18. Take Two
Chapter eighteen
Take Two
(Dante)
I’m thrilled about the insider info regarding Tolya Volkov. Less so about the part where Danica jerked him off with her feet.
It’s not jealousy, more guilt—she shouldn’t have to do this; it’s not her mess to sort out.
But Danica is nothing if not determined.
At least we now have a plan for the next phase. We know how many guards there are, how many entrances. It’s only a matter of time before he calls Danica again, and then we’ll be ready.
She’s been working on the Sasha girl from day one, gaining her trust, trying to get her to help. I’m still not sure whose side she’s on and whether she’d be a hindrance more than an aid, but Danica seems to believe Sasha’s got her back.
I make sure that I’m near the club at all times when Danica’s at work. It’s all I can do not to feel completely useless, to keep myself from going crazy, just sitting at home, imagining the worst.
Time passes slowly, but Danica recently introduced me to podcasts, and I quickly found distraction in true crime—it was amusing to me more than anything else, and I kept going back episode after episode.
Usually, it’s incredibly frustrating when the murderer does something stupid and doesn’t cover his tracks. I would never get caught like that.
My favorite part is lying in Danica’s arms at night, telling her about the episodes of the day and how I would have done it differently.
She humors me, but I know her vibe is more those smutty sports romances. Fuck knows why, neither of us are big on sports.
We don’t have to wait long for another chance.
Mere days later, on a Wednesday, that Russian creep upstairs sends for Danica again.
She sends me a quick text from the extra phone she’s been hiding in her make-up bag, and I know we have to act quickly.
This is not a big operation. We have to be discreet. Get in and out with Volkov in tow. He’s our way in, the weakest link in the chain.
“It’s time,” I tell Emilio, and he and Dario slip on their ski masks. I do the same.
We’re by the staff door within minutes. Danica conveniently left it unlocked, a piece of tape wedged over the lock to keep it from slamming fully shut. It looks closed, but it gives up instantly when I touch it, and we push inside quickly before anyone sees us.
As planned, Sasha greets us, leading us through to the dressing room. She must have said something to the others before because nobody screams or runs away, the girls simply carry on with their make-up.
I hide behind the giant wardrobe on the left, Emilio by my side, as Dario takes the heat, putting our plan into action.
Nodding at Sasha, she checks in with the other girls—everyone is ready. On my signal, she starts wailing loudly, causing a massive commotion.
The other girls join in, screaming and shouting at Dario as the two guards come rushing in, guns drawn.
Before they can grab Dario, we jump from behind the wardrobe, overpowering them before they even have a chance to react.
Dario slaps some cable ties around their wrists and ankles, securing the guards in the fetal position on the floor. Their lips get taped to ensure their silence.
Emilio carefully ties up the girls, too, to make it look believable, absolving them from any blame. Danica made me promise, repeatedly, that the girls would come to no harm.
I have many flaws, but I am a man of my word.
There is no time to waste, though. The third guard, the one with the face tattoos, is already on his way down the stairs. I tackle him into the metal steps, jamming my knife into his stomach.
He growls, struggles, but can’t find enough leverage to throw me off him. Blood gushes from his stab wound, staining my shirt.
I wish I could shoot him, but I don’t want to alarm anyone else in the club. Not while Danica is in that creep’s office, alone, unprotected.
Kicking him in the face for good measure, I leave the bleeding guard to Dario to clean up and restrain. I need to find my Queen—ASAP.
Oh god, I hope she’s okay; that we’re not too late. That cunt must have heard the commotion by now…
Taking a deep breath, I barge into the room upstairs, preparing myself for the worst. Danica had left the door unlocked, as planned.
But my fears are in vain.
The big, scary Mister Volkov is whimpering in his chair, a knife to his balls.
Danica is standing over him, a smug look on her face. She blows me a kiss. “Hey, baby. About time.”
My heart leaps, relieved.
“What’s going on here?” Volkov asks, voice cracking. Despite the blindfold over his eyes, he looks around wildly, trying to figure out what’s happening.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands, Mister Tolya,” Danica says.
“Do you know who you’re fucking with? You’re making a huge mistake.” His tone changes to a threat, but his voice is no less uncertain. I can’t blame the man; even I’d count my words if someone had a knife to my nuts.
The club owner is tied up in his chair, no doubt part of Danica’s kinky play set-up. I’m sure he let her willingly, enjoying the idea of being tied by her.
Silly man, look at you now.
“Oh, we know exactly who you are. That’s why we’re here.” Danica increases the pressure of the knife, and the slimy man gasps for breath.
“Please, Jasmyne…”
“Jasmyne?” I raise an eyebrow, and Danica laughs.
“Yeah, my stage name. Do you like it?”
“So slutty.” I smile.
“Right?”
“Do you want money? I’ve got lots of money,” the pathetic man tries again.
“Shut up. Nobody’s talking to you.” Danica smacks him across the face. It’s such a turn-on to see her being this ruthless. “We don’t want your filthy money.”
“Anything. Take anything.” He’s begging now, desperate.
“Oh, we’re not just taking anything. We’re taking everything,” Danica laughs.
The sound of approaching footsteps grows louder as Emilio and Dario join us.
Dario stops in the doorframe, mouth agape, his unbreakable expression breaking as he takes in Danica’s blond figure, dressed like a complete slut, bent down over the poor man with the knife against his balls.
Emilio just smiles, unphased. He looks proud.
