3. Gabriella
3
Gabriella
I ’m not sure what to expect, but it certainly isn’t this.
A striking, beautiful woman stands center stage. She’s wearing only a white satin slip with thin spaghetti strips and a blindfold over her eyes. Although she may as well be wearing nothing. The material barely covers her rear, and her nipples stand out like twin headlights against the fabric while her jet-black hair falls like a straight curtain around her pale shoulders.
A trio of masked men circle her with slow intention, like a pack of predators would their prey.?One man, wearing a red skull with horns, reaches out and runs the back of his fingers down her bare arm. The girl gasps, her head moving in the direction of his touch before another man, this one wearing a gold skull with black lacing, does the same on her other arm. She twists toward him this time before the third man, wearing an all-black mask, steps forward from behind. He wraps his arm around her and grips her neck before he draws her back into his bare chest.
No one talks or gives direction to one another. They don’t need it. They move as one. Acting off each other’s motions with ease, like they’re communicating silently. It's truly mesmerizing to see how removing one sense enhances the intimacy and intensity of the other four. They control her pleasure. They know what she needs and how much. To surrender that level of trust to a man or in this woman’s case, three men, is captivating.
They strip her of her dress slowly, each strap slipping off her shoulder until finally gravity pulls it to the floor in a puddle. A naked woman’s body is nothing new to me, but it’s one thing to study it in class and another thing to see it worshiped in a different way entirely.
“Do you like what you see, little girl?” a voice says behind me.
I glance over my shoulder to find an older man standing close enough I can smell the alcohol on his breath. It’s an overwhelming stench, and I subconsciously shift away to seek fresh air.
“Excuse me?” It’s a stupid question but all I can think to say at the moment.
“The show,” he repeats. “Do you like it?”
My eyes frantically search the room for a familiar face, only to remember that I had come to the back room alone. I still don’t know why I did, but it certainly wasn’t for this conversation.
“It’s good.” Short and sweet and to the point.
“Just good?” He laughs, but it came out more like a snort. “I’m sure our host would love to hear that.”
He means Dimitri. An image of the Russian captain flashes in my mind, and I feel myself flush at the thought—surely a consequence of the show’s atmosphere. The man though mistakenly believes my blush is for him, and quickly grabs my arm, refusing to let go. “You know, they usually pick a few guests from the crowd to join the show at the end.” So I’ve been told. I pull against his hold. “I could put in a good word with Mr. Volkov,” the man continues, ignoring my attempt to break free of his grasp. “We could join them.”
“No, thank you.” This time, I place my free hand over his to try and pry my arm free. “I’d like to go find my friends now.”
“They can join us, too.”
“Again, thank you for the offer, but I’ll pass.” I dig my nails into the fatty flesh on the back of the hand, hoping a little pain will get my meaning across. My manners are slipping along with my patience.
“Oh, you like it rough, huh?” he says with excitement instead. “We can play rough.”
“Let me go. Right now.”
The man steps into my space, twisting my arm in his hold as he does. The pain is instant, and I hiss through my bared teeth.
“I believe the lady said no, Boris.” A new deep voice cuts in, even and sure.
I turn and freeze, coming face to face with the host himself. Dimitri Volkov stands with his hands slipped into the pockets of his pants. He’s tall enough to tower over us, forcing me to look up at him. For a quick moment, his ice-blue eyes snare mine, and I see a strange emotion in them. Like concern or something close to it, but it’s gone in a blink before I can really identify it.
He drops his eyes to where the man, whose name I now know is Boris, grips my arm in his fist. “What is the one rule at the Playground ?” the Russian captain asks, his voice as cold and sharp as the ice his eyes resemble.
Boris visibly swallows, his face suddenly a nasty shade of gray in the low light. “That anything goes, but everything is consensual.”
“And does this look consensual?”
“No, Mr. Volkov.”
“So then, why do you still have Ms. DiAngelo’s arm in your hand?”
Like my skin is suddenly on fire, Boris drops my arm. I instantly take a giant step back and unintentionally bump right into a solid back of muscle. Dimitri’s arm immediately finds my hip to steady me. His touch burns deliciously through my dress, like a warm blanket on a chilly winter’s night. But then, his touch slips away and I’m left cold, craving more.
“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Volkov, sir,” Boris stammers, bowing his head repeatedly like it’s on a bobble.
I can only stand and stare at the bumbling idiot, my wrist throbbing in pain as I cradle it at my chest. Behind me, Dimitri speaks Russian to someone, and my eyes shift to another tall dark-haired Russian with tattoos and a ring piercing his brow. He catches my eyes as he talks back in his native tongue to Dimitri and winks. With a chilling shift in tone, Dimitri’s words become coated in ice, prompting the stranger to roll his eyes briefly before resuming their conversation and leaving me alone.
Dimitri’s hand returns to my body, this time to the lower part of my back, and I can’t help but push back into his touch. “Would you follow me, Ms. DiAngelo, so that I can tend to your arm?”
I glance between my wrist and his expecting face and tell him, “Oh, no, it’s okay. I’m fine, really.”
“Do not lie to me, Gabriella.” The way he says my name in an authoritative and firm tone sends a chill down my spine and I shiver. Dimitri must feel it, because his fingers flex against my back.
“Okay, fine, yes, it stings a little.”
A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as his eyes flash in victory. “This way.” He gestures?like some kind of gentleman, and I follow his lead, leaving Boris and the other man behind. Dimitri shows me up a flight of stairs and into an office. “Please. Sit.” He points to an oversize chair before disappearing through a door.
I peer around the space. It’s large and open, with minimalist decor and style and sleek furniture in shades of gray and black. The only hint of color is the white orchid sitting alone on a glass table to the side. It smells nice of sandalwood and some kind of other spice, too. When Dimitri returns with a first aid kit and kneels before me, the air rushes around us, bringing the smell directly to me. It’s him. The enticing scent is his, and I have to fight the urge to lean closer.
“This is your office?”
“It is,” Dimitri confirms. “How very observant of you, Ms. DiAngelo.”
“You know who I am?” Of course he does. He’s said it three times already. It’s just now I’m paying better attention.
“Yes.” He holds his hand out expectantly, and I give him my arm.
I watch him examine the red mark, both of us silent while he does. His touch is gentle but confident. He grabs one of those ice packs you break and shake apart. He holds it to my wrist, the cold already activating and soothing the burn. “Keep this on until you get home.”
“But I’m not going home for a little while.” He raises a single brow in silent question. “My friends are here and I’m their designated driver tonight.” God, saying it aloud sounds even more lame.
“I’ll have them delivered home safe and sound.”
“But—”
“No buts, Gabriella.”
“But—”
Dimitri, still on his knees in front of me, suddenly leans forward, moving directly into my space. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, not from fear, but from lust. I swallow and his eyes flick down to my throat, catching the movement. When our eyes meet again, his blue reflect the same fire burning in me.?
What the hell is happening here? It has to be because of the show. Yes, that’s it. The show. It turned me on and now I’m horny and ready to jump the bones of the first handsome man I find. That man just so happens to be Dimitri. A man my family is allies with when it comes to business, but also the last man my brothers care for. If I thought being in this club would start a war, I can only imagine what sleeping with Dimitri will do.
“Listen to me very carefully, Gabriella. I don’t know what you were hoping to find here tonight or why you’re even here to begin with. But you must never come here again. This is not the place for an innocent angel like you. Do you understand me?”
“Who says I’m an innocent angel?” I whisper, latching on to the only part I care about.
“Because I’m the devil, and even I was an angel once.”