Chapter 2
Brax
The heat hits first, and the brunt of it isn't from the roaring fire. The same woman who decided whether I lived or died stares at me unmasked, her skin glistening in the thick, hot air.
I should be angry, calculating the exact words that'll level this woman and whatever she's involved in. I only caught a small glimpse of the secret organization she represents. And I already decided I don't like it. So I shouldn't even contemplate what I want to do with her.
Yet she stands spine straight, chin up, and with the audacity of a queen, hazel eyes pinned to mine, showing no fear.
Her legs are longer than I expected, and the red strapless minidress showcases her heart-shaped ass.
Her posture screams she's prepared to kill me, then fix her lipstick.
And the word FINZIA is inked in red right under her collarbone.
Is it a stamp?
Brand?
Is she owned?
It's hard to tell. But her dark and wild hair isn't helping matters. It's a riot of curls, full of chaos she controls, and something tells me it's always like this.
My uncontrollable pulse doesn't slow. A bead of sweat rolls over my Adam's apple, and her eyes slowly dart to it.
She hunts for the smallest weakness.
She thinks she found one.
I'm still waiting for her to tell me if she brought me here for pleasure or business, but I warn, "It's just from the heat, so don't read into it."
Her lips part as she peers closer. The same Italian accent that gave me a hard-on when a knife was to my throat earlier murmurs, "You're calmer than most men in your position would be."
"What position is that?" I ask, leaning an inch closer. I shouldn't. I should be cautious of her. I'm smart enough to know she's a trap wearing perfume.
So why does my blood feel like it's fizzing in my veins? It's like someone poured gasoline through my bloodstream and handed her the match.
Her breath drags in then out, hitting mine.
Something primal sparks, creating an infuriating pull. She's dangerous, and I need to get out of her world, not step farther into it. But it's like all the lessons the O'Malleys taught me about discipline simmer in the heat.
End this before it begins, I order myself.
The fire flickers in her eyes, turning the hazel molten.
Any remaining sense disappears. I blurt out, "You look at me like you already own me."
She replies in a low voice, "And you look at me like you want to."
My wet T-shirt suddenly feels like it's part of my skin. The fizzling in my veins turns to full-on explosions, and every warning bell blares between my ears.
Silence stretches, and the suffocating air wraps around my ribs and throat while her gaze remains steady but turns more curious. It's the same way she studied me in front of the crowd.
It only makes her more dangerous.
She breaks the silence. "What should I call you?"
"I would think you already know my name," I admit.
Her jaw twitches.
"Ah. So you're not the head honcho of whatever sadistic cesspool I stepped into?" I taunt.
Her eyes turn to slits. She advises, "I suggest you change your tone to one of respect regarding the Underworld."
The Underworld?
I drag the bead of sweat over her FINZIA tattoo, letting my finger linger on the top of her cleavage. "Or what?"
She gives me a look that sends a chill down my spine.
I step back, needing fresh air, but there is none. It wouldn't surprise me if I were actually in the real Devil's den. I wait another moment, then inform, "Brax. And you?"
"Short for Braxton?" she asks.
"No. Just Brax."
"What kind of name is Brax?"
I cross my arms over my chest, wishing my shirt wasn't drenched. I demand, "And your name is?"
She waits, as if she's contemplating whether telling me will get her killed or let her live.
I scoff. "Seriously?"
"Valentina," rolls off her tongue.
I step so close that her curls brush my forearm, and her perfume swirls between us. I lower my voice. "You run things?"
Her tongue slowly licks her lips. She answers, "I manage what I'm instructed to control."
I grunt. "So you're in charge until the boss is ready to step back in and play?"
She softly laughs.
"What's so funny?" I question.
"You're so naive."
"Then why don't you fill me in?" I ask, glancing at her lips.
She steps back, picks up the champagne bottle, and fills a flute. She drinks most of it, then tilts her head. "You snuck into the underground fight uninvited. Sean may have vouched for you, but you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."
She's right.
"Why don't you fill me in?" I order.
She walks toward the kitchen, rinses out the flute, then refills it with water. She drinks all of it, then sets the glass in the sink and spins. "First, you answer my questions."
Sweat rolls over my eyelid and stings my right eye. I blink hard.
Jesus, it's hot in here.
I peel the bottom of my T-shirt and wipe my face, but it's pointless. "Fuck it," I mutter, and tug it over my head, then reply, "And if I don't?"
Valentina's eyes drag over my torso.
