Chapter 15
Penthouse. 8:19 PM.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window.
City sprawling beneath my bare feet.
Still calm.
Still controlled.
Phone crushed.
Evidence erased.
But before I could even move toward my backup comms—
BZZZT.
Tablet buzzed.
Selene.
Of course.
Tiny menace.
The message popped up.
SELENE:
YOU'RE NOT REAL.
YOU'RE AN ARCHITECTURE BUILT BY GOD HIMSELF.
I JUST HEARD THAT WHOLE CONVERSATION THROUGH THE TAP.
I AM 4'10. I CANNOT HANDLE THAT LEVEL OF DOMINANCE.
I AM CURRENTLY MELTING INTO A LESBIAN PUDDLE.
I'M GOING TO LICK YOUR VOICE.
SELENE:
YOU COULD TELL ME TO ROB THE VATICAN RIGHT NOW AND I'D ASK HOW MANY BAGS YOU NEED.
SELENE:
FUCK FUCK FUCK YOU'RE SO HOT I CAN'T TYPE I CANT brEATHE HELP I NEED CPR (FROM YOU SPECIFICALLY).
I stared at the tablet.
Blinking once.
Slowly.
God help her.
Mid-scroll?
Phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
Direct line.
I answered without hesitation.
Brought it smoothly to my ear.
Marco's voice crackled through the line.
Calm.
Professional.
Measured.
"I'm interested."
Bingo.
I leaned against the window frame lazily, voice soft:
"Good."
He cleared his throat lightly.
No panic.
No anger.
All business.
Exactly how predators talked when they thought they still had the upper hand.
"Partnerships aren't cheap, Ms. Maricella. You understand the stakes?"
I smiled faintly.
Voice silk over knives:
"I wrote the stakes, Mr. Vercetti. You just never realized you were playing by my rules."
He hummed once, low approval hidden inside.
"...Where do you propose we begin?"
I kept my tone clean.
Sharp.
Business-shark level:
"Simple. Asset exchange. Information leverage. Mutual security benefits. Expansion into sectors you're currently locked out of."
Pause.
Then—
"I can open gates your name can't, Marco."
The line went quiet.
I could almost feel him thinking.
Calculating.
Trying to decide if Anna Maricella was real.
If I was a weapon worth keeping close.
Not knowing—
Not suspecting for a second—
That he was speaking to the very orphan slut he tried to erase from the earth.
That he was bargaining with his daughter's future wife.
I leaned my forehead against the glass window.
Watching the city move far, far below.
Still casual.
Still deadly.
"We could change the world, Mr. Vercetti."
He chuckled once.
Low.
Curious.
"Or burn it down."
I smiled.
"Sometimes the difference is just good marketing."
Private Vercetti Lounge. 10:03 PM.
Low lighting.
Gold-framed portraits staring down from the dark velvet walls.
Thick cigar smoke coiled through the air like dying ghosts.
Only four people in the room.
Marco.
Two of his bodyguards.
And Valentina.
Standing quietly behind him, hands clasped, mask-perfect.
Pretending to be his pretty, loyal daughter.
Pretending not to recognize the hurricane about to walk through the door.
Because tonight?
She wasn't meeting Emily Stonebrook.
She wasn't meeting her messy, hoodie-wearing chaos girl.
She was meeting Anna Maricella.
The door creaked open.
Marco's guards tensed.
Marco sat back in his chair, wine glass in hand, smirking like a king about to welcome another pawn into his empire.
Then I stepped inside.
Silent.
Controlled.
Deadly.
Black suit tailored like a blade.
Gloves.
Combat boots polished but heavy enough to break kneecaps.
And over my face?
A smooth black ball mask.
No eye slits.
No mouth slit.
Just a perfectly blank face staring back.
A faceless force.
A storm dressed in skin.
The entire room shifted when I entered.
Power.
Raw.
Unapologetic.
The bodyguards stiffened instinctively.
