Two
Maxim
I call Elen and put the phone on speaker. I’d rather keep driving and let the cool air fill my lungs, but I roll the window up so I can hear her better.
She picks up on the second ring. “Hey, Casanova. You on your way back?”
“Hello, pretty tits. Miss me?”
“Oh, you’re in a good mood. That means either a good fuck… or a good kill.”
My grin stretches from ear to ear. This woman knows me too damn well.
I skip the small talk and get straight to it. “Elen, I’m coming to Heaven tonight. Keep Mia available.”
Mia’s one of our most skilled escorts. Gorgeous girl. A fucking goddess when it comes to seduction.
“Ahh, so it was option two that put you in such a good mood. I know you trust me, Maxim, which is why tonight, I’m giving you someone else instead of Mia. Just hired her. The moment I saw her, I thought—this one’s exactly your type.”
My right brow arches. “Her tits?”
“Seventy-five.”
“Ass?”
“Round and juicy.”
“Stomach?”
“Flat as a board.”
“Skin?”
“Soft as sin.”
“Hair?” That one actually matters more.
“I’m keeping this one a surprise. Gotta leave your favorite organ something to fantasize about.”
I smirk. “So she’s a redhead. The only question is, natural or one of those bottle jobs again?”
“Maxim, Maxim…we’re not in fucking Ireland. Natural redheads are rare as unicorns. But this one dyed it so perfectly, she looks more legit than the real thing.”
“Fine. I’ll be there at eight sharp.”
“I’ll have her ready and waiting for you, darling.”
I hang up and roll the window back down, breathing in air that feels cleaner than it did a week ago, because it no longer passes through the lungs of the bastard I drained the life out of. The bastard I waited twenty-five years to gut. Since I was eight.
Now there’s only one fucker left between me and the end of my nightmares. Just one more piece of shit to put in the ground so I can finally sleep without wanting to rip someone apart.
Just one motherfucker left.
Leonardo Scavia. The last of my mother’s killers.
***
As soon as I step into the room, I pour myself a drink and walk straight to the floor-to-ceiling glass wall overlooking the club below.
Everything looks good. The bar is packed, the girls are swirling around the poles, showing off everything they’ve got to lure in customers, and the lust in the men’s eyes promises a very profitable night.
This is the room I always use for sex. A private VIP suite that belongs to me, and me alone. Aside from the king-sized bed with red satin sheets, a well-stocked minibar, and a two-drawer cabinet filled with condoms, there’s not much else in the room. There doesn’t need to be.
When I hear a knock at the door, I call out without taking my eyes off the view. “Come in.”
The door opens... but I don’t hear it close. I turn on my heel, and freeze.
The girl standing by the open door makes me pause for a beat, my drink halfway to my mouth. Is this the girl Elen was talking about? Tonight’s surprise?
Damn. She nailed it.
Then I hear her voice—soft, almost timid, laced with a hint of shame. “Are you Maxim?”
The corner of my mouth lifts, and I answer with nothing but a slight nod. Already, all the blood in my body is rushing straight to my dick.
I finish off the Scotch in my glass and gesture toward the door as I make my way to the minibar.
“Close the door, sweetheart,” I say.
She obeys instantly.
I set the glass down and head toward her. I get so close she flinches, trying to step back, but she’s already backed against the door. There’s nowhere for her to go.
“I was just trying to—” she stammers.
I cast a shadow over her and raise my finger to her plush lips, my voice a low murmur. “Shhh, sweetheart. Let me look at you first.”
Her eyes widen, and a soft flush blooms on her pale cheeks. Under the dim red lighting, I study her face.
My hand brushes through her long, curly hair cascading down to her waist, and as I stroke the vibrant red curls, I wonder how this deep, rich wine-red could possibly be fake. I’ve never seen a woman pull off such a natural-looking color.
My fingertips trace up to her brown eyebrows, arched above warm honey-colored eyes that pull me in without trying. Faint freckles dust the skin beneath them, making her look even more like a fucking doll.
Her high, sculpted cheekbones lead down to a sharp, kissable chin, the kind I’m about to trace with my tongue any second now.
Now that I’m done taking in her face, I slide my index finger across the soft, fuckable flesh of her lips and drag it downward.
When the pressure of my finger lifts, she speaks again. “I came here to thank you.”
I’m so drunk on her beauty, on the magnetic energy pulsing off her, that I hear her words with my cock, not my ears. Dipping my head into the hollow of her neck, I inhale deep, and fill my lungs with the scent of spring flowers.
My voice comes out as a low murmur against her skin. “I know a lot of ways to say ‘you’re welcome.’ I’ll show you all of them tonight.”
“But I think you’ve got me—” Her words get cut off by a few knocks on the door.
The idea of someone interrupting me right now makes my blood boil. I lift my head from her neck and roar, “Get lost! No one comes near me until I say so!”
She startles at the violence in my voice, her body tensing.
I take her hand and lead her toward the bed. Standing by the bedside, I meet her wide, frightened eyes. “Want a drink?”
She just shakes her head, a small no. Time to get back to business. My gaze drops to the swell of her breasts, pushing against the loose, long-sleeved black top she’s wearing. From this angle, I can’t tell the size. I reach out and grab the hem of her T-shirt.
As I start to pull it off, she grabs my hand.
