2. Carlo
Carlo
C rystal snowflakes catch the lights of Club Curve, sending prisms dancing across the walls. I scan the room from my usual spot near the VIP section, taking in the massive Christmas tree dripping with silver and gold in the corner. Even on Christmas Eve, business doesn't stop. But for once, that thought doesn't sit right. Maybe because tonight feels different. Watching Nicos marry Char, seeing my cousin finally plant roots after years of global expansion... it's stirred something restless in my soul.
My gaze sweeps each corner, each shadow. Old habits. Even on a good night, I can't turn off the part of my brain that's always watching, always calculating. That's how you survive when you're trying to overcome your father's legacy of betrayal and earn your place in the Family. Being born a Gataki meant nothing when your father was the family's biggest disappointment. Every ounce of trust, every promotion, I earned through loyalty and calculated brutality.
"You good, boss?" My brother Mic appears at my shoulder. He's the steadiest of my siblings, the one who followed me into the family business without question. Two more of my brothers joined after him—all of us built like tanks, all of us raised alongside the other young Gatakis. We had to fight twice as hard to prove ourselves worthy of the name we shared with the Family but didn't truly belong to.
"I'm good." I roll my tension-tight shoulders. "Tell everyone Nicos appreciated their hard work tonight. They'll find a nice bonus in their cut. Mr. Gataki thanks them for making his night go smoothly."
The Chicago club is mine now—Nicos's wedding gift to me after years of following him around the world, helping build his empire of exclusive nightclubs. For the first time, I have something that's truly mine to shape, to build. My attention shifts to the entrance, and my pulse kicks up. Olivia. She came. The photographer who dared stand up to me, who makes me want things I've never allowed myself to consider.
But before she can make her way across the floor, some suit-wearing pretty boy steps into her path. I watch his practiced smile, the way he leans in too close against the backdrop of twinkling lights. My jaw clenches when he pulls out a business card, all smooth gestures and well-rehearsed charm.
Mic catches my expression and chuckles. "Easy, brother. Your eyes are going to burn a hole through that poor bastard's skull."
"He touches her, he loses the hand." The words come out as a growl.
"Damn." Mic's eyebrows shoot up. "This one's different, isn't she? Never seen you like this over a woman."
He's right. I've spent my life being the enforcer, the one who handles problems, the one who carved out respect for our branch of the family tree after our father nearly destroyed it. Romance wasn't part of the plan. Then Olivia walked into that pre-wedding meeting, all fire and determination, and something inside me shifted.
Some women attend church on Christmas Eve. Others wrap last-minute presents or sing carols with their families. But Olivia—she shows up at my club, fierce and independent, making every Christmas light dim in comparison. She's freed her hair from that severe bun, dark waves cascading past her shoulders. Even in her simple black dress—probably the only one she packed—she outshines every other woman in the room. Not because she's trying, but because she isn't. When she finally extracts herself from pretty boy and spots me, her hand lifts in an uncertain wave before she catches herself, teeth pulling at her bottom lip.
That gesture hits me in the gut. I'm used to being feared, respected. Used to being the hardest bastard in any room. But watching her, I want to be gentle. My youngest brother Jake—Father Jake now, the family saint who chose collar and cross over Family business—told me once that I needed my own family, not just the one I serve. I'd laughed it off. But seeing Olivia sass me in that first meeting, watching her now... Jake's words won't leave me alone.
"You should see your face right now," Mic says, amusement coloring his voice. "You look like someone just handed you the keys to the kingdom."
"They did. This club is mine now."
"I meant her, you idiot." He follows my gaze. "Though I guess you're right—you're getting everything you want for Christmas this year. The club, the girl—"
"She's not a gift, Mic." The words come out sharper than intended. "She's... different."
My mother drank herself to death waiting for my father to come home from "Family business." My brothers and I basically raised ourselves while she drowned her fears in vodka and he warmed other women's beds. I swore I'd never put a woman through that life. But Olivia... she's different. Strong. Independent. She has her own life, her own passion. When our eyes lock across the room, there's no fear in her gaze, just challenge.
"Speaking of her standing up to you," Mic says, "you do realize she's probably going to fight you on this whole 'she's mine' thing, right? She strikes me as the type who doesn't appreciate being claimed."
"Good." The word rumbles in my chest. "I don't want someone who rolls over easy. Look at Nicos and Char—she challenges him, makes him better. That's what I want. Someone who'll build with me, not just stand in my shadow."
Watching her navigate through the crowd, I see it in her eyes—that same hunger that drives me. The determination to build something lasting, something that's entirely her own. I recognize that fire because it mirrors mine. She didn't hesitate to challenge me during the wedding, putting her art before fear. That's the kind of passion that sets people apart, makes them rise above the rest.