Valentina—
Behind Marco?
Nearly lost her fucking mind.
I heard it.
The tiny breath she sucked in sharply through her nose.
Saw the way her knees buckled slightly, pressing her thighs together.
She gripped the chair's back with white knuckles.
Face perfect.
But her soul?
FERAL.
I smirked under the mask.
Knew exactly what I was doing to her.
And loved it.
Private Lounge Meeting. 10:05 PM.
Marco gestured lazily to the chair across from him.
"Ms. Maricella," he said, voice low, smooth. "Welcome."
I didn't sit.
I just stood there.
Head tilted slightly.
Waiting.
Watching.
Letting the silence rot.
Letting the room sweat.
Finally, Marco cleared his throat.
"Very well. Straight to business."
He leaned forward.
"You claim you can bring me new power."
I cocked my head slightly to the left.
Pulled a small drive from my jacket pocket.
Tossed it onto the table.
It slid like a whisper.
Marco raised an eyebrow.
Nodded to his guard.
The man plugged it into the laptop.
Screen flashed.
Files opened.
Then—
Blueprints.
Surveillance leaks.
Locations of every rat in his network.
Evidence of every cop he owns.
Proof of every off-record bribe sitting in digital escrow.
The guard's mouth fell open.
Marco sat still.
Silent.
But I knew him.
I knew the way his fingers twitched slightly at the power he saw.
Knew the way his mind spun like a slot machine hitting jackpot after jackpot.
Valentina?
I heard the tiniest, tinest whimper escape her throat.
She grabbed the chair so hard the wood creaked.
She was seconds from folding.
Seconds from walking across the floor and throwing herself onto my lap in front of her own father.
Final Strike. 10:08 PM.
I spoke.
First words all night.
Voice low.
Steady.
Deadly.
"This is a taste."
I took one step forward.
Marco didn't move.
Bodyguards watched me like dogs waiting for the command to attack.
I leaned slightly over the table.
Voice a razor.
"With me, you rule the next decade."
Another pause.
"Without me?"
I smiled under the mask.
Let my body lean just a little closer.
"You don't see another summer."
Silence.
Heavy.
Electric.
Marco stared at me.
Measuring.
Calculating.
Finally, a slow grin stretched across his face.
"I think we can work something out," he said, voice rich with greed.
Behind him?
Valentina's legs nearly gave out.
I straightened.
Turned casually.
And walked out of the room.
Letting the silence sit for a while.
Vercetti Estate. Private Lounge. 10:36 PM.
I sat across from Marco now.
Still masked.
Still calm.
Legs crossed.
Posture dripping with confidence like a queen already sitting on the ruins of his empire.
Marco sipped his whiskey.
Eyes sharp.
Hungry.
Calculating every inch of me.
Behind him?
Valentina stood.
Silent.
Breathing hard through her nose.
Hands gripping the back of his chair so tight her knuckles were bone-white.
Holding herself together by sheer, pathetic threads.
Her thighs pressed tightly.
Fingers twitching like she wanted to rip the mask off my face and ride me on the fucking conference table.
But she stayed silent.
Stayed "good."
Because tonight?
She would watch me dominate her father's entire world.
And she would love every second of it.
Private Meeting. 10:37 PM.
I leaned back lazily.
Tapped my gloved fingers on the armrest once.
Twice.
Pulled out a sleek black flash drive.
Placed it softly on the table.
Marco's gaze flicked to it.
He gestured.
The guard plugged it into the laptop.
Screen opened.
Asset List.
Correction.
Fake Asset list.
Not just money.
Fake power.
Enough to make the poor bastard Marco believe.
A controlling share in one of New York's biggest international banks.
Ownership of two offshore oil companies operating under silent contracts.
Blackmail files on three major senators.
Real estate empire stretching across Dubai, Paris, London.
Security company secretly handling contracts for half of the private militaries in Europe.
Cyberwarfare teams under secret ownership.