“What are you doing?” she breathes out, her voice shaky.
Maybe it’s the week without sex talking, but every signal I see tonight gets filtered through my cock. My brain—or maybe it’s just my dick again—starts whispering that this girl’s into the fantasy of being taken. Well, all the better.
I’m so caught up, I barely register how... normal her outfit is. Elen never sends a girl to a client dressed like this. Instead, I focus on getting her out of it.
I run the back of my hand across her cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you. Now move your hands, good girl.”
My words aren’t threatening, but my tone is. I shoot her a look that says she either moves her hands, or I’ll rip the clothes off her body. Her trembling hands slide away, and a second later, her T-shirt and bra hit the floor.
Placing my palms on her bare shoulders, I slowly drag my fingers down over her skin, down to the perfect mounds that rule her pale, freckled body like two crowned queens. Her nipples aren’t pink or brown like most women’s. They’re ruby red, two glowing gems staring back at me.
I palm them and a groan tears out of me.
I can’t hold back anymore. I shove her toward the bed, my hand on the small of her back, and fall onto the sheets with her.
I unbutton her jeans, slide my hand into her panties, and start massaging the soft flesh beneath me.
I suck her delectable tits into my mouth, one after the other.
For the next two hours, I lose my fucking mind. The pleasure I get from this sex is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Each time I empty myself into the condom, I ask myself: Is this even real?
When I’m done, I leave a hefty tip on the pillow and for the first time in my life, I decide I want to be with the same woman two nights in a row. I cast another lustful glance at her naked body lying on the bed, and tell her I expect her back tomorrow night.
She pulls the sheet over herself, closing her eyes without even looking at me. She must be so exhausted she doesn’t have the strength to respond. I run my tongue over my lips, already mapping out every filthy position I’ll take her in tomorrow night.
But for now, I’ve got to go. There’s a big drug shipment coming in tonight, and I need to be there to handle it.
A perfect end to a perfect night.
***
Carlo is standing by the fireplace, holding Gabriel in one arm and talking to his blond brother, Brando. Lorenzo and Giorgio are off in another corner of the living room, chatting beneath a jungle of balloons strung across the walls.
I pour myself another drink, and once again, my mind drifts back to the sex room. To that night. To the mystery I still haven’t solved, one week later.
A hand lands on my shoulder, yanking me out of it. Carlo studies me with that probing look of his and drops into the single armchair next to me.
He gestures to the glass in my hand. “What’s going on?”
I toss back the square-cut crystal liquid in one go and decide to tell Carlo my secret. My brain’s been fucked ever since, maybe he can help me out.
“I fucked up, Carlo. Big time. And I don’t know how to fix it.”
The crease between his brows shows he’s surprised, but he stays silent, just waiting for me to go on.
“I went to Heaven the other night, ordered a redhead, as usual.” I ignore the smirk creeping onto his lips and keep talking.
“This girl walks in, not dressed like the others. Jeans, a T-shirt. Gorgeous. Not the usual hooker vibe. She asks if I’m Maxim.
I thought she was being coy, maybe a newbie trying something different.
So I grabbed her by the throat and kissed her. ”
I drag a frustrated hand through my hair.
“I thought she was just playing along. Someone knocked on the door, I told them to fuck off. And then I fucked her. For an hour. When it was over, I told her to come back the next night. I don’t know why, it was out of character for me, but she was... different.”
“And did she come back?” he asked.
I shake my head. “No. So I asked Elen about her. That’s when I found out she wasn’t one of our girls.”
“What?” he frowns. “Who was she?”
I sigh. “That’s the fucking million-dollar question.
I have no idea. The guards said she was looking for me.
They thought she was a new girl applying for a job, so they sent her to Elen.
But she didn’t go to her, she came straight to me.
I was so distracted by her beauty it didn’t even register. And now…”
“Now I think I misread everything. I thought her pain was part of some act, but... Carlo, I think I might’ve hurt her. I think I might’ve—” I swallow hard. “Forced her.”
“Maxim, you’re overthinking it. If she didn’t want to be there, she would’ve said something. Screamed. Fought back. Anything.”
“That’s the problem,” I mutter, rubbing my temples. “I didn’t give her the chance. Before she could say anything, I was in her pussy to the hilt. And the way she moved, I—” I exhaled sharply. “I don’t know, Carlo. I think she was a virgin.”
He tries to stifle a laugh but fails miserably. “A virgin? In a whorehouse? Come on, Maxim. That’s insane.”
“Do you think this is funny?” I snap.
“Alright, alright. Look, no way in hell would some innocent virgin willingly walk into Bruni territory, let alone one of our clubs. She probably saw an opportunity and took it. Trust me. If she didn’t want to be there, you’d have known.”
I lean back, still not convinced. “You really think so?”
“I know so. She’s probably out there right now counting the cash you left and thinking about her next client. Don’t lose sleep over it. If she comes back, clear the air. If not, let it go.”
It makes sense. Or maybe I just need it to make sense. I nod slowly. “I hope you’re right.”
Emily walks in, carrying Gabriel’s first birthday cake, cutting the conversation short.
But my mind stays with the girl whose memory and scent still cling to me, though the guilt is starting to fade. I’ve made peace with the idea she was just another working girl.
And deep down, I’m still hoping I’ll get one more taste.