Chapter 38 Worst Night Of My Life
Worst Night Of My Life
I know that you’re still looking out for me, even if it’s from afar. —Izzy
Izzy
Enzo’s palm rests on my thigh as the driver pulls away from the curb. My nerve endings alight at his touch, my body humming with anticipation.
He hits the intercom. “Hey, Rafael, can you drive around the block for an extra thirty minutes.”
Enzo lowers himself into the footwell, hands gliding up my thighs as he pushes my silk dress higher, bunching the fabric at my hips until my panties are exposed.
I hiss when he brushes his nose over the delicate lace, inhaling deeply before lifting his gaze to mine—his eyes dark and hooded. “Your scent is fucking divine, Isolde.”
A whimper escapes me as he slides the lace aside and sinks two fingers inside without warning. There’s no pause, no mercy—his mouth follows instantly, latching onto my clit, tongue swirling with maddening precision.
My hips jolt.
Fingers tangle in his hair, desperate and shaking as I hold him there. He groans into me, the vibration rippling through my core, sending electric pulses up my spine.
His fingers curl, hitting that spot—the spot—and my eyes roll back as a cry breaks from my lips.
“That’s it, Cuore mio,” Enzo murmurs against me. “Fall apart. I’ve got you.”
Then he’s back at it—ravenous, relentless—devouring me like a starving man tasting his last meal on earth. My head hits the seat as I writhe against his mouth, ringing out every ounce of pleasure from my body.
Before I can catch my breath, Enzo slides back onto the seat beside me, grabbing my hips and pulling me onto his lap—my thighs straddling his.
My movements are clumsy, frantic, as I tug down his zipper, freeing his cock from his briefs and sinking down onto him.
He groans, face buried in my hair. His hips thrust upward as I grind down, and I can’t stop the moans spilling from my lips.
Enzo’s fingers tangle in my hair, tearing through the carefully pinned updo I spent hours perfecting.
I don’t care.
All that matters is the feel of him inside me—the stretch, the way he fills me like he was made for this. For me.
Without pulling out, Enzo shifts, flipping us so my back hits the seat. He drives into me with brutal, unrelenting thrusts, fucking me until my thoughts vanish and his name tears from my throat in a scream.
He doesn’t stop.
Even as I tremble, my limbs reduced to jelly, he keeps going—ruthless and determined—until he roars, spilling inside me with a shuddering release.
Then—
“We’re here. Also, the mic’s still on. I’ll be ripping out my eardrums now.” Rafael's voice booms through the car's intercom.
Heat rushes to my cheeks as I scramble to make myself presentable.
Enzo moves slowly, calmly, tucking his softening cock back into his pants. His gaze never leaves me as I pull my panties into place. His cum is still dripping from me, trickling down my thighs. His eyes light up. I tug my dress down to cover it—the silk rumpled.
My hair is a disaster. I undo the last of the pins and Enzo reaches over, helping unravel the mess until it falls in waves around my shoulders.
He kisses the tip of my nose. “I like it better like this,” he murmurs.
Then he opens the door and offers me his hand.
I slide my clammy palm into his, letting him pull me from the car. Rafael stands off to the side, eyes averted.
My cheeks burn.
Breathing deeply, I ready myself, concealing my face with a mask.
A bitter taste fills my mouth; the mere thought of facing Lucas after what happened that night fuels a burning resentment.
My knuckles turn white, digging into Enzo's arm as we step inside, a chilling premonition tightening my throat.
He rests his hand over mine, his thumb caressing my skin with a gentle warmth.
At the door, the guard scrutinizes the invitation we forged.
I wait, holding my breath, until he signals us to proceed.
Enzo leans in, whispering, "You can do this, Cuore mio," just as the ballroom doors swing open.
The sheer number of guests at this event is terrifying.
It's not just a matter of how many, but of the identities of those present.
The fucking Vice President is in attendance.
Men of significant wealth and influence are present, including tech moguls, CEOs, and those from old money families.
There aren't many women here, but I'm not the only one.
That thought ignites a furious fire within me, a burning rage that threatens to consume.
I feel a desperate surge of helplessness; these women, their complicity undeniable, are as culpable as the rest.
Grateful for the lack of assigned seating, we settle into a table near the back, where the chatter is less intense.
Lucas appearing onstage stiffens my shoulders; he blends into the walls in his beige suit.
"Friends," he calls into the microphone, the sound amplified and crackling slightly, his hands clapping sharply for attention. The room goes silent, the last few stragglers finding their seats quickly.
“Let’s dive right into the auction tonight, shall we?”
