Chapter Forty-three
Serena
I pull into the club’s parking lot, my tires screeching against the asphalt, and I don’t even bother to straighten the car. My pulse is hammering, my chest so tight it feels like it might collapse. His Lamborghini is parked neatly by the entrance, sleek, black, untouchable. He’s here.
I slam the door and storm inside.
The bass of the music hits me like a wave, “Sex Appeal” by Alicoeurbrise x dacold vibrating through my chest. It’s Tuesday.
Four in the afternoon. And still the place is alive, men in suits nursing glasses of whiskey, dancers wrapping themselves around chrome poles, laughter and moans tangled in the air thick with perfume and expensive cologne.
And then I see her.
Clara.
She’s on stage like she was born there, the spotlight bathing her in a golden glow.
A goddess in lace. Her black curls spill down her back in wild waves as she grips the pole, her body arching, sliding, twisting with the beat.
Her red lips curve into a smirk as she bends low, her hips rolling in hypnotic rhythm, the lace bodysuit clinging to every curve like it was painted on.
Men lose their fucking minds. Bills rain at her feet, their eyes locked on her as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world. Some of them lean forward, mouths parted, helpless, as though she’d bewitched them.
And then there’s Lev.
He’s not laughing. Not smirking. His madness is gone, replaced with an intensity I’ve never seen before.
His gaze is devouring, jaw clenched so hard the veins on his neck bulge, his glass nearly shattering in his hand.
Every time a man stares too long, his knuckles tighten.
He looks like he’s seconds away from ripping throats out.
The sight almost makes me pause. Almost.
But I’m not here for Clara or Lev. I’m here for him.
I shove my way through the crowd, but no one even notices me, they’re all too busy drowning in lust and liquor. My heels click against the floor as I make for the bar. A girl is working behind it, arranging bottles, her eyes sharp but wary.
“Hi,” I say, my voice clipped. “Do you know where Lorenzo is?”
She blinks, cautious. “Mr. Moretti?”
I nearly roll my eyes. Mr. Moretti. Christ. “Yes,” I force out, my throat dry. “Mr. Moretti. Where is he?”
Her lips press together like she’s debating whether to answer. Then, finally, she nods. “Second floor. His suite.”
His suite. Of course he has one. Not just offices, not just a floor, an entire suite inside this kingdom of vice. A man like him needs his throne. But all I can think about is what’s beneath this club. The basement. The place where he tortures people. A shiver slices through me.
I take the elevator up, the music still thrumming through the walls, vibrating against my ribs, “Never again” by Lost Souls is loud.
The hallway is dim, the neon lights pulsing red, blue, purple.
Doors line each side, private rooms, intimate shadows, places where men lose themselves and women sell pieces of themselves.
Every door I open leads to something else I don’t want to see. Moans. Whispers. Laughter.
Until there’s only one door left. At the end of the hall.
My chest tightens. This has to be his.
I knock, pulse racing, heart ready to shatter.
“Come in,” a woman’s voice calls out.
Ice runs through my veins.
I push the door open.
And there she is.
I know her. I’d recognize that brunette hair, those red lips, that perfect body anywhere. The woman who clung to Lorenzo at the Moretti Anniversary like she belonged to him. The woman who smiled at him in ways that made my skin crawl.
She lounges casually, like she owns the place, her legs crossed, her smirk sharp enough to cut me open.
“Excuse me,” I manage, my voice tight. “I think this is the wrong suite.”
Her smirk widens. “Who are you looking for?”
My throat closes around his name, but I force it out. “Lorenzo.”
The recognition flashes in her eyes, and she leans back, enjoying this far too much. “Ah.” Her tone drips with cruelty. “Do you want me to pass him a message?”
The room tilts.
“He’s in the shower right now,” she purrs, her lips curving as though she’s savoring every flicker of pain crossing my face. “But we’ll be… busy once he’s done.” She winks. “You know, he’s never satisfied.”
Jealousy scorches me alive. My hands tremble. My blood roars.
I want to rip her off that sofa, grab her perfect hair and smash her face into the wall until that smirk is gone.
But instead, I smile, my voice sharp as broken glass.
“He seemed pretty satisfied with me. Not sure what you mean.”
Her eyes flash, and my fury boils over. I swear, if Lorenzo steps out of that shower right now, I’ll kill him first.
And then, he steps out of the shower.
My chest caves. My pulse hammers so loudly it drowns out the music thundering faintly from below.
Water drips down his body in slow, merciless trails, cutting through the fresh ink on his abdomen and running across muscle carved like marble.