“Take him home. Put him in the basement. We’ll deal with him later,” I tell them, and Dario chucks the man over his shoulder like he’s as light as a feather. Not before Emilio adds some tape to his mouth.
“We’ll meet you there,” Danica tells them.
“What?” That was not part of the plan. We need to get out of here, right now.
But Danica has other ideas.
She closes the door behind them, turning the key in its lock.
“Tesoro, we have to go…” I start, unable to take my eyes off her. She looks incredible, so seductive in blonde.
“Hush. Now, don’t move.” She pins me down on the desk and grabs my belt, undoing it quickly, efficiently.
“We don’t have time,” my mouth says, but my body responds only by getting more erect, my cock desperate for her touch.
“I said hush.” Danica pulls my cock out and I gasp, loudly, ready to obey her every command.
“Yes, Ma’am.” The adrenaline surges through my veins.
“This is my desk now,” she says, despite the fact that neither of us will ever come back here again.
Danica pushes her hands under my shirt and drags her long nails over my chest, drawing blood as she cuts into my skin.
I hiss between my teeth, closing my eyes, as she rips open my shirt and licks the blood from my skin. Oh god, it’s the hottest thing in the world.
I do not dare tell her that, or anything else for that matter.
In this moment, I’m reduced to a mere object, my dick’s only function to bring her pleasure as she impales herself on me, fucking me on the Russian mobster’s desk until we’re both screaming profanities, climaxing together minutes later.
The power surging through Danica’s body is unmistakable as she brings herself to orgasm, taking me with her, riding me with vigor without bothering to take off my pants.
“You’re a fucking crazy woman,” I pant between rapid breaths, kissing her sweaty face as our post-climax bodies heave up and down together on the large wooden desk.
“Thank you, I love you too.” She kisses my nose and gets up, standing over me as my cum leaks out, dribbling down her leg.
Instantly, I sit up, shoving my face between her thighs to lick our spent orgasms from her skin.
"Hmm…Such a good boy," she coos, weaving her fingers through my hair, tugging just hard enough to make my scalp tingle as I clean her up.
This time, I get my reward.
Every last drop of it
When I’m done, I help her down, kissing her deeply when both feet are planted firmly on the floor. Her taste mingles with mine, and I can feel her smile against my lips.
"We finally have one of the Volkovs," I say when we finally break apart, tucking myself back into my pants, the taste of victory still sweet on my tongue. "And all thanks to you."
Danica's eyes flash with pride. "I told you I had a plan."
"Have I ever told you how fucking incredible you are?" My voice drops low, reverential.
"All the time," she says, tracing my jawline with her finger, "but you can tell me again."
When Danica looks up at me, her eyes gleam with that fierce intelligence that first drew me to her.
The same brilliance that got her into the Sinful Moon, that identified Tolya as our target, that orchestrated this perfect trap.
But her expression changes, grows serious suddenly.
"No one will even notice he's missing for a while.
Not with the girls at the club covering for us. "
"Perfect," I smirk, zipping up but not bothering with my belt yet. The adrenaline is still coursing through me, making my movements jerky, impatient. "From what you've told me about him, he'll break easily."
Danica pulls her skirt down, but her movements are slow, thoughtful. "Oh, he will. That man is all hedonism and no backbone. And definitely not much brains." She smiles, something dangerous in it that makes my blood run hotter.
"And we'll use everything he gives us," I say, moving toward her and cupping her face between my palms. "Dismantle the Volkovs piece by piece, one Russian asshole at a time."
She leans into my touch, her eyes now alight with possibility. "They’re all going down."
"The whole operation," I agree as I stroke my thumb across her cheekbone, wiping away a smudge of makeup that survived our encounter.
The office is quiet now, just the sound of our breathing and the distant thump of bass from the club below. The desk is still in disarray from our impromptu celebration, papers scattered across the floor like confetti.
“Nobody will see us coming."
"That's the point." I pull her closer, our foreheads touching. The scent of her—sweat and perfume and arousal—anchors me in this moment of possibility.
Her eyes search mine, understanding dawning. "So, what now?"
My heart hammers against my ribs, but my decision is already made. "Well, I'm calling Alessio as soon as we get home," I say with conviction. "I believe I promised you a wedding."
"We don't have to—" she starts, but I cut her off, drawing her fully into my arms.
"I want to, Tesoro. You deserve it," I murmur against her hair. "You deserve the world."
She melts against me for a moment, then pulls back. "But the Volkovs—"
"We’ll get them," I reassure her as I tuck a strand of fake blonde hair behind her ear. "Besides, I need an excuse to go see Alessio, don’t you?"
She smiles at the mention of his name, a private smile that makes me grateful, not for the first time, that we found someone who fits so perfectly with both of us. Someone who loves her as fiercely as I do.
"Let’s do it," Danica says finally, taking my face between her hands, her eyes holding mine in that way that still makes my breath catch. She brushes her lips against mine, gentle now after our earlier frenzy. In that kiss, the entire world shifts, rights itself again.
I squeeze her tight, unwilling to let go.
Her smile grows wider, and I can feel her heartbeat quicken against my chest—a rhythm that has become as familiar to me as my own.
As Danica takes my hand and we leave this shitty club, the cool night air hits us like a blessing. My mind is already plotting our next moves…
Because I am done waiting, done denying Danica the new chapter we both so badly want, badly need. Done letting these Russian bastards dictate our lives.
This time, nobody will stop us.
Nobody.