A stocky man drags a naked woman onto the stage. My stomach drops. She’s crying, her head down, shoulders sagged. She’s given up. We knew this was what we were in store for, but seeing it is a whole different ball game.
It never gets easier.
My hand finds Enzo’s under the table. He gives me a reassuring squeeze.
Excited murmurs echo through the hall, men's eyes gleaming as they take in the broken girl.
Gio, who’s sitting at a separate table, gives us a subtle head shake.
He’s here with the ulterior motive of trying to find his sister's best friend.
“This one is well trained, broken in.” Lucas licks his lips as he speaks, gaze roaming over the naked girl with lust. My stomach threatens to empty. “Should we start bidding at $10,000?”
Hands start flying, the price increasing—up and up it goes until it gets to $50,000.
Enzo’s muscles are locked tight next to me, his jaw clenched, eyes threatening to twitch.
The next girl is announced as a virgin. She can’t be much more than sixteen. Her body trembles as she tries to cover herself.
Bidding starts at $40,000.
She’s sold for $100,500.
I make sure to keep track of who buys each girl at the event.
Gio straightens up, his masked face now directed at the girl beside Lucas, a subtle shift in posture noticeable across the room. Lucas has his hand on her breast, a laugh on his lips as he begins the bidding war.
Numbers fly.
Then Gio raises his paddle.
He pays a million for the girl.
This is definitely the best friend.
His restless energy is palpable; he itches to run to that spot, but the need to uphold appearances—for now—keeps him rooted in place. The girl is taken from the stage so they can ‘prepare her’ for him.
Just as I anticipate the end, the lights dip.
Lucas’s voice sends a chill down my spine.
“Our last this evening is a special case. Older than most, but don’t let that stop you. I can personally attest that she’ll be worth your while. But in case you need a little convincing—here’s a video to entice you.”
A screen comes down behind him then a video starts up.
There’s four men and one woman.
No.
Not just any woman.
The nausea is overwhelming. I turn my head sharply, preventing the vomit from hitting me as it splashes onto the floor.
Enzo reacts instantly, standing with his gun cocked. Lucas is its direct target.
"Did you really think you could sneak in here without me noticing?" Lucas taunts as the video continues to play.
The video of the worst night of my life.
“My security team alerted me the moment you walked in the door.” His voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater.
An incessant buzzing, a relentless drone, invades my ears, obliterating everything else. I am transfixed, unable to look away from my own image on the screen as they rob me of everything.
The air feels thin.
It’s hard to breathe.
Enzo
Gio tenses, his hand perched on his holster.
I give him a subtle shake of my head. This isn’t his fight. He needs to maintain his cover so he can get the girl out. Especially now I'm fucking the plan. I hope my papa doesn't kill me for this.
My eyes stay focused on Lucas, though every part of me wishes I could scoop Izzy up and run out of here.
I can hear the way her breath comes out in gasps, the panic wracking her body. I can’t look. Not yet. Not until I’ve put a bullet in her husband's skull.
I’m outnumbered.
Guards around the room all have their own weapons trained on my chest or head.
Lucas laughs from the stage, a mocking sound that grinds my teeth.
But then—
Chaos.
Guests turn on the guards, firing at them. Lucas’s triumphant glare turns fearful as he backs away. I don’t think so.
I stalk towards the stage, firing at anyone who tries to come between me and my prey.
One.
Two.
Three.
They fall.
He cowers, crouching behind the podium.
I reach the stage, mounting the steps with ease. My path is locked. Nothing can stop me now.
Lucas holds his hands up, realizing now the situation he’s in.
“Not such a big man now, are you?” I seethe, spitting the words at him.
He has the gall to grin at me. “I’m sure we can come to an agreement. You want one of the girls for free?”
This motherfucker.
He flinches, ducking away as I fire a shot next to his head. Not to hit him. Just to scare him.
That fucking video of Izzy plays on a loop on the big screen.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
I shoot the screen until it goes blank.
Lucas uses my distraction to his advantage, catching me off guard and tackling me to the floor.
The gun slips from my grasp.
He lunges for it.
I fly up, wrapping my arms around his middle and twisting us.
Punch.
I hit him, my fist slamming into his face. The skin splits at his eyebrow, blood trickling from the wound. I hit him again. Bones crunch.
He knees me, right in the balls.
I fall back, curling up—protective.
He gets his hand around the gun.
For a moment, I think he might just have the upper hand.
Images of Izzy flash through my mind as his finger twitches on the trigger.
I’m sorry, Cuore mio.