Chapter One
The Enemy Of My Enemy Is My Friend
Rafe
I sit in a chair in my father’s club, my arm around a pretty girl’s shoulder. The collar at her neck displays more ownership than the matching ring on her finger. Both were put there by force. Neither are worn without consent.
Most of the time. The corner of my mouth works up. Willow would add her own narrative to that, but as I stroke her back beneath her silky raven black hair, her presence soothes me.
Bad shit has always happened in this club, the beginning and the end of so many of my stories.
My melancholy can’t be lifted by my wife’s company alone, but she calls to my beast who settles, seething still, but residing quietly inside me.
Cyprus is officially my territory, my father’s passing leaving all the entire Gallo Empire in my hands as Don.
A mantle I was born to shoulder, even if I never coveted the power like so many others I knew. Like Konnor. And tonight’s meeting with my lieutenants was pathetic. All the ass kissing you could ever want, all the glances and twisted smiles. The promise of everything and nothing all at once.
Bullshit, lies, and death.
My father’s club stinks of it. That, and sex.
The next meeting needs to flow smoothly else this club will know more blood than my father ever flooded it with.
My last two visits to this place, once when I met my wife, and once with Dom when I thought at the time I had cemented my relationship with my best friend.
One worked, one fucked up.
Third time’s the charm.
Perhaps tonight will be ... different.
Tonight, we will set down house rules in our own style.
For the first time I sit in my father’s club without my best man by my side.
Dom stayed with Thalia in Rhode Island, managing his own demons.
I hope to fuck I have a house that isn’t blown to shit before we return home from this trip, though Cyprus’ landscape is undermined with its own mortal dangers.
That’s what this life is. Willow leans into my shoulder, snuggling gently in the slinky, turquoise sequin beaded dress that leaves her sinuous curves and slivers of bared flesh beneath flickering and flashing with the smallest movement.
“You can’t drop it, can you?”
I curve my fingers in her hair, rubbing into the scalp, and she lets out a small, but appreciative moan.
“As beautiful as the day I met you here. No regrets, Willow. Not one.” I finger the platinum collar I clamped around her neck the day we married.
That she’s never asked me for the key swells an obsolete organ in my chest. I shake my head, staring down at her into those forest green eyes that threaten to unman me.
“Tonight has been difficult, and I won’t be gentle with you,” I warn her softly.
Willow’s head tips back, exposing the pale column of her throat to me.
My cock thickens rapidly, and I force my breaths to be even.
“But I promised you a present. Are you ready for that?”
She pants a little, her lips parting in a way that makes me want to use her in front of everyone. “Here?” Her eyes widen with a dual shot of arousal and fear. “Rafe?”
Her gaze flickers around the room, and I know what she’s thinking.
Our first encounter here was a one-night stand before I knew she was my forced intended.
The second night I shared her with Dom.
Of the people in this room, there is only one person I trust her with. Her eyes light on him and the soft breath that leaves her lips may as well have slipped over my cock for how hard I am instantly as she presses tight against me.
“Are you saying no, my Raven?” I nuzzle her throat for the pure pleasure of earning her shiver that ripples violently over my body.
Her hands flex on my suit jacket, the pressure on my forearms a secondary pleasure. Her head shakes as she tilts her heart-shaped face up to mine. Sweet breath caresses my lips, but I don’t kiss her, despite her silent offer.
“Please,” she whispers, and I’m not sure if she’s talking to herself or to me.
That’s okay. She will soon.
I subtly grind her body against mine as I comb my fingers through her black silky hair, gesturing to the silhouette lingering beyond the shadow.
A dangerous smile lights his face as I cant my head towards one of the private rooms I booked for tonight’s private party. And the not so private one after.
His smile sharpens as he runs his eyes over Willow and holds out his hand.
Though I know my wife is filled with nerves rioting through her body, she stands with all the grace and certainty of a Don’s wife, and all the doubt of the eighteen-year-old girl she was when I fucked her in this club the first time, a year ago.
I wind my fingers through her other hand.
