Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Nico
We pull up to The Pit, one of the underground fight clubs I own on the outskirts of the city, buried deep in an industrial part of town where cops know better than to linger and civilians never wander.
From the outside, the warehouse looks abandoned, rusted shutters, cracked concrete, no sign, no lights except the dim red glow above the steel entrance.
Tonight isn’t a fight night, which means the place belongs solely to my men.
I step out first, then offer Eleonora my hand. She takes it, and I feel the slight tremor in her fingers as she slides out of the SUV.
She looks around, eyes wide. “What is this place?”
I lean in slightly as we walk toward the entrance. “You'll see.”
The heavy doors slide open the moment we approach it, and the familiar scent of sweat, blood, cigar smoke, and expensive whiskey hits my nostrils.
The inside is built like a sin wrapped in luxury. Black leather booths line the lower level beneath low amber lights, cages of liquor gleaming behind the bar like trophies. Neon strips cast a crimson glow across the polished concrete floors, while bass-heavy music hums low through hidden speakers.
Elevated at the center of it all sits the fighting ring. Surrounded by black ropes. The canvas bears faint smears that no amount of cleaning ever fully removes.
Above the ring sit private balconies reserved for politicians, businessmen, and syndicate members wealthy enough to buy their way into places like this.
Soundproof VIP suites line the upper floor, their tinted windows overlooking the fights below.
My men occupy every corner of the club.
Some are inside the ring sparring shirtless, fists colliding. Others train against heavy bags suspended from steel beams, the chains rattling violently with every punch.
A few sit at the bar nursing drinks while counting cash, cleaning guns, or watching the fights.
The moment they see me, conversations die. Punches stop midway, the heavy bags stop swinging.
“Boss.”
Voices rise from every corner as my men straighten instinctively.
A few nod their heads. Others place fists over their chests.
My gaze sweeps over the room once before I lift two fingers casually.
“Continue.”
The tension breaks instantly. The music swells louder again. Fists resume colliding against flesh and punching bags.
Eleonora’s gaze darts everywhere, taking it all in with genuine awe. “You own this place?”
“It’s one of a few,” I say, watching her reaction.
One of my men approaches quickly and leans in. “Nikolai just arrived, Boss. He’s in the private lounge.”
I nod. I don’t want to leave her, but I can’t bring her into the meeting with the Russian Pahkan.
Eleonora turns to me, eyes bright. “I’ve never been to a place like this.”
I signal to Sophia, one of my most trusted hostesses who manages the VIP experience.
“Sophia,” I say, voice low. “Take my guest to the private terrace. No members allowed up there tonight.”
Sophia nods immediately. “Of course, Mr. Lombardi.”
I look at Eleonora. “Stay with her. Don’t wander. I have a meeting.”
She opens her mouth like she wants to argue, but then closes it and nods.
As Sophia leads her away toward the quieter, more exclusive section of the club, I watch every step she takes, fighting the urge to follow.
This might be the stupidest thing I’ve done in years.
But the thought of leaving her alone at the mansion felt worse.
I make sure four of my best men shadow Eleonora and Sophia before I head to the private VIP lounge, where Nikolai is waiting.
The Russian Pahkan is already seated like he owns the place. He’s big, broad-shouldered, with a shaved head, cold gray eyes, and a scar running through his left eyebrow. Nikolai Volkov is a brutal, calculating bastard, but he’s a man of his word.
We’ve done good business together for years. He respects strength, and I respect the fact that he’s never tried to fuck me over.
He stands when I enter, and we clasp hands firmly.
“Nico,” he says in that thick accent. “Good to see you.”
We sit. His guards stay back, silent and watchful.
“Straight to business,” I say. “You want to increase the volume.”
“Da. Thirty percent more product per shipment. Your products are good. I need more.”
I lean back, studying him. “Thirty is a big jump. That kind of volume draws attention. We’d need new routes and better protection on the water.”
Nikolai smiles like a wolf. “I’ll pay a premium. And I’ll make sure the Italians don’t interfere. Speaking of… I hear you have the Caruso girl. And that Andrea Gallo is losing his mind.”
I nod once. “The Gallo-Caruso alliance is dead if I have anything to say about it. Weakening them benefits both of us.”
“Exactly,” Nikolai agrees. “If you break that deal, the ports open up more for us. I’ll back you if it turns bloody.”
We talk logistics for a while, new drop points, payment structures, extra security.
Nikolai swirls the vodka in his glass, then gives me a calculating look.
“There’s a masquerade ball next weekend. High-profile. Politicians, old money, a few syndicates. We’ll be there. Might be a good idea for you to attend as well.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
He taps his finger on the table. “With the masks, it’ll be easy to move around unnoticed. Could be useful if you want to stir the pot with the Gallos or Carusos without showing your hand too early.”
I consider it for a moment, then nod. “I’ll think about it.”
When we’re done, I signal one of the hostesses.
“Bring some girls for my guest and his men. The best ones.”
Nikolai’s eyes gleam. “Appreciate it. But maybe we take the party somewhere quieter?” He gestures vaguely. “I heard there’s a private terrace with a jacuzzi.”
I tense. That’s exactly where I sent Eleonora.
For half a second I want to say no. But refusing would raise suspicion, and I need to gain his trust.
“Fine,” I say. “Let’s go.”
We head out, Nikolai, three of his men, and four of my girls hanging off their arms, laughing and touching. The entire walk over, my jaw is tight. I shouldn’t have brought her here. It was reckless.
We reach the private terrace. The jacuzzi is glowing softly under the night lights, steam rising into the cool air.
Eleonora is in the water. Her midnight blue dress is draped over a nearby lounge chair. She’s submerged up to her shoulders, but I can tell she’s only in her underwear. The blonde wig is still on a few strands clinging to her damp neck.
