through the front door. My brothers and I come and go through Rome’s private entrance.
Tonight is no different. I nod at security and then make my way to the bar, where Rome’s wife, Eloise—Lulu for short—is busy mixing drinks.
She’s a beautiful woman, with long dark hair and pretty brown eyes and a curvy body that Rome’s obsessed with.
Let’s be honest, he’s obsessed with every little thing about her.
I’m happy for him.
“Hey, Julian,” Lulu says with a grin. “Your usual?”
“Please.”
She nods and grabs a glass, then pours two fingers of Macallan into it before sliding it over to me.
“How’s it going?” she asks me. “You missed family dinner on Sunday.”
“I’m sorry, I was out of the country.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Fancy.”
With a smirk, I take a sip of the whisky.
Sunday dinner is something Lulu started just after she and Rome got together.
She’s an excellent cook, and she loves using her talent for large groups of people.
So, each week, she invites me, Mateo, and Carson to dinner, along with our number twos and her friend Scarlett.
Nothing brings this woman more joy than feeding us. And we all adore her and her cooking.
It’s not a hardship by any means.
And I try not to miss it, but this past Sunday couldn’t be helped.
“What did you cook?” I ask her.
“Do you really want to torture yourself with that question?” she counters, resting her hand on her hip with a knowing smile.
“I can handle it.”
“I made chicken parm with fettuccini alfredo and—”
“Okay, I really don’t want to know.” My stomach growls at the thought, and she sends me a knowing smile.
Chicken parm is my favorite.
“I’ll make it again soon. Don’t miss this coming Sunday, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I haven’t quite finished my drink when Rome is suddenly at my side.
“With me,” he mutters quietly, and I know that whatever he has to tell or show me isn’t good. Before we walk away, he turns to his wife. “You good, Firefly?”
“I’m great.”
He nods and then leads me to the elevator.
“What’s up?” I ask when we’re in the car.
“I need to show you,” he replies, shaking his head, and when the doors open, he leads me to the control room, where monitors are set up with live feeds from all over the club. “You know that we have cameras in every room, even the private rooms, for security purposes.”
“Sure.”
He taps some keys, and suddenly the screen changes to one of the privacy rooms. I can clearly see that my son is fucking some woman—Miranda, if I remember correctly—and he smacks her breast hard, making her flinch.
“Sound?” I ask, and Rome hits another key.
“You see this, you stupid bitch? Look at how much she loves my cock. I’m going to fuck her ass next, and make her bleed good.
This is what I expect out of you. This is what I’m going to do to you, every day for the rest of your fucking life,” Elliott spits out. “This is how you satisfy your husband.”
“Who’s he talking to?” Rome asks.
“Is there another camera? She’s off—fuck, he’s got Natasha in there. Which room?”
“Six,” he says, and then I’m running with Rome on my heels.
“Call the men,” I tell him. “I want six of them.”
He nods, already tapping his screen. Not bothering to wait for the elevator, I take the stairs two at a time, then race down the hallway to the private rooms and try the knob for room six, but it’s locked.
“I have a key,” Rome says, pulling a master key card out of his wallet, and when the light turns green, I rush inside and see nothing but red at the scene before me.
Natasha is in a chair, her dress torn and body bared, shaking, her eyes glassy and staring off in the distance like she’s in shock.
Elliott is fucking the shit out of Miranda, who has a black eye and is weeping, murmuring her safe word over and over again.
“You piece of shit.” I’m on him in a flash, yanking him off the woman, and punch him in the face, making him cry out. “What the fuck have you done?”
His eyes are manic and full of glee at the destruction he’s caused as our men file in.
“Get him in the cell,” I instruct them, and Elliott’s eyes turn to me.
“What the fuck, Dad?”
“In the cell,” I repeat.
Rome already has Miranda wrapped in a blanket, and I ignore my kid, who’s yelling and throwing a fit as he’s dragged away, and immediately squat in front of Natasha.
“Hey.” I reach up to brush her hair off her cheek, but she flinches, and I have to work to keep the rage down, so I don’t scare her, curling my hands into fists. “Natasha, it’s Julian. I’m not Elliott. He’s not going to hurt you.”
“You said that before,” she whispers, still not looking at me. She’s rocking back and forth and doesn’t even try to close her ripped dress to cover herself, as if she’s forgotten the state she’s in.
Fucking fuck.
I promised her he wouldn’t touch her again, and he did it the very next day. The next motherfucking day.
“I’m getting Scarlett and Eloise,” Rome says. “Then we’ll go to the basement.”
I nod but don’t take my eyes off Natasha.
“I know, I did. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he’d do this.” I shake my head and let myself look down at her body so I can cover her, but then I notice the bruises that run up and down her ribs. They’re fresh.
When I look back up at her face, I can see new marks on her, the lip is reopened.
She’s been worked over something awful, and I see fucking black.