The sparsely populated VIP room above the main dance floor below is silent as she clings to both of us, already settling in to giving herself over to what we want tonight, what we will gladly give her.
Any other time she’d fight me, claw at my skin until I broke for both of us, but when we’re here ... she hands control to me with no questions. I’ll fucking worship her for that gift.
“Good girl,” I murmur, gesturing to the darkened doorway of tonight’s playdate location.
Her fingers press into the back of my hand, but she hasn’t deployed her nails yet.
That will come, too. I smile into the darkness, not flicking on the lights, leaving the place shrouded.
She likes the sensory deprivation, reacts to it so beautifully.
I inhale the tantalizing scent of her fear that drives me.
This time will be different. She’s played with our third tentatively at other times, but Luca is different from anyone she’s experienced before.
His eyes glitter as he stares at her, almost obsessively drinking her in.
I appreciate the moment, recognizing that feeling all too well.
Withdrawing a monogrammed handkerchief from my pocket that Willow bought for me a few weeks ago, I flip the silk as she watches and raise it to her eyes.
Her lashes flutter closed as she drops into a submissive headspace, knowing instinctively what I need from her.
Smiling, I shut out the last fraction of light, draping the material softly across her eyes and tying the black and red silk around the back of her head, careful not to catch her hair.
I tuck a wayward strand over her shoulder, smoothing the long strands down to her ass without touching any other part of her.
Then I step back.
Willow’s chest rises quickly, her fingers trembling visibly at her sides, though she manages not to move, and I smile my appreciation of her efforts, though she can’t see it.
We practiced this part, wanting to give her the most incredible experience we could.
Because like Dom, and most of my men who understandably lusted after my wife, Luca also has a lot of love for her.
Paired with that respect and the need to serve, I knew he was a good play partner for our trip.
Even though he’s a dominant himself, Luca desires to please her, dote on her. Worship her.
That seems an acceptable trade to me. He will give her what we both need.
He circles her, flashes emanating from his wrist as he slides several blades from their sheathes into his hand. One twirls expertly in his hand, though he looks to me for acceptance–not so much permission–before he raises the deadly edge toward her.
The first thing she’ll feel is the tip of his blade gliding lightly across her skin. Not hard enough to mark, just enough to show her how the night will proceed.
Fear ripples over her, her breathing fast then slow as she tries to control the mindfuck.
Between Luca and me, she’s shit out of luck.
“Thank you for letting me play with your beautiful body and mind, little raven,” he twists my pet name for her mockingly, melding praise and humiliation like a pro. “Stand still. I don’t want to ... slip.”
I raise an eyebrow, but my attention stays on her skin. A single drop of blood and my chef will find out just how deadly his blades are when they’re buried hilt deep in his own flesh. But Luca knows his craft, helped teach her how to flay her first man. His hand won’t slip.
He smiles, his lips grazing her ear as he slices through the material, baring her body in seconds. Her sharp inhale is the only sound in the room as he steps back, devouring her with his eyes alone.
I share the moment with him, tracing over her breasts and her hard, pebbled nipples with my eyes alone.
The scent of her need permeates the air, bringing the room to a stop.
Swallowing hard, I lean back against the huge floor-to-ceiling glass window that overlooks the entire club.
If I flick the lights on now, every soul present will see the show that’s just started, but not .
.. yet. Tonight is for her, and this is a private showing only for us.
Again, her fingers tense, shifting slightly at her sides, but Willow knows better than to cross her arms over her body, knowing that trying to hide herself will only earn her a list of corrections that I’ll dish out as punishments later.
The room is extra cold thanks to the air conditioning that has been running for the past hour.
My breath frosts lightly to the lowered setting that will add to her discomfort in this teasing stage, knowing we will heat the room with the warmth and frenzy of three bodies shortly.
Usually a bed occupies the middle of the room, but this time a desk sits at the back, an oversized ornate birdcage by its side, sprayed gold.
A pink blanket rests in its base. Luxurious and perfect.
The only utilitarian part of the entire display is a heavy link chain that currently dangles along its side.