Crypto holdings worth more than the entire Vercetti liquid fortune.
His hand froze on the whiskey glass.
I tilted my head slightly.
Voice smooth as sin:
"This is what I own."
Let it sink.
Let it rot in his chest.
Let him taste it.
I let a long pause stretch across the room.
Then added:
"And I'm willing to pass a fraction of it... into your hands."
Another breath.
Calm.
Deadly.
"In exchange."
Marco raised one eyebrow.
Voice casual:
"...In exchange for what?"
I smiled lazily under the mask.
Slid the final dagger across the table with my words:
"Your daughter."
Silence.
The air thickened like syrup.
Valentina gasped softly behind him—
So soft most people wouldn't have caught it.
But I did.
Because I was the reason she was soaking through her panties right now.
Marco laughed once under his breath.
"Marriage?"
"Marriage," I agreed coolly.
He sat back.
Twisting his ring slowly around his finger.
Playing king.
Pretending he had options.
"You know," he said lazily, "in my world, daughters are usually used to seal alliances...not create them."
I didn't blink.
Didn't move.
Voice flat:
"I'm not your world, Mr. Vercetti."
Another pause.
Marco smirked.
"But even for you—"
He leaned forward slightly.
"—you're asking for quite the price."
I shrugged one shoulder.
Nonchalant.
Predator to prey.
"Then bargain."
He laughed again.
Low.
Dark.
A real dealmaker's laugh.
He listed casually:
"I want twenty percent more from the European securities.
I want a silent partner clause on your oil companies.
And I want first rights to your cyberwarfare contracts in Asia."
I pretended to consider.
Tapping my gloved finger against my thigh.
Slowly.
Letting the tension build.
Then—
"Done."
Just like that.
Marco's smirk deepened.
He leaned back satisfied.
Oblivious.
Utterly blind to the noose tightening around his empire.
Valentina's whole body trembled.
She gripped the chair so hard she thought it would splinter.
Sweat beaded down her spine.
Between her thighs?
A flood.
An ocean.
A hurricane.
Watching me casually buy her like the rarest jewel in the world—
Watching her dominate her father—
Watching her turn the entire Vercetti fortune into her plaything—
It broke her.
Shattered every inch of her.
Inside her mind, she was screaming:
"Take me right now."
"Fuck me against the window."
"Own me like you own the world."
But all she could do?
Was stand.
And breathe.
And drown in her own soaking heat.
And pray I didn't hear the desperate whimpers trapped behind her teeth.
Closing the Deal. 10:44 PM.
I stood.
Graceful.
Lethal.
Extended one gloved hand across the table.
Marco shook it.
Sealed the deal.
Blind.
Oblivious.
Smiling at his own future destruction.
I leaned closer.
Whispered low under the mask:
"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Vercetti."
Then turned on my heel.
Walked out.
Valentina's eyes never leaving my back.
Her thighs shaking.
Her soul already tattooed with my name.
Marco swirling his whiskey.
Valentina standing behind him, vibrating with enough unspent tension to level the entire mansion.
I paused.
Turned slightly.
Voice soft.
Silk-wrapped steel.
"Before I go, Mr. Vercetti..."
He glanced up lazily.
Amused.
Curious.
"Mind if I speak with your daughter?"
A heartbeat of silence.
I tilted my head slightly.
Voice clean, respectful:
"After all...we're getting married.
I'd like to get to know my bride a little better."
Valentina's knees visibly buckled for half a second.
Marco chuckled low under his breath.
Waved a lazy hand.
"Of course. Go ahead, Ms. Maricella. She's yours for now."
Always was. Always will be.
I stepped forward casually.
Passed by Marco's chair.
Leaning just enough to add with the faintest smile:
"And... I'm sorry for your losses.
I heard what happened with Matteo."
Marco's jaw twitched.
His pride hated it.
I didn't stop.
"And Victor?" I shrugged slightly, careless.
