2. Heaven
CHAPTER 2
HEAVEN
THREE WEEKS LATER
T onight, all secrets will be revealed.
Sick, twisted, and otherwise.
Because something is going on and, although I’m meant to be underboss, equal to Conor, everyone has been tight-lipped. I’m going to find out why.
I know it has something to do with the darkly dangerous and elusive Matteo Villani.
There’s only one way I can think of to see him, and this is it.
“This is really fucked up, Heaven,” my younger brother, Patrick, mutters, as we cut across Greene Street in SoHo, then across Prince, and left again. He fumbles with his black eye mask. “I mean, I’m all for doing reconnaissance, but going to a sex club with your sister is just… sick .”
“Put your mask on,” I say, “we’re close.”
“This mask is really friggin’ itchy. How long do I need to keep it on?”
“Everyone enters wearing a mask.” My high heels click along the pavement as we cross a desolate street, the moon disappearing behind the tall, old buildings. Darkness falls upon us, the street lamps sparse. “It’s for anonymity, dipshit. We’re on a mission, remember?”
I loop my arm through his as we near the private entrance of this nondescript Manhattan town house deep in the heart of SoHo. I’m already feeling the bravado from the shots of whiskey I had before heading to this carnal celebration of All Hallow’s Eve.
A woman with the kind of figure that fuels X-rated fantasies sashays past, and suddenly Patrick is eager to get in the doors.
We approach the masked doorman. I reach in my clutch for the brass token that was delivered via messenger to my Upper West Side brownstone a few days earlier.
I’m not stupid enough to join this club, but I needed an in. I called in a few favors and had hard words with the right—or is that wrong?—people. And here we are, under a borrowed name.
“What’s this mission for again? We’re meeting the Villanis soon. Why not just wait?” Patrick looks around as we slide inside the Villani sex club. It’s not the official name but what I call it.
“Don’t you think it’s odd I’ve been kept out of the details of the whole arrangement?”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.
And it’s more than that. Our family having a business venture with the Villani family, Sicilian mafia transplants who came to New York to make a name, isn’t an issue. It’s the fact I happen to know this business is specifically with Matteo.
The man whose name strikes fear in too many black, evil hearts.
Something is up, so I’m here. Everyone who’s anyone, the glitterati and the rich, corrupt, and powerful, is here at the famed Halloween bash tonight.
That means Matteo will be here, too.
I need a look, to see him in his element, get a feel, even if it’s from afar, which is what I’m aiming for. And, if I find a few things out along the way…good. I’m not going in blind to our upcoming meeting.
“It’s weird, and I don’t like being shut out.” I flash my brother a smile. “Where better to find out dirt than in his domain? He’s not one to go into business ventures.”
“It might be his family. That’s what Dad and Conor said. A family business venture.”
“Conor—” I pause as we cross the vast foyer toward the doors to the inner sanctum. “Conor’s tight-lipped on this.”
“You have a point.”
Conor usually wouldn’t know the meaning of the word discretion, let alone secret. So, this worries me. “Of course I do. And he’s gotten his head stuck so far up Dad’s ass that he’ll listen to any offer Villani makes us and take it without even knowing who or what we’re dealing with.”
“But what are we gonna find out tonight, Heaven? How big the Villani cocks are? How many chicks they can bang at once? How is any of that gonna help you at that meeting?”
“I overheard them mention Matteo specifically. And if there’s dirt, I want it, but mostly, I want to observe him in his natural habitat, see what I can learn about him.”
Lots, if you’re smart about it. I’m intending to be a damn genius.
“How are you going to find Matteo with his mask on? Or any of them?”
“I’m Irish and pretty damn tenacious. Now, move.”
He might have a point, but I’ll find a way. I push open the second set of doors and we’re swallowed by a different world.
