One #2
Your club is known for its discretion and for protecting its clients’ identities, that’s why my father gave us his membership card. But he never told us who owned the place.”
“That’s right. We guarantee our clients the most unforgettable nights of their lives, without ever having to worry about scandal. But on the other hand, we make different promises to our staff.”
I pause for a moment to stub out my cigarette. “Personally, I make every woman who sets foot in here three promises—good money, good sex, and good protection. So tell me... what should I do with some dog who comes in here and tears into one of my girls?”
He clenches his jaw but remains silent. I rest both forearms on the glass desk and lean forward. “You know, I’m a big fan of anal myself. Nothing feels better than a tight ass around your cock. I’m sure you agree.”
His face is draining of color with every passing second. I call one of my men over and whisper something in his ear. Once he leaves, I stand up and walk around the desk again, stopping right in front of them.
“Every woman in this place has taken it up the ass for me at least once. Not because I’m the boss, but because they wanted to. When a man knows what he’s doing and takes his time, anal can feel better than vaginal sex.”
He stares at me, completely lost, like he can’t make sense of the twisted shit coming out of my mouth. A wicked smirk creeps across my face.
“But just like that kind of experience can be the most mind-blowing pleasure for a woman... it can also be her worst nightmare. The kind of pain that sticks with a woman for the rest of her life. The hell you put Penelope through tonight, the pain she endured—that’ll stay with her until the day she dies. ”
“Now, if the name Carlo Bruni rings a bell, you already know one thing about the man: his first rule is simple—eye for an eye.”
That’s when it finally clicks. The one with his mouth taped starts making pitiful noises behind the gag, but the other one clings to his last defense—threats.
“Go ahead. I fucking dare you to touch me. Do it, and see what happens to you and that bastard Don Carlo of yours. My father is a high-ranking member of parliament. He’s close friends with the goddamn Prime Minister.”
This time, I burst out laughing for real, and snap my fingers at my men.
The door opens, and two of the girls walk in, their faces and bodies completely covered to avoid being recognized.
The straps around their waists and the panic exploding across Roberto’s face make it pretty damn obvious what’s about to happen.
These two fuckers are about to get a taste of their own medicine.
Both of them start thrashing the moment they see what’s coming. The girls stand silently in the corner, waiting for my signal.
I open the drawer, pull out a brass knuckle, slip it onto my right hand, and walk up to Roberto.
“Next time you think about touching a woman without her consent, remember the kind of pain you’re inflicting on her.”
“I swear I’ll make you regret this. I’ll find you, even if you crawl under a fucking rock—”
I cut him off with a brutal punch to the mouth. Blood sprays from his lips as he groans in pain. I grab a fistful of his hair, yank his head back, and lean in close.
“That’s for running your mouth and tossing around empty threats. If you ever decide to come looking for me... don’t bother crawling under rocks. I’ll be right here.”
I release his hair with a flick and straighten up. “As of tonight, you’re banned from stepping foot on any property owned by the Bruni family. And don’t worry—I’ll make sure not a single club in Rome will take you in again.”
I point a finger at him. “And you better remember this—if you so much as look at one of my girls the wrong way...if your filthy hand so much as brushes against any of them...don’t expect the mercy you got tonight. Next time, it won’t be your ass I tear open—it’ll be your fucking throat.”
I turn and walk out, his screams echoing behind me, begging for mercy that’s never coming.
***
While Gabriel’s tiny fists punch the air and he lets out a string of noises only God could understand, Carlo yanks off the dirty diaper and nails a perfect three-pointer into the trash can.
He presses the soles of Gabriel’s feet together and lifts his little ass off the changing table to wipe away the rest of the royal crap clinging to His Highness’s butt.
In a flash, he rubs in the baby oil and straps on a fresh diaper. He moves so fast and confidently that the little devil starts giggling uncontrollably, delighted by the whole show.
As soon as the last tab is in place, Carlo lifts Gabriel over his head like a championship trophy, making the baby laugh out loud in pure joy.
“How long?” he asks.
I glance at my watch, reluctantly. “Forty-five seconds.”
“Yes! Finally beat Emily’s record!”
I take a sip of my drink, but Carlo—overjoyed—tosses Gabriel so high into the air that the little devil’s faint eyebrows nearly stick to his scalp. His mouth drops open in shock… until he lands safely in his father’s strong hands and bursts into laughter again.