His dark brown curls cling wetly to his forehead, his towel slung carelessly around his hips.
He doesn’t look like a man stepping out of a shower, he looks like a storm made flesh.
And those blue eyes.
They lock on me instantly, like he knew I was here. Like he felt me trespassing in his orbit.
If I weren’t shaking with rage, if my heart weren’t splitting in two, I’d throw myself at him. I’d climb him, sink into him, and forget everything. But I can’t. Not when Ashley, the brunette with her red lips and smug smile, is still in the air like smoke.
God, I want to kill him. And her.
“Thank you for bringing the files, Ashley.” His tone is smooth, detached, not even sparing her a glance. “Next time, leave them at reception, as instructed. No need to deliver them here.”
She nods with a little smirk, satisfied with the damage she’s inflicted, and leaves.
The door clicks shut.
It’s only us. The silence screams louder than any club bass. He leans against the frame, arms folded, his face unreadable, waiting for me to explain why I barged into his world.
My throat burns, my chest aches. And the only thing I manage to spit out is:
“Stay away from me.”
Pathetic.
His head tilts slightly, a cruel smirk ghosting his lips. “You know you’re the one in my room, right?”
I snap.
“You stay away from me, and the people I care about!” My voice shakes with rage, tears threatening to break. “Why the fuck did you beat Ian?”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t answer.
“You broke up with me!” I scream, the words ripping through my chest. “You ended it, remember? So who the fuck are you to decide what happens in my life now?”
In two strides he closes the distance, his shadow swallowing mine. His voice is a dark growl against my lips.
“I’m your man.”
I laugh, broken, bitter. “We’re over, remember? Or did you forget while you were busy entertaining your little assistant?”
His smirk deepens, infuriating, lethal. “Are you jealous, princess?”
The word princess slams into me like a blade. His nearness overwhelms, his scent of mint and soap suffocating me. My hand flies before I can stop it, smack. The slap echoes in the suite, my palm stinging, my chest heaving.
“How dare you?” I choke, pounding my fists against his chest. “How dare you replace me in two weeks?! How dare you throw us away like nothing and then crawl into someone else’s bed?
!” My voice cracks, my vision blurs. “I’m not jealous,” a sob breaks the lie in half “I’m just done.
I’m done with you. Leave me the fuck alone! ”
His hand shoots up, fingers clamping around my cheeks, forcing my gaze into his. His eyes are oceans of ice and fire, swirling with rage, anguish, obsession.
“You think I replaced you?” His breath is ragged, his forehead pressing to mine.
“You’re everywhere, Serena. Every-fucking-where.
You crawl into my head when I sleep, you haunt me when I’m awake.
You’ve poisoned my soul. I can’t breathe without you.
” His voice breaks into a growl. “You betrayed me, and I still want to chain you to me until the end of time. I should’ve snapped his neck for touching what’s mine.
The only reason I didn’t is because of you. ”
My body trembles against his grip. My back hits the door hard when he cages me in, slamming his fist against the wood beside my head. The sound ricochets through me.
“You had another woman in this room five minutes ago!” I sob, shoving him, but he doesn’t budge.
“I had no idea she was here. I came out because I heard you.” His chest rises and falls violently. “Do you get it, Serena? You drive me fucking insane. You’re the voice in my head that makes me destroy everything I touch.”
Tears stream freely now, hot and unrelenting. “You cut me off. You abandoned me. You never once checked if I was okay, not a call, not a text! I needed you, Lorenzo. I needed you when I thought I wouldn’t survive the night. And you left me to bleed out alone.”
His hand trembles against my cheek. “I had men outside your hospital room,” he whispers. “I knew you were alive. I knew you were safe.”
“I wasn’t safe!” I scream. “I was drowning!”
His jaw tightens, his eyes reddening with fury and pain. “You betrayed me, Serena. You ruined everything.” His chest heaves, his voice shatters into rage. “Why did you have to fucking ruin me?”
Another sob claws its way out of my throat. “You’re never going to believe me, are you?” I whisper. “If you don’t want me… if you hate me so much… why do you keep coming back?”
He rakes a hand through his wet hair, every muscle in his body taut like a bow ready to snap. His eyes cut through me, violent and raw.
“Because you’re in my fucking soul.” His voice is thunder, a confession and a curse.
“Then cut me out of you!” I scream back, broken. My tears taste like blood in my mouth.
His roar rips the air apart:
“I FUCKING CAN’T!”
He slams his forehead against mine, his breath ragged, his eyes blazing into me.