"Some bloodlines were meant for the gutter.
The Calderóns... were trash diggers anyway."
I walked past him smoothly.
Valentina following like a moth drawn into wildfire.
I kept speaking, loud enough for him to hear:
"Criminals should work in the shadows, Mr. Vercetti.
Not parade their sins in the street like circus clowns."
I turned slightly.
Eyes hidden behind the ball mask.
Voice softer.
More dangerous:
"They broke the code.
Public sin brings public consequence."
Marco nodded slowly.
Face unreadable.
But inside?
I could feel it.
Respect.
Fear.
The subtle understanding:
Anna Maricella wasn't an ally.
She was a weapon.
And he better keep her pointed at other people.
Not at him.
I smirked under the mask.
"Don't worry, Mr. Vercetti."
Pause.
"I got a better wedding gift."
He laughed once.
Dark.
Curious.
"I'm looking forward to it."
He turned back to his drink.
Trusting me with his daughter.
Trusting me with his future.
Trusting the devil herself.
Hallway Outside. 10:49 PM.
Valentina followed me out of the lounge.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Her back hit the wall.
Hard.
Chest heaving.
She stared up at me—
The mask.
The presence.
Me.
And she was shaking.
Absolutely dripping with tension and something even dirtier.
She whispered, broken:
"I'm gonna fucking die."
I leaned down slow.
Gloved fingers tracing lightly under her chin.
Voice low:
"Not yet, princesa."
Her knees buckled again.
But not yet.
Because tonight?
I had bigger things to kill first.
Outside the Private Lounge. 10:50 PM.
Valentina stood against the wall.
Face flushed.
Chest rising in shaky, shallow breaths.
Hands fidgeting in front of her like she was trying to hold back a nuclear explosion inside her own body.
I stood close enough that she could feel the heat rolling off my body through the suit and gloves.
Silent.
Still masked.
Still untouchable.
Marco's voice floated through the slightly open door behind her:
"Princesa, where are you going?"
Valentina straightened up fast.
Flipped into perfect daughter mode.
Turned around, smiling sweetly into the room.
Voice syrupy-smooth:
"Mind if Anna crashes here tonight, Daddy?"
Marco chuckled.
Low and indulgent.
"Here?"
She nodded, playing the part like a born mafia princess.
Twisting the ring on her finger, looking shy.
"She had a long flight back from Europe.
And she wants to have a little... conversation about how she's planning to look after me."
Pause.
She smiled wider.
"She also said she's going to tell me about the secret wedding gift she's preparing for you.
You're the only one who's getting surprised though, right?"
Marco's laugh rumbled deep from his chest.
Proud.
Entertained.
Blind.
"Of course, princesa," he said smoothly.
"Spend time with your future wife.
Build that bond."
He waved a hand lazily.
"Take any guest room you want."
Valentina grinned.
"Thanks, Daddy."
She turned back around.
Door clicked quietly shut.
And she practically dragged me by the wrist down the hallway—
Her entire body shaking with energy and pure, feral tension.
Vercetti Estate. Private Guest Room. 10:53 PM.
The door slammed shut behind us.
Lock clicked.
Silence.
Valentina stood there—
Back to the door.
Chest heaving.
Face red.
Legs trembling.
I peeled my gloves off slowly.
One by one.
Let them drop on the dresser like a trail of sin.
Pulled the ball mask off.
Revealed my face.
The real me.
Anna Maricella.
Emily Stonebrook.
Everything at once.
Her mouth fell open.
A tiny, broken noise escaped her throat.
She pressed herself harder into the door like it could hold her together when her own body couldn't.
I smiled lazily.
Voice low.
Deadly.
"Now, princesa..."
I stepped closer.
Boots silent on the marble floor.
"Let's have that... conversation."
Valentina whimpered.
Actually whimpered.
Because tonight?
There were no rules.
No masks.
Just two women—
One who owned the world.
And one who was about to be owned completely.