7. Luca
Idon’t know whether I should be impressed by my little stalkers tenacity still showing up outside one of my clubs or infuriated. My men have pieced together her movements, I’ve realized her routines were like clockwork leading up to six months ago when she first moved to New York.
I’ve seen many men consumed by addictions and obsessions, but my little stalker is out of her depth. She showed up every Friday night because that’s when I make most of my business deals. Or if I was in Italy, then Ivan would do it on my behalf. She’s clued into my illicit dealings, so how long might it be until someone else does too? I’ve killed many before for sticking their nose where it didn’t belong. It’ll most likely be the same outcome for this little snake.
“Do you want us to bring her in boss?” Lorenzo, the head of my security, asks. He’s always with me and has full disclosure of most of my activities.
“Yes. Rough her up a little. Not too rough though, I’ll deal with her myself.”
She just can’t help it. From the way she runs outside my mansion every day to the minor details of being at every legal event I’ve attended for the last six months. Arabella Barone has a sick obsession with a death wish. So why haven’t I snuffed it out already? Simply because I don’t want too…yet.
There’s something about the little viper that intrigues me. I can’t quite put my finger on it yet but I am certain I’ll discover the reason behind it soon.
“Now where were we?” I ask Camille. She seems out of place here. Not in the way she appears because all kinds of beautiful and wealthy creatures lie here. But in the way of her desperation. I light my cigar and inhale.
She looks around the main room that hosts a handful of poker tables. Naked women and men dance in highlighted tubes and can be purchased by anyone for the night depending on the highest bidder. We’re in a private booth that looks over the controlled chaos. I take a sip of my whisky. Now that I know a certain little stalker is being dragged into my office, I want this conversation to be over. Fast.
Camille swallows, but her gaze has been glued to Samantha, one of our highest paid exotic dancers. She wears nothing but a blue mask and blue beads around her neck. The rest of the goods are on display and for sale.
“She’s beautiful,” Camille says admirably. It’s not missed. The desire. The want and the need to touch.
“If all you came to do was partake in the ambiance then I shall leave you to exactly that,” I say and go to stand.
“Wait! No!” She outstretches her hand but flinches under my cutting glare and is quick to recoil. She’s lucky she didn’t touch me. I don’t take well to being touched; some people have even lost their hands for it and depending on my mood—their lives. She swallows hard. “My father has started compiling a list of appropriate candidates for my marriage.”
“Surely you did not come to me with something as boring as your marital status,” I grit out.
Despite herself, she keeps her composure. “I come with a proposal. If you might be so willing, a marital agreement between us.” I scoff but she continues. “Or I give you the name of the man my father intends to marry me off to.”
Now, I try to hide the smile. How often those who are within the social circles I grace find themselves drawn to me. Drawn to the dirty work they themselves are not willing to do.
“Whatever do you mean?” I ask before I take a swig of whisky. That’s when I see her. Ara cursing the security guards who bring her in. She’s not causing a commotion. Probably because she doesn’t want to draw more attention to herself. I hide the smile as I admire the sloppy clothes, short wig, and contacts. Her face even looks slightly different from when I saw her last. Makeup, perhaps? Interesting. I wonder how many aliases she goes by. Bright blue eyes lock on me, and I’m equally impressed she sought me out in the dimly lit space. From this angle I most likely look like the predator lurking in the dark. Although I requested for them to take her directly to my office, I still feel like my property is being taken away.
I need to wrap this up because my next meeting has arrived.
“Marriage is not something I desire. Even for business prospects. Even if I did, there are far better options and matches. Did you really think I would be a cover up? If women are what you seek, you should probably inform your father.”
She seems taken aback but closes her mouth. It’s not public knowledge. I make it my business to study everyone in a room.
“Then will you kill him?” she asks, curling her hands into fists. Annoying. Nuisance. She obviously already knows the intended partner. There is nothing I want from her. She has nothing to bargain with.
A loud chuckle erupts from the bottom floor. I glance over to a table where four businessmen are doing lines of cocaine and women are dancing around them.