My dick pushes against my zipper harder with every second her stare lingers on me. I tease, "You still didn't tell me if I'm here for pleasure or business."
Her eyes meet mine. "If you don't answer my questions honestly, there will be consequences. There are always consequences, as I'm sure you learned tonight."
"Consequences where men are beaten to death for probably no reason?" I ask.
Her stare hardens. "There's always a reason, even if you don't know it."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
"You answer like no part of you questions anything," I state.
Her gaze turns cold. "I don't question the Underworld, and neither should you."
"The Underworld?" I ask.
"Yes. That is what our society is called."
I hold back what I think about that name and push, "So you blindly do what they say?"
Valentina stays quiet, but her expression gives off a warning.
I shouldn't be scared, but something about it tells me to take her threats seriously.
"Ah. Good boy. You do have some smarts in that brain of yours," she declares. Her lips curve, taunting me further.
I grin. "I'm more than muscle, little Minx."
She opens her mouth, then shuts it. She turns back to the sink, refills the glass with water, and then sits on the couch. Sweat shimmers on her bare legs, and she slowly crosses them. The red satin moves dangerously high.
Sweet Jesus.
My blood fizzles again.
"Sit," she orders, pointing to the chair.
I don't see the point of arguing, so I obey, but it makes my predicament worse. The front angle is more torturous than the side.
"Should I just uncross my legs and let you examine me closer?" she reprimands.
I don't miss a beat. "If that's what you want. I'll oblige."
"I'm sure you would."
I shrug. "Don't put a dog bowl in front of a dog."
Valentina arches her eyebrows, half amused, half insulted. "So I'm a dog bowl?"
The flick of the match burns inside me. I don't hesitate. "If you want, I'll show you how a dog eats."
A flush erupts on her cheeks.
"Back to the original question. Am I here for pleasure or business?" I repeat, wishing she'd say pleasure and let me get on with what I'm sure would be an unforgettable night.
"You're here to learn." She shifts on the couch, uncrossing and recrossing her legs.
I point at her. "The only thing that's going to do is make me want to study every inch of your thighs."
She tilts her head and smirks. "You wish."
"Pretty sure you do."
Her red fingers snap. "Pay attention, Brax. There's less than six hours, and time's ticking. Every second you waste could be what causes your demise."
I grunt. "Less than six hours for what?"
"To learn."
"Learn what?"
"Rules. Procedures. The trajectory of your life now that you've stepped into the Underworld," she discloses.
I roll my eyes. "Spare me the drama. And do you mind if we turn off the fire? It's hotter than shit in here."
Her voice turns to anger. She hurls, "Ma sei proprio un cretino!"
"I'm not an idiot," I declare.
Her eyes widen. "You know Italian?"
Arrogance fills me. I cross my arms, sit back, and grin.
"How?" she asks.
I jump off the couch and walk toward the front door. "None of your business. Now, this little visit has been nice, but I'm sweating my balls off. You're welcome to join me for some fresh air if you're tired of this inferno." I reach for the door handle, but it's locked.
"It's locked."
"No shit," I say, but then my gut drops. There's only a keyhole and no way to unlock it. Alarms ring in my ears. I spin. "What's going on here?"
Valentina rises. "I told you that we have less than six hours. My suggestion is that you take this seriously."
The hairs on my neck rise. "Or what?"
Her face falls. She sighs. "You entered the Underworld. No one enters and leaves unless through death. Do I need to spell it out?"
My gut sinks further. I ask, "What about Sean?"
"What about him?"
"How did he get involved in your cult?"
"It's not a cult," she snaps.
"No? Sure seems like it has similar characteristics. I mean—"
"Last warning. Do not speak disrespectfully of the Underworld. I cannot protect you from the consequences," she threatens in a firm voice.
I open my mouth but don't speak. Her eyes have a warning I haven't seen before, and it sends a chill down my spine.
She lowers her voice. "The Underworld is always watching and listening. Choose your actions and words wisely."
My heart thumps harder. As soon as Valentina left, men pulled me away from Sean and brought me here, so I couldn't even talk to him. I don't know what I've stepped into, but I don't like it.
She runs her fingers over her tattoo. "Make a choice, Brax. Take this seriously, or it'll be the last choice you make."
"Because you'll kill me?" I ask in a teasing voice. I'm sure Valentina can hold her own, but I also think I could overpower her. I've never killed a woman, but if I had to choose between her and me, I'd choose myself.
She smirks, "You don't think I could?"
"You don't think I'd kill you?" I threaten, locking my gaze into hers.