Low and sexy beats throb in the air, winding around us, and everything is rich and evocative and sexy. Toned, tall women move amid the patrons with silver trays of champagne flutes and shot glasses of some amber-colored liquid. They’re naked with black straps wound around their lithe bodies. The straps cross over their breasts, then wind over taut, oiled bellies, and through their legs, leaving waxed pussies on display. All they wear are stilettos and beautiful black masks.
My brother is staring hard, and I elbow him discreetly as I look around. The place is breathtaking. It’s an industrial space that’s on show with original beams and wrought iron, a tribute to SoHo’s history. The dark chandeliers that drip from the vaulted ceiling bathe it all in golden light. They set the mood rather than illuminate. The walls are a dark red, and there are doors leading off in various directions, along with a curved staircase nestled in the middle of the space leading up, and another to the left leading down.
This place is big. It must be more than the building we entered. The sex trade is obviously good for the Villani family.
Another narrow staircase, the one to the left, has my attention. It clearly leads to the underbelly of this wanton house of ill repute. I suck in a breath as two of the bound-up girls, one blonde and one brunette, place their trays on a nearby end table and start grinding together in the middle of the curved staircase as partygoers pass.
The blonde backs the brunette against the wrought-iron handrail, shimmying down the length of the brunette like she’s a freaking pole. The brunette throws her head back when the blonde’s hands disappear between her legs. And I can’t tear my gaze away as she sinks down to her knees, parts the brunette’s thighs, and licks her way up to her pussy.
Holy fuck.
I’ve watched porn before, but this?
I’m frozen. Girl on girl isn’t my thing, but this unadorned eroticism, this sexual heat, naked and open, is hot as hell.
“Jesus, Heaven,” Patrick says. “This place is off the fucking hook. If we do end up partnering with these guys, I’m gonna be here every night. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even perform.”
“They wouldn’t have you, Patty.” I drag him from the staircase scene to a darker corner. Someone rubs against me but I move away. “Remember why we’re here.”
“Right, right. Tonight, we spy.” He grins, his blue eyes twinkling. “But it’s not gonna stop me from gawking, sis. Sorry, not sorry.”
“Let’s take a lap around the place to start, okay?” I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but I’ll know it when I see it.
Patrick is already heading off in a different direction, toward a hallway leading to God only knows what.
“Good idea.” He gives me a wink. “I’m lapping over there. You lap the other way and we’ll meet back here in like, thirty.”
“How am I going to find you? We can’t use our phones, it’s against the rules.”
“What happens if you break a rule?” His eyebrows shoot up. “Do they whip you? Chain you to a wall and use a Hitachi Magic Wand on you until you scream the safe word?”
I press my fingertips to my temples. “Good Lord, why did I bring you here?”
“Because you know I’m all about new experiences,” he says. “How the fuck have I survived this long without ever scoring an invite to a place like this? Look what I’ve been missing.” He grins. Patty may not be a frequenter of sex dens, but he sure isn’t hard up for female attention.
And this is not what I want to discuss with him. This is a mission. Not an opportunity for him. “Patty.”
“You have what you need,” he says. “If push comes to shove, use it. You’re the underboss, Heaven. You don’t take shit from anyone.”
The entire reason we’re here in the first place.
I’m one step away from the crown.
I look at Patrick. “Remember, we’re on a mission.”
“Do me a favor and try not to be such a control freak tonight. Just be a, you know, freak. You might enjoy it.” He chuckles and gives me a nudge, then takes off into the crowd.
He’s never coming back in thirty minutes.
Maybe thirty days.
I need to start somewhere. Luckily, what’s distracting Patty is distracting everyone else, so poking around should be easy. Maybe downstairs… But I spy a man in leather down there leading another on all fours with a black leather tail sprouting from his ass.
A naked woman with a lot of piercings heads that way, and she’s glistening and I’m not sure I want to know with what.
Maybe…maybe I should start somewhere else.