“Let’s say I have the means to do such a thing. What is the name and what do I get?”
“Anything I can give you within my means.”
I arch an eyebrow at her desperation. It’s not uncommon from those with old money to be sold off for marriage contracts. Especially the daughters. This is the first woman however, who has asked me to make a hit to avoid it.
“You would defy your father?”
“For my freedom. Yes.”
I rub the stubble on my chin. “The name of this man?”
“Carlos Sloane.”
I consider the gain. What could I possibly take from the Blanchet family that’s rewarding enough to end Carlos Sloane’s life?
Nothing.
“As entertaining as this was, I have to decline both your offers. Don’t waste my time again.”
“Wait but—” Her mouth shuts as I stand over her with an unrelenting gaze. One where I let the mask slip. A reminder although she might’ve been drawn to this side of me, she is way out of her depth to think she can overstep. “Enjoy the night, Camille. You might even want to purchase one of our specialties before your engagement is announced.”
Her fists clench, and tears well in her eyes. I was her last resort. There’s something delightful in playing God.
Camille’s gaze defiantly snaps to Samantha. Even after I’ve denied her, I know she will still place money in my pockets by allowing her fantasy to consume her here tonight.
Now, it’s time I unravel my own little unspoken fantasy. My little stalker is the first who allegedly knows everything about me. I wonder how she might cower when she sees the monster close up again. Last time she couldn’t even move her legs. Yet, she still couldn’t resist coming back.
When my office door is opened for me, I’m greeted with Arabella’s back. She is sitting cross-armed and doesn’t even bother looking in my direction when I enter the room. She’s just death-staring Lorenzo. I suspect if he wasn’t in the room her hands would be roaming through the bookshelves and my desk drawers. Not that I hide anything of great importance here.
“Obsession can lead you into dangerous places, my little stalker.”
Her chin only points higher, more defiantly. I hold in a wicked grin.
I haven’t ever met someone like Arabella. Who, despite being scared of me, still tries to defy me.
“Leave us,” I order. Lorenzo offers a curt nod before leaving the room. I position myself between her and the wooden desk, filling in the small space. I lean against the edge of the desk, blocking her in like the caged animal she is. She’s only an arm’s distance away, and my cock is at her eye level.
As if catching onto the thought, her unnatural striking green gaze defiantly flicks up at me through thick eyelashes.
“We have to stop meeting like this, don’t you think, Ara?”
“Don’t call me that. Only my friends call me that,” she says through gritted teeth.
I can’t help but chuckle, and it seems to only infuriate her more. I lean down and reach out for her, but she slaps my hand away. Just as quickly, I grab the same hand and reach for her throat. She’s startled by the sudden movement as I press my knee in between her legs.
“Well, I think we’re a little more intimate than friends wouldn’t you say?” I offer her a charming smile. Her gaze is all poison and all for me. I wonder how many others see this dangerous expression on this woman who, by day, pretends to be the perfect CEO daughter. By night, the woman is trying to wreak havoc in my life. And I still have no idea why.
I stroke her sharp cheekbone, detailing every dip and curve of her features. It’s her nose that’s different this time. The craftmanship on her face is well detailed. When I look down, I can see the ample swell of her breasts, even under the atrocious, baggy attire she wears.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” I say, tightening my hold around her throat. “Maybe you simply want me to break apart your perfect little world.” The thrum of her pulse picks up under my thumb, and we’re both reminded how easy it will be for me to snuff her life out. This little viper, a woman who should be removed. Yet…even she has value as a pawn.
I brush my lips against hers. It’s like the first night I met her all over again. On her knees, bottom lip wobbling in fear. I wanted to break her back then, and now I want to break her even more. Her breath hitches the moment my lips brush against hers, and I tighten my grip to the point of leaving a bruise, just in case she has the means to escape.
I force my tongue against hers, cutting off her airway.
I eat away at her resistance.
Hell, I want to devour her until her very last breath.
Which might be sooner then she realizes.