Chapter Three
Adriano
Capri was like an obsession waiting to happen—to consume me and seize me in a chokehold. I knew it the night I laid eyes on her when I broke into her apartment after she saw me murder Leonardo.
I knew it from the moment those dead dark eyes landed on me, when they came alive, choking on my cock. She was my undoing personified.
Her aura was soft, haunting, and seductive.
“Who was the man from the other night?” Her thick dark lashes flutter as she gazes up at me when I shut the car door.
She looks flustered and a little scared, maybe. It was so fucking adorable.
“You mean the man I killed?” My voice is low and teasing. Her makeup conceals her furious blush, but I can tell how reluctant she is to say the word by how she slowly bites her lip and looks away.
“Yeah...”
I lean into her, pressing her frame against the door, so she’s trapped between me and the door. Her silky golden dress wraps around her slim-thick frame like a second skin. The vibrant color flatters her skin just as much as her bold red lipstick. She looks so fucking hot, it makes my dick hard.
“That was Leonardo.” I hike her leg through the dangerous slit of her dress, high enough so it wraps around me and makes her close enough to feel what she’s doing to me.
“He used to be a member of the family until he betrayed the Don by trading some of the family’s secrets.
He had to die.” I grind my hard-on against her clothed pussy.
Her eyes flutter as she moans. “Don, as in?”
“I’m with the Italian Mafia.” Her body freezes as she looks up at me. I had a gun. I shot a man in a dark alley—killed him in cold blood and didn’t bat an eye. Who was she expecting me to be? Santa?
“Scared?” I asked in a gruff voice.
She slowly shakes her head, biting her lip. “Not really. Call me crazy, but I don’t think you’ll ever hurt me.”
She’s right. I won’t hurt her. I can’t bring myself to do that. But what I’m most scared of is what I’m capable of doing to her.
“Come on, let’s head in.”
My grip around her loosens, giving her the chance to step away. My body whines at the loss of body heat. Her dark goddess braids swish softly as she walks forward.
“Where is here exactly?” she asks, curious, staring at the neon sign that reads, Sin.
“You’ll see,” I smirk, wrapping my arm around her slender waist and leading us toward the club.
The bouncer at the door quickly opens it, nodding his greetings.
I don’t respond—I don’t have to. The music grows louder.
I never liked loud music. I never liked anything.
Well ... except her. Her body tenses as we walk in.
More men are standing behind the door, all dressed in black with their guns poking out of their shirts.
I gently rub my thumb over the curve of her back and feel her ease up.
The club is a haven of red lights, with walls painted in graffiti.
A couple of bouncers are stationed at various points in the club.
Of course, not all of them are there for security—some are just there to supply the junkies with drugs.
I see Capri swallow, with disappointment splashed across her face in colors her canvas hasn’t seen in a while. Colors that I’m going to bring back into her life.
“I’m not really a fan of—”
“The crowd?” I cut her off before she can finish her sentence. I don’t like crowded spaces either. Something about the smell of sweat and bodies touching mine irks me. “We’re not staying here.”
This part of the club is for the lowlifes. People who can’t tell what time of day it is and whose only concern is their next high. Now and then, someone dies, and their bodies are dumped somewhere—anywhere else but here, obviously.
I gently nudge Capri toward a red door at the other side of the club.
Two bouncers are stationed there to keep the lowlifes out.
Only a few are privileged to make it through this door—the few with money to burn and a reputation to protect—celebrities, politicians .
.. people with fantasies the public just might criticize them for.
Of course, they prefer to come through the other entrance, which poses little risk of exposure.
We make it through the door and into a narrow passageway with pristine walls.
The door is soundproof and immediately shuts out the loud music, which is replaced by a different kind of music.
Music born out of the satisfaction of the deepest and dirtiest part of human desire.
Capri spares me a glance. The passageway leads to a large collection of rooms, bordered by flimsy silk curtains the color of blood.
The moans and grunts are louder now—a cacophony of filth.
There are litters of people here, all nude, even the bouncers.
There are rare occasions when they need to step in to protect the sex workers.
They’re our property after all. However, in most cases, they’re here to please our clients in any way they deem fit.
