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“That’s unfortunate,” I respond, dropping my smile and glaring at them. Thoughts of how I could murder them dance in my eyes, and I know they see my inner darkness when they start to uneasily shift on their feet. After waiting until they’re good and uncomfortable, I continue, “I thought it was no shirt, no shoes, no service,” I throw back with some sass, twirling a lock of hair.
The sudden change between my darkness and dumb bimbo throws them off. “Just kidding, boys. I’m actually expected inside,” I say. I’m itching for a fight, and with Enzo busy, seeing how long it takes to goad these men into giving it to me sounds like a fun game.
“Who’s sponsoring your visit then?” leftie asks this time. His eyes travel over me, thrown by my switch in moods.
I give him a sultry wink. “Enzo.”
They both give a disbelieving laugh. “Enzo doesn’t bring girls to work. Sorry, princess, you need to leave,” leftie says between chuckles.
“What if you sponsor me?” I run a finger along the neckline of my shirt, drawing attention to my cleavage.
“I don’t think you can handle him, sweetheart,” his partner answers right as the other reaches for me.
“If you touch my sorella, I’ll cut your nuts off and feed them to you slowly,“ Enzo barks from behind us. I turn to find an angry scowl on his face and his hand already holding a knife. Both men jump and immediately step off to either side to put space between us since moving backward isn’t an option.
“We didn’t know, boss.” Leftie quivers, lifting both hands in the air to show he isn’t touching me. I smirk with the small thrill of fear my brother instantly inspired. I like him.
He glances at me as he walks past, shaking his head while walking through the doorway. “You’re looking for trouble, aren’t you? Can you do me a favor and not go after any of my guys? It’s hard to train good help with equal measure of respect and fear,” he grumbles, leading me through a hallway into a large open room.
“You’ve called me Sorella twice now. Did you already forget my name?“ I ask while following him.
He turns around with wide eyes. “It didn’t cross my mind that you might not know Italian. Sorella means sister.“ He turns back around just as we exit the hall. I don’t make another comment about him so easily calling me his sister.
There’s a bar lit up with blue neon lights shining on the bottles, but for the most part, the room is cast in shadows. The kinky fucker runs a sex club. There are only a couple of scantily clad patrons sitting on a couch, one of which holds the leash to a woman acting like a puppy at his feet. She’s kneeling on her knees with her hands resting on the ground. There’s a fluffy black tail leading from a plug in her ass and she’s smiling around the tongue sticking out of her mouth.
I turn to face my brother with wide eyes, glancing up and down with mock judgment. “Don’t look at me like that. There were very few options our padre would approve of if I didn’t want to stay in the club. Apparently, he doesn’t trust anyone else running the skin.”
It would have been naive to think he was a cute innocent little brother, especially growing up in the mafia, but the thought of him running skin still comes as a shock. My lips part, to say what I don’t know, but he cuts me off before I can figure it out. “It’s not exactly what you think,” he objects my thoughts. “I swear it’s all consensual. That’s why Padre wants me running it—to make sure they aren’t taken advantage of and all their limits are kept within check.”
I reach over and pat his cheek. “There, there, little brother. No need to hide what a horn dog you are,” I goad. He lets out a disgruntled huff and gestures for me to follow him. We pass room after room. Some have windows where you can see inside, others are kept private. At this time of day there aren’t many being occupied. In fact, there are several girls in fetish costumes cleaning the empty rooms getting them ready for new clients.
At the end of the hallway, he uses a keypad to open a door and continues leading me up a stairwell. When we reach the top the area opens into a large room set up similarly to the office at the nightclub, the one our father uses. There’s a large window overlooking the main bar area where we came in, and then next to it is a wall of cameras showcasing each room.
Glancing over at my brother I raise an eyebrow. “Safety measure. They all know we’re filming and keeping an eye on everything that happens. Some of the rooms are for patrons who want to have a safe scene outside of the home and others are for clients who didn’t come with a partner,” he answers smoothly like it’s a rehearsed speech he gives to newcomers.
“I assume they’re supposed to be watching the cameras?” I question, gesturing to the couch where two boys his age are finding some relief. One has a girl on her knees in front of him sucking his cock like she hasn’t eaten all week and the other has his girl kneeling on the couch while he stands behind her and slams balls deep inside her.
Focusing back on my brother, he rolls his eyes. “Are you fuckers for real? Can’t you hear we have company?” he bites out, only showing embarrassment since I pointed it out. I suppose working in a sex club would make you desensitized to it happening in the same room.
“We’re almost done,” the first guy says, thrusting into the woman’s mouth while he holds her head steady.
My brother mumbles under his breath and we turn our backs to them. “So, you monitor everything to make sure your prostitutes don’t get hurt?” I verify, my thoughts going to one of my past kills.
“We might sell sex, but it doesn’t mean we need to be monsters about it. It’s the women’s choice what she wants to participate in,” he answers, clicking a button that splits the screens into smaller squares showing what appears to be different buildings. “We have locations in several other cities too, and I’m tasked with making sure they all run smoothly.”
“Holy shit, you’re a glorified pimp!” I tease wiggling my eyebrows. His head tilts back in exasperation. I’m totally nailing this older sibling thing. “I killed a pimp once. He didn’t take care of his girls. I’m happy to see you aren’t anything like him,” I tell him, wanting to see what his reaction will be.
“Oh! What a coincidence. I’ve killed a few pimps too. Who would’ve thought we’d have so much in common growing up separately. Sibling connection is no joke between us,” he says, draping an arm around me. He leans closer so he can whisper ominously in my ear. “Some of the people I’ve killed were chosen from watching what they do on these cameras.” He gestures at the wall of monitors and I stare at them with new interest.
Most of the screens show empty rooms, but my gaze is quickly drawn to a room with several women. One, in particular, catches my attention. It seems like they are in a changing room or something. I point to the screen, and ask Enzo, “Is there audio for these?”
He glances at me with a raised brow before picking up a remote. “What kind of pimp do you think I am? Of course there’s audio.”
The sound of women talking covers the smacking and gagging of his friends being pleasured in the room behind us. ”—as handsome as the last time I saw him. I’m telling you, some bitch won’t get in my way. Vander will be mine. I won’t give up until it happens.”
That fucking cunt. Clearly, she didn’t get the message earlier, which means I need to follow through on my word. “What has you grinning so manically?” Enzo questions with a smirk.
“I sure hope you aren’t attached to that twat right there,” I muse, pointing to the woman on the screen. “I’m afraid I have some unfinished business with her and she won’t be available to work for you any longer.” Figures she’d be a whore, the way she has no qualms going after a taken man.