But if Villani is anywhere, it’ll be down there. I take a breath as I descend that set of stairs, the music changing into a lower, more hypnotic thrum. I’m in a wide space, with a bar in one corner, complete with sofas and chairs. There are other rooms and halls leading off the main area. I’m not sure where to start, as men and women, most in leather with piercings, openly ogle me. There are collars and leads and men and women on their hands and knees. This is where the serious kink happens. My gaze is drawn to a dusky rose room to my right. Inside, couples and throuples writhe together to a low, sensuous beat. A woman barely wearing a white dress is being fingered by one man, while another sucks her nipples, and yet another kisses her with erotic, open-mouthed kisses. I stop, stare, unable to help myself.
It’s hot. And my skin starts to prickle as though I’m being touched, watched, wanted.
I’m not even sure it’s them causing that feeling. Part of it is, but as I stand there, something electric passes through me, and a hand whispers against my bare arm.
That touch is a cascade of sweet fire, and there’s a lick of deep arousal inside me. I spin, but whoever it is has moved on.
Breathing out, I decide it’s just all the sex getting to me. I mean, it’s a lot of boobs and balls and tongues and things?—
“For you.”
I look up at the impossibly gorgeous, naked woman holding a matte black tray with a crystal glass of amber liquid.
They read minds, apparently. Because a drink is what I need. I murmur thanks and take the highball, downing it. Whiskey. Good Irish by the taste. It burns a path to my belly and does nothing to put out the fire there.
The woman takes the glass, and I walk farther into the large space, passing the orgy room. I might only be twenty-four, but I’ve seen way more than most my age. This is a cakewalk. A sexy, naked, sweaty cakewalk, but still, a cakewalk.
Sex clubs aren’t my scene. How could they be after?—?
I swallow, burying that pain and anger and guilt back where it came from. I don’t need my past biting me when I’m on a mission.
I place my hand on the cool wall near another open door and pause, unable to help myself.
The room is entirely lit by candles that line the perimeter, flickering wildly as the show on center stage heats up. A hypnotic, pagan beat vibrates the floor beneath my feet, and I try not to gape at the scene playing out in front of me.
Two naked women are tied to a long pole that stretches across the room. Silky fabric winds around their wrists and ankles as they sway to the music pulsating throughout the space. Two other women kneel in front of them, licking their pussies.
My breath hitches when four men in full-length black capes appear from the corners of the room. The capes fall open in the front, exposing their hard cocks and washboard abs. Two of them kneel behind the girls eating out the ‘captives’ while the other two position themselves against the captives’ backs.
I swallow hard. The main act commences and the men drop their capes. The women who have been going down on the other two rise, and they’re wearing strap-ons. They part the thighs of the captives and thrust in, just as the men do the same to them from behind. The other two men push into the asses of the bound women, and it’s full on.
Every thrust and move of the double fucking is designed to torture the captives in a way that makes them beg for orgasmic release. The women are displayed in lewd eroticism so the people watching can see everything, and then it all spirals down as one of the men gestures to the audience for them to begin, and soon others are joining in, and it’s a full-on fuck fest. It isn’t long before their howls and screams and moans pierce the air and drown out the haunting melody.
I clench my hands, my pulse rocketing into the vaulted ceilings.
Blood rushes between my ears as the performance reaches its climax.
I shiver again, feeling that sensation from before, when someone’s touch slides over me, making me burn hotter than the scene before me.
“Like what you see?” a voice says against my ear.
His voice is low and rich and full of wicked intent, and it’s like a caress against my skin. I close my eyes, trying to get myself under control.
I attempt to maintain composure. “It’s interesting.”
The man laughs, and I turn to face him, but he slides back behind me. His fingers don’t touch, but I can feel the flutter in the air as he slips them down just shy of caressing my exposed back. “There are better things here.”
“I’m just here to observe.”
“An innocent?”
“Innocent? At something like this?” I laugh. “Hardly.”