A man with his cock hanging free walks toward us.
I watch Capri’s eyes linger on his cock for a moment before she averts them.
Her cheeks turn red. If I hadn’t had my cock down her throat a few days back, I’d have thought she’d never seen one before.
“I prepared your room like you asked,” the man says. I nod. “Follow me.”
He leads us to a more private room. The only one with a door. My room. Capri looks at me again. She hasn’t spoken a word since we got here, and I have no idea if it’s out of awe or fear.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.” My voice comes out gruff.
Reassuring people isn’t my forte. I usually use other means to ensure compliance.
She nods sheepishly and lets me lead her into the room.
I shut the door behind us. She turns around abruptly as she hears the lock click.
I can still see strands of fear lingering in her eyes, and I just can’t fathom why she’d be scared of me. Does she think I’d hurt her? I’d never.
Her eyes move from me and become glued to the wall.
The walls looked like something peeled off a gladiator’s arsenal.
Various weapons hung from them, not the kind to kill, maim, or scare.
Maybe they did scare some. Perhaps they could leave little scars or marks—marks that only my prized possessions get to have.
Maybe they’d cause a little pain, but that will only bring pleasure.
I walk closer to Capri and grab a fistful of her hair, sniffing it. She doesn’t smell like the majority of the sluts who frequent this place. She smells innocent, almost divine. When I’m done with her, she’ll have forgotten this madness of wanting death. She’ll only want me.
“I’m not going to hurt you if that’s what you’re scared of,” I whisper.
“What makes you think I’m scared?” I let her hair slip through my fingers as she turns around and looks me dead in the eyes.
Brave. No one ever dared to do that. It could be the action that determines whether they still drew breath in the next few seconds, but I suppose she isn’t scared of death or me. Is that what draws me to her? Or is it the intense desire to free her from the shackles of pain?
I place a curled index finger under her chin and tilt it up. Her skin is so soft, and her eyes ... these damn pearls staring defiantly at me, begging me to rid her of her lingering piece of innocence.
“It’d be wise for you to fear me.”
“Nonsense.” She draws the last sound into a seductive hiss, as if daring me to do my worst or best. My hold on her quickly moves from a finger under her chin to a grip on her neck, as I gently choke her.
Her gaze doesn’t falter even as she walks backward, until her butt hits the leather bench perched at one side of the room.
I tighten my grip around her neck, squeezing until her face turns red and her slender fingers dig into my wrist. I let go of her neck and watch her as she gasps for breath.
“You should fear me.” This time, she’s too busy gasping for air to bother with a witty response.
She coughs, still struggling to fill her lungs with air.
“Strip,” I command. If I thought her face was red earlier, I might have been colorblind.
Her hands spring up to her chest, as if to protect herself.
One would think she wasn’t the same girl relishing the feel of my cock in her mouth a few days ago, with eyes pleading for me to come inside her mouth.
“I won’t repeat myself. Strip,” I say in my practiced low voice, which usually gets my men stumbling over their feet.
“Did no one ever tell you that you can’t always get what you want?
” she says defiantly, as if fighting for control.
I do like a little resistance, but this has been dragging on for far too long.
I take a half step forward. That’s all the little space between us can allow.
I let out a heavy breath, fanning her face with warmth.
“It’s you who didn’t get the memo.” I take out my gun from its holster and place it on the table to my left.
“I don’t want you. You already belong to me, and the only thing that’ll save you from me is death—not that I’m going to let it.
Now be a good little girl and take those damn clothes off, or I’ll rip them off myself! ”
This time, she obeys, slowly sliding off her clothes and leaving behind her underwear. Her hands assume their protective stance. Her bra hung on to her voluptuous breasts, as if to hoard them.
“What are you doing? I said to take off your damn clothes.”
With shaky hands, she unhooks her bra, and I watch the flimsy cotton drop to the ground, leaving her breasts unguarded.
I nod gently, and she takes it as a cue to wriggle out of her panties.
I sense her hands about to go up again, to rid my hungry eyes of this pleasant view.
“Don’t you dare...” I whisper, grazing her nipple with my thumb. She shudders.
“What are you going to do to me?” she says with a shaky breath.