“Natasha. Look at me.” My voice is harder than I’d like, but I’m so damn pissed that I want to roar.
“Here’s a blanket.” I glance up at Scarlett, the manager of the playroom and Eloise’s best friend, as she offers me the blanket for Natasha. “I’m right here, and Lulu’s on the way.”
“Thanks. Natasha, I’m going to cover you. Is that okay?”
Her nod is shaky, and she’s still not looking me in the eyes as I drape the warm blanket around her. She gathers it to her, nuzzling into it.
“Who bruised your ribs, sweetheart?”
She frowns at me, like she doesn’t understand what I’m saying.
“Who hurt you today, Natasha? You have new bruises that weren’t there last night.”
“My f-father,” she whispers. “Got in trouble for making Elliott mad.”
I’m going to kill them all.
“And your face?”
“Papa,” she replies.
“Did Elliott hit you today?”
Slowly, Natasha shakes her head, and her lower lip trembles. Christ, I want to scoop her against me and comfort her, but from what I’ve gathered, Natasha doesn’t like to be touched.
And who can blame her?
“He made me watch.” She swallows hard. “And he hurt her. He said I have to do that.”
Her blue eyes are wide and pleading as they finally turn to me.
“Please don’t make me.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. And I know that I fucked up my promise from last night, but I’m telling you right now that no one is going to hurt you again. Not your father, not Elliott. No one.”
“You can’t promise that,” she says softly, eyeing Lulu as she walks into the room. “Because that’s just what they do.”
“Never again,” I repeat. “You’re going to go with Scarlett and Lulu. They’re going to take care of you while I go to work.”
Natasha frowns, confused.
“Why would they do that? I can just go home.”
“Nah, you should come hang out with us,” Scarlett says, her voice soothing. “Lulu’s penthouse is ridiculously gorgeous, and you can borrow some comfies from us. Relax and feel better.”
“But why?” Natasha asks.
“Because you’ve had a shitty night, and we’re here to help you feel better,” Lulu replies.
Natasha’s shaking is gone, but her eyes are still glassy.
“Take her up to the penthouse,” I tell the girls. “I’ll check on her when we’re done downstairs.”
“You got it,” Lulu replies. “Come on, honey. We’ve got you.”
It takes everything in me to leave Natasha with Lulu and Scarlett, but I know they’ll take good care of her, and I need to get in that room with my son.
It’s time he learns a lesson.
Rome’s waiting for me in the basement of Rapture, outside the cell we use to torture information out of people.
“What the fuck, Julian?”
I stop and rub my hand over the back of my neck.
“You’ve met Natasha, his fiancé.”
“Yeah, but why the fuck was he making her watch him torture Miranda? She was saying her safe word, and he ignored her. You know what I do to assholes who do that in my club.”
It’s not tolerated, and they typically end up dead.
And honestly, Elliott deserves that for what he did in that room.
For hurting those women.
For once again showing the goddamn world what a weak asshole he is, thus putting my entire empire on the line. Every move my son makes is absolutely unacceptable. No one threatens my family and lives to tell about it.
“Oh, he’s going to pay for it. For what he did to Miranda, and what he’s been doing to Natasha.”
“Did he put those bruises on her ribs?” Rome asks me.
“No, she says her father did that.”
Rome shakes his head. The Kings of Vegas aren’t good men. We do a lot of shady shit, but we don’t hurt women, and we’re working on dismantling the flesh trade in this city, which is taking longer than any of us are happy about.
“Sergei’s also going to pay,” I say, eyeing the door to the cell. “I’m not going to kill my son, but he’s not leaving here whole.”
Rome’s face is grim.
“Look, if you want me to handle it, I can. Or if you want to call in Mateo and Carson, we can do this for you. You don’t have to torture your own son, Julian.”
All I can see is Natasha’s beautiful face, so fucking scared and bruised, and the anger still pulses through me. I know that if I walk in there right now, I’ll end him.
I’ll kill my child. Because he’s grown into a monster, and I won’t tolerate that.
“Call the others,” I reply, letting out a breath. “And maybe I’ll calm down a bit while we wait for them.”
Rome nods and pulls out his phone, and I do the same, calling Jack so I can fill him in.
“I’m on my way,” Jack says grimly. “Julian, this can’t keep happening. You can’t keep him in the family. It’s a disgrace, a weakness. Your enemies will think you’re an easy target.”
I blow out another breath, pacing the hallway as Jack tells me exactly what I already know.
“I’m aware.”
“Which means the alliance with the Russians—”
“You leave that to me,” I growl into the phone. “I’ll take care of her.”
Jack pauses. “Do you have feelings for the girl?”
“Just get here.”
I hang up and Rome turns to me. “They’re on the way.”
“Jack is as well.”
The door opens and Rome’s number two, Luke, steps out.
“He’s pissed himself,” Luke says with disgust.
A slow smile spreads over my lips. “Good.”