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I feel him, but I didn’t hear him, and I shudder with shock when Matteo’s voice comes from right behind me.
“Let her use the last bedroom for now and we’ll see how it goes.”
He’s snuck up to me so quietly, like a panther in the night, and like his prey, I freeze. An easy kill.
It’s only when the front door clicks closed seconds later that I breathe. Hell, I didn’t even hear him traverse the expanse of his living room floor to what must be the foyer.
Burley doesn’t move or twitch. “Yep, luv, you’ve summed it up. Don’t fuck with him. You won’t live to regret it.”
9
MATTEO
Stan, one of our bodyguards, drives me to the club and I phone Stephano on the way there. “I’m heading your way. Are you there tonight?” When my brothers left earlier, it wasn’t because Natasha had come out of the safe room; some of them had to work tonight.
“I’m here. Luca is at OBSIDIAN. What do you need?”
For a moment I hesitate. Sex has always been easy for me. But now, as the vague memories of the women who’ve served me roll like a film reel in my mind, I groan inwardly. Nothing appeals right now. “Let me see when I get there.”
“Want me to arrange something?”
“No, I’ll have a drink at the bar and see if it goes anywhere.”
When I walk into LUNA, a high-end strip club that also stages scenes in the basement for paying clientele, I glance around the dark space. The subtle lighting usually does a lot for a man’s imagination, but now I can’t see beyond the used bodies that sway in the light. Sultry, oversexed, and processed to look like some cartoon version of the standard male fantasy. I bet there isn’t a rack in this place that isn’t fake.
All I see in my mind’s eye is Natasha’s perfect natural breasts, and that rosy areola that peeked out at the side of her bikini top, her full nipple just shy of showing. Her reaction to my touch was novel. Her breathing stalled and goosebumps followed the trail of my fingertip, and that little shudder as I grazed a circle over the hardened peak gave everything away. None of the women in this club would have reacted like that to such a simple touch. They’re too jaded.
I sit down at the end of the bar with my back to the wall and order a double whiskey on ice, watching the guests. I’m halfway through my drink when I curse. The little minx at home is taking up way too much bandwidth in what should be a session of stress relief for me. I finish my drink with one gulp and slam the glass on the counter. Maybe if I go to the dungeon my head will be jerked into the right headspace for sex.
“Don’t have another,” Stephano says as he comes up to me with hastened strides.
Of course he knew where to find me. Security knows who comes and leaves all the time. As they fucking should.
“What’s happening?”
“Greg Martinez just walked in.”
“You got to be kidding me.”
“Seems he took our bait.”
Fucking idiot. He’s a dead man. Fucker left one of our strippers as good as dead nine months ago. We don’t pimp these women; they’re on the payroll like any other staff at a big firm. We’ll never be into prostitution, but we can’t stop the strippers from engaging in what they will after hours. Martinez disappeared but our network has got some reach and Dominic, Stephano, and Luca have been involved in a scheme to lure him back to Boston. Doesn’t help that our wider network let it drop that Martinez killed a prostitute in Mexico. Probably not his first, but tonight he’s done.
“What do you have on site?” I ask as I follow Stephano to the back office, where security footage will allow us to track his movement in the club.
“Some G and roach.”
When we reach the security office, we both home in on the screen where the team is following Martinez’s movements. Good job, Stephano. He jumped on this like a champ.
“You think he’s going to go for a BDSM scene?” Stephano asks. “Or do we spike his drink and not even get him to touch any of our staff?”
“Fucker doesn’t get to touch anybody.” That one likes sadism too much. “Give him just enough GHB to get him out of here. I want him conscious when you deal with him.”
We both know what happens next. We don’t ‘deal’ with fuckers like Martinez at the club. Il Consiglio likes to keep its workplaces clean. It’s good for staff morale. After some recent renovations, I have a freeze-dry promession facility in my ten-vehicle private garage in the basement of my apartment building. Perfect to get rid of unwanted bodies. Fish like to feed on the powder the process produces, and one of our money laundering shops is a chain of pet stores that specializes in tropical fish.
I watch as Martinez orders another drink from a waitress who is dressed Playboy-bunny style. Some things never get old. “Make sure that one’s spiked.”
Stephano walks out and I watch as the whole thing plays out on the screen. When Martinez attempts to stand it’s too late. Two bouncers are there to help him along.