Mic whistles low. "Father Jake's going to love this. He's been praying for years that one of us would find a nice girl and settle down."
"There's nothing 'nice' about her," I say, watching Olivia's confident stride. "She's ambitious, driven. Look at how she handled that wedding tonight—navigating family politics like she was born to it, catching every important moment without getting in the way. She's got the instincts for this life."
"You mean she's perfect for a Gataki?" Mic's tone turns serious. "You know what that means, Carlo. The responsibility, the risks—"
"I know exactly what it means." My voice drops to a dangerous register. "Why do you think I've stayed away from serious relationships? But she's different. She's got her own empire to build. She understands ambition, dedication." I pause, watching her get stopped by another admirer. My fingers flex involuntarily. "And she's strong enough to handle the truth about who we are."
"If she accepts it," Mic reminds me. "That's a big if, brother."
"Everything worth having is a risk." The Christmas lights cast patterns across Olivia's face as she gets closer, and something in my chest tightens. "But for the first time in my life, I'm ready to take that chance. Ready to build something that's about more than just business."
Mic claps me on the shoulder. "Well, then. Merry Christmas, brother. I'll make sure you two aren't disturbed." He melts away into the crowd, leaving me alone as Olivia finally reaches me.
Up close, her eyes reflect the twinkling lights like stars in a midnight sky. They hold mine with that perfect mix of challenge and attraction that's been driving me crazy since the moment we met. For the first time in years, I feel something like hope stirring in my chest.
This Christmas Eve feels like a beginning.
***
A server appears at her side the moment she reaches me, offering her a glass of aged bourbon, neat. Her eyebrow arches as she accepts it.
"That's presumptuous," she says, studying the amber liquid. "You don't know what I like."
"That's only because you wouldn't give me a chance to find out." I let my gaze drift over her face, watching the Christmas lights paint shadows across her cheekbones.
She takes a deliberate sip, her eyes never leaving mine. "Is that what we're doing here? Getting to know each other?" Her lips curve into a dangerous smile. "Because I assumed we were both just here to work out this... attraction in a convenient, no-strings-attached way."
The words hit like bullets, but I keep my face neutral. Years of negotiation come in handy sometimes. "Is that really all you want, Olivia?"
"Yes." Another bullet. She takes another sip. "That's all I can handle right now."
"Why?"
"Because my business has to come first." She says it like it's obvious, like it's the only answer that makes sense. "I've worked too hard to let anything—or anyone—derail me now."
"Not good enough." The words come out low, dangerous.
Her eyebrows shoot up, and those midnight eyes flash with anger before she rolls them. "Great. Another man who can't handle a woman with ambition. Been there, done that. Wasn't worth it." She turns away, dismissing me like I'm just another suit trying to clip her wings.
Interesting. There's a story there, but it'll keep for another day. I catch her chin, turning her face back to mine. Stepping into her space—God, I love how her whole body comes alive when I'm close—I say, "I have no problem with your career. In fact, I'm glad you have one. My business takes me far and wide, and I want you to stay busy while I'm gone. Otherwise, you might get into trouble."
Her red lips form a perfect "O", and my dick rises responding instinctively to the invitation. "You're joking," she finally decides.
"Am I?" I lean closer, breathing in her scent. "Good thing we'll never have to find out." I picture my mother using alcohol to deal with the loneliness and dread settles so deep in my gut I’m forced to warn her. “No matter how lightly you think this is, you will not touch another man after I make you mine. When it ends, you’re free. But until then, I only have one rule, and that’s it.”
“And will you follow the same?”
“Of course.”
“So, you’ve never cheated on a lover?”
“Never. But if you’re asking, have I always had only one woman at a time? The answer is no.”
Olivia huffs and rolls her eyes again. This eye-rolling thing is new for me—but I like it. “Figures.”
I like the sass, too. It is unexpected and surprising. When had I become so insulated? I continue as if she hasn’t interrupted. “The women I sleep with know about and accept the others. They aren’t looking for anything other than fun times.”
“And I’m not?”
“If you were, we’d already be in my bed.”
“You’re wrong.” With two simple words, she shocks me again. “I’m coming off two long, stressful months. Months, which nearly ruined my business. Now it’s Christmas Eve, and there’s nothing waiting in my stocking except coal. I’m tired, stressed and overwhelmed. All I need right now is a safe person to make me forget my troubles.” She shrugs her shoulders, and I fight to keep my eyes glued to her face and not her breasts. “I know that makes me sound like—”
I press my fingers against her lips. “—sounds human. I don’t think anything more than that. I don’t judge you or find fault with you for being a woman needing a man. Not as long as I’m the man you need. ‘Cause baby, you’ve never been safer.”
I press a kiss to her forehead. The need to claim her as mine claws at my belly like a rabid beast. I could fuck her right now and satisfy my immediate need. But the moment my dick goes inside her, she’s mine. And I can’t do that until she understands that I am serious. She is mine.