I’m in so far over my head, I could easily be drowning, but I’m not. I’m good at hiding behind a mask, and I toss my hair, aiming for cool, bored, and unaffected. I’m anything but. And this man—whoever he is—pushes my pulse higher than the scene I just witnessed.
“It’s okay, you know,” he murmurs, rich voice full of amusement and latent heat. “Lots of people are curious…”
My heart beats fast. He must work here. I can use that. “You could say I’m curious.” I pause. “I have questions.”
“I’m sure you do.” His voice changes, and a jolt of electricity shoots through my blood.
It can’t be Matteo. This man sounds American. Sensuous, darkly dangerous, like once-in-a-lifetime sex. Which is what he’d have staff for—to create that feeling and push it along.
This guy must be that. I test my theory. “Do you come here often?”
“A loaded question.”
Heat snakes through me. “I meant?—”
“I’ve freedom to do what I want, who I want, when I want, as long as the club runs smoothly.”
Pay dirt. I shift, but so does he. I still can’t catch a glimpse of him, and that small game of cat and mouse makes my blood pressure tick up. “You work here.”
“Meeting women like you isn’t work.”
Words that must make women drop their panties. I swallow. “Is it hard to keep an eye on things?”
“I only keep an eye on what interests me. That room is a show, to allow the curious a small taste of the life, a day pass, if you will. The other one before that is for those who want to play straight out and dirty. Couples who want to be watched. People who like to play with others. There are more…intriguing rooms, if you’re interested.”
I turn again, and this time he stays in place, letting me see him, and a thrill surges in my blood.
Matteo picks his staff with perfection.
This man has thick black hair and an air of power about him, like a Roman god. Through the black mask he’s got the most devastatingly blue eyes I’ve ever seen, like molten sex. And his mouth, oh, that mouth is sensuous. I bet he can do things that would put Satan to shame with that mouth. He’s gorgeous, I can see that, even with the mask. He’s tall, and I have to lift my chin to truly see him, and he holds me there with his gaze, making my pulse leap and spin.
“Why would I be interested?”
His mouth curves very slightly, almost like he’s mocking me. “You’re here.”
“So I am.”
“This place, done right, has the ability to feed your deepest fantasies and desires.” He considers me, then leans in, breath hot against my ear, making me shiver. “Especially the ones you didn’t know you had.”
“You think you could give me that?”
He meets my gaze again, burning down into me.
“Yes.”
The room contracts until it’s just me and him, and that beat of awareness that thickens the air between us makes my blood hot and needy in my veins.
“It’s my first time at something like this.” I decide to skirt close to the truth, because I can play him into giving me something on his boss, I know it. Especially if he thinks I’m some kind of na?ve female.
“I know.”
Desire flares dark, and I’m aware he’s mocking me. “You don’t know me.”
“I know you’re trying to pretend you don’t harbor deep, dark desires. I know you want me to taste your skin, maybe slide my hand down under your dress to see if you’re wearing underwear. A thong, if I’m not mistaken. And I bet it’s lace and wet as fuck right now.”
Heat licks me again, deep inside my belly. This asshole is right. I’m wet. I want him to touch me. This has spiraled hard and fast out of my control, and he knows it. It’s the stillness to him that gives him power. They probably have a class on it.
“You go someplace far away in your head when you come close to the true depths of your desires.”
I frown. “I don’t know you.”
“No one comes here for coffee and cake,” he murmurs. “They come to fulfill those fantasies. And you want to do exactly that. I’m betting right now, in all your fantasies, I’m the star.”
“Does this work on most women?”
He laughs softly. “Just you. Because you like a challenge. And you want to be tied up like those women and teased to orgasm. You want to give me your control. You want a taste.”
I try to form words but can’t. There are no snappy comebacks, nothing at all but need and heat and hunger. I’m throbbing, every pulse point alive and calling for satiation. I sway a little and gasp in air, and he doesn’t move at all.
With effort, I ask, “And if I do?”
His gaze drops to my mouth, lingers.
“Permission to touch?”