Fuck me.
Nikolai chuckles. “Looks like there’s already someone in the pool.” He raises his voice politely. “Hello there.”
Eleonora turns in the water. Her eyes widen slightly when she sees the group, but she keeps her composure.
“Hello,” she answers, voice steady but cautious.
Nikolai’s gaze lingers on her a second too long.
One of his men whistles low under his breath.
My blood turns to ice.
This was a mistake. A very big, very dangerous mistake.
Eleonora
I’m still shocked that Nico actually let me leave the mansion. Even more shocked that he brought me to a club.
The moment I stepped out of the car and felt the cool night air on my skin, something tight in my chest loosened. Fresh air.
This is my first time ever being inside a fight club, or any sort of club, and despite everything, a small, ridiculous part of me is thrilled.
I would’ve loved to sit at the bar, order something sweet and alcoholic, maybe even dance on the floor like a normal girl my age. But I understand why Nico sent me away from the main area. Too many eyes. Too much risk of someone recognizing me.
Sophia, the elegant woman he assigned to me, has been surprisingly kind.
She showed me around the quieter sections of the club, explaining things with a soft smile.
When we reached this private terrace with the glowing jacuzzi pool, I couldn’t resist. The water looked so inviting, steam rising gently into the cool night.
So I did it.
I slipped out of the beautiful dress, left it neatly on the lounge chair, and stepped into the water in just my black lace underwear. The warmth enveloped me instantly, soothing my tense muscles. I sighed in pure pleasure and let myself float, eyes closed, enjoying the rare moment of freedom.
Then I heard voices.
I opened my eyes just in time to see Nico walking onto the terrace with a group of men and several beautiful women hanging off their arms.
Nico’s gaze locks on me immediately. His jaw tightens, eyes darkening with clear displeasure as he notices my dress lying on the chair. I’m submerged up to my shoulders, but he knows exactly what I’m wearing underneath.
One of the men, big, and imposing with a shaved head and a scar through his eyebrow, smiles when he sees me.
“Hello there,” he says, voice thick with accent. “I’m Nikolai. And who might you be, beautiful?”
I keep my expression calm, even as I feel Nico’s stare burning into me.
“I’m Nico’s… acquaintance,” I answer carefully.
Nikolai looks between us, then chuckles deeply, eyes gleaming with amusement. He claps Nico on the shoulder.
“You have a very good eye, my friend.”
Nico doesn’t smile back. His entire body is tense, like he’s fighting the urge to drag me out of the water and throw his jacket over me.
I stay perfectly still in the jacuzzi, heart racing, very aware that I’m half-naked in front of a group of dangerous men.
The conversation flows around me like the warm water of the jacuzzi, low laughter and thick Russian accents mixing with the distant thump of the club’s bass.
Nikolai is already relaxed on one of the lounge chairs, one of the beautiful women on her knees between his spread thighs, her head bobbing slowly while he strokes her hair like she’s a pet.
Is she doing what I think?
Two of his men have similar company, girls perched on their laps, hands disappearing beneath the surface, soft moans blending with the night air. No one seems to care that I’m right here.
Nico stands at the edge of the pool for a long moment, watching me with those dark, unreadable eyes. Then, without a word, he kicks off his shoes, unbuttons his shirt, his pants and steps into the water in his briefs.
The water laps at his hips as he moves toward me, the wet fabric of his briefs clinging to his powerful thighs.
I swallow hard.
He stops right in front of me, close enough that our knees brush under the water. Nikolai chuckles at something one of his men says, but I barely hear it. My focus is locked on Nico.
“Enjoying yourself?” I ask, voice low and mocking. “Or are you just here to make sure I don’t run?”
His eyes flash with something dangerous. A slow, predatory smile curves his lips.
Before I can take another breath, he moves closer, the water shifting softly around us. Heat radiates off his body, wrapping around me until I can barely think straight.
His hand slides slowly along my waist, giving me enough time to realize what he’s about to do. My pulse starts hammering.
“Nico—”
The warning dies in my throat when his fingers drift lower beneath the water, teasing along the inside of my thigh.
His fingers push my lace panties aside and stroke me, two thick fingers gliding through my already slick folds. The shock of it steals my voice.
I try to close my legs, to pull away, but his other hand grips my hip under the water, holding me exactly where he wants me.
“Be still,” he murmurs against my ear, so quiet only I can hear.
My heart slams against my ribs. We’re not alone.
Nikolai is ten feet away, head tilted back in pleasure while the woman between his legs works him with her mouth.
His men are lost in their own haze of pleasure and conversation.
Anyone could look over and see exactly what Nico is doing to me beneath the rippling surface.
The thought should horrify me. Instead, heat explodes low in my belly. My pussy clenches around his fingers as he pushes one inside me, then two, stretching me.
He curls them, stroking that perfect spot that makes my vision blur. His thumb finds my clit and circles it.
I bite my lip hard to keep from moaning. My hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into wet skin.
“You’re soaked,” he whispers against my ear, voice dark and filthy. “All this time pretending you hate me, and your pussy is dripping for me in front of all these people.”
Another curl of his fingers. My thighs tremble. I’m so close already, embarrassingly close. The pressure builds, pleasure coiling tighter with every stroke.
The risk of being seen only makes it worse. Hotter. My hips rock against his hand without shame, chasing the release he’s teasing me with.
I’m right there, trembling on the edge, lips parted on a silent cry —
He stops.
Pulls his fingers out of me completely and moves back just enough that we’re no longer touching.
I almost whimper at the loss. My body is screaming, aching, empty. I glare at him, chest heaving.
He meets my eyes, calm and controlled, while I’m falling apart in front of him.
“You were saying?” he murmurs.
I want to kill him.