Her wide brown eyes dig into mine. Before she finally nods at some question in her mind. I exhale a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. “So, what do we do now?” She asks, her brows wrinkling slightly as she bites on her lip again.
“Now, we dance, we drink and get merry. You’re in Club Curve, and all troubles are left at the door.” She raises a brow and gives me a quick grin. “It’s club policy. You didn’t see the sign on the door?”
Laughing, she shakes her head. “There is no sign.”
I cup the side of her face before giving her a quick kiss on the lips. “Well, there should be. It’s Christmas Eve, and I think I can do better than coal. If you’ll give me a chance?”
Olivia’s lashes sweep down before she squeezes my free hand and says, “Yes.”
I wonder if she knows how much she is agreeing to. If she doesn’t, she’ll find out when I never let her go. Taking her hand, I lead her to the dance floor. We ignore the throbbing, pulsating rhythm. Instead, we sway, our bodies moving in sync as we lean into each other. Her curves melt into my hard angles. I could stay in that hypnotic dance trance forever, with her vanilla and chocolate scent drugging me. But she breaks the spell when she leans back, her long hair falling over my arm, and whispers, “Let’s go.”
“Go? Where?” I am not confused. But I want her to be clear.
“Your place. You said you live in the Sindicate Towers, right?”
I nod, then open my mouth to ask again what she wants. When I look at her face, the sultry heat in her eyes has my dick stiffening in seconds. Fuck, she knows exactly what she wants. Merry Christmas to me. It is the same thing I want.
“Let’s go,” I say, leading her away from the dance floor.
Olivia takes a last look at the dance floor before following me out of Club Curve. When we get into the elevator, she tugs my hand. I glance down, and she whispers, “You know what I need most right now? I need someone to take control. I’m so tired of being responsible for every damn thing. I want someone who will tell me what to do and how to do it. Someone who will give me an order and frees me to obey it.”
Fuck. My dick grows so hard, so fast, it hurts. I need to get her to my place.
“Is that so?” I ask.
Olivia nods, her eyes wide and searching mine. I cup her chin and bring her lips close to mine. “Tell me your safe word.”
“Don’t need one. Safe words give me the power to stop this. I have no intention of stopping. You said I’m safe. I believe you. It’s crazy, but I do.”
I search her eyes, looking for any hint that she might be drunk. She is completely sober. I give her a quick kiss and whisper, “Very well. But if I say something is not happening, it’s not happening. Understand?”
She nods. “Yes.”
My dick jerks. I love hearing that word come out of her mouth. I already know I’ll demand to hear it often. “Good. The rules are simple. You obey me, and you’ll be rewarded. Disobey me, and you’ll be punished. Are you ready?”
She bites her lip before saying, “Yes.”
Fuck me. “Good. First, I’ll have you naked. Then, I’ll have you on your knees, with my dick down your throat. Then, I’ll bend you over and fuck you. We’ll start with those three things and add more later.”
“Later?” She whispers.
I nod. “I can’t get enough of you. I may never be able to. That’s why you’re mine. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
I drop another kiss on her lips before whispering, “Good. Now, take off your panties and hand them to me. After that, walk to my place without them. I want you bare under that dress.”
Olivia blushes before pulling up her hem, revealing her scarlet lace panties. She shimmies them off and hands them to me. I bring them to my nose and inhale deeply before shoving them into my pocket.
“Good girl. Now, walk to my door with your dress up. Show me how wet you are.”
She catches her lip between her teeth, but I fish it back out with a reprimand, “Uh uh. These are mine now. No more abusing them.” She still hesitates. She doesn’t know me well enough to know I’d never give another person a chance to look at her ass. I could tell her not to worry, and that this is my private floor. But part of me is pissed that she hasn’t caught up to me, yet. She thinks this is a cheap one-night-stand. She’s made me into a cheap fling. I reel in the anger. I learned from my parents how much hurt people, hurt people . I don’t want to hurt her but just the same I demand. “Hike your dress up, now,” I say gruffly. “Don’t waste my time, if you don’t want this.”
Olivia blushes before complying. When we get to my door, she leans back against the wall, and I kiss her hard. I hold the sides of her face and pour everything I feel into my kiss. I want her to know she is special, that I appreciate her and value her. When I pull back, Olivia has tears in her eyes. “I’ve never done this before,” she admits.
My heart skips a beat. I want to be her first, but not her first everything. “Kissed a man?”
“No,” she laughs and shakes her head. “I meant I’ve never given control to someone else like this.”
I smile and whisper, “I know.” I open the door and say, “Let’s start our Christmas celebration.”
“Yes, Carlo, yes.”
I slide my hands around her waist and pull her inside.