Page 3 of Wicked Bloodlines

The whiskey appeared in front of me, and I downed it in one swallow.

“Another,” I ordered, scanning the club.

The Gray was the crown jewel of our legitimate businesses, though “legitimate” was a relative term. This nightclub was a clean, profitable enterprise frequented by celebrities, politicians, and the city’s elite. Gabriel kept the business clean and the flagship of our name to keep the heat off everything else.

Someone bumped hard against my shoulder, jostling my fresh drink. I turned, hand already curling into a fist, to find a red-faced businessman swaying on his feet.

“Watch where you’re standing,” he slurred, apparently too drunk to recognize me. Or too stupid to care.

I grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the nearest wall, lifting him until his expensive loafers barely scraped the floor. The surrounding conversations died instantly. The man’s eyes bulged, first in anger, then in fear as recognition dawned.

“Mr. Luca,” he choked out. “I didn’t—I didn’t realize—”

I squeezed tighter, watching his face turn an interesting shade of purple. Now I recognized him too. Richard Something-or-other. Regular at the club. Investment banker who occasionally helped move some of our money through offshore accounts.

“Sorry,” he gasped. “Please—”

I released him, watching dispassionately as he slumped against the wall, gasping. “You should go home, Richard. You’ve had enough.”

He nodded frantically, straightening his tie with trembling fingers before scurrying away like a kicked dog. The crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle quickly dispersed, conversations resuming at a slightly higher, more nervous pitch.

I returned to my drink. Across the bar, I caught a vision in a tight red dress staring at me. She smiled over her wine glass. Her dark hair cascaded over one shoulder, and full lips painted the same shade as her dress curved into a knowing smile.

I didn’t bother with small talk when she made her way over. Didn’t ask her name or offer mine, though she undoubtedly knew it. Women like her always knew exactly who I was. What I was.

“Upstairs?” I asked, finishing my drink.

Her smile widened, revealing perfect white teeth. “Lead the way.”

I took her to my private room on the third floor, a space reserved exclusively for family. The security guard stationed outside nodded respectfully as he unlocked the door for us. Inside, the thump of the club’s music faded to a distant heartbeat. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city skyline, while a fully stocked bar, plush seating, and a private bathroom offered all the amenities required for both business and pleasure. Tonight was definitely the latter.

I barely closed the door before she was on me, her mouth hot and demanding against mine. She tasted like vodka and expensive lipstick. I backed her against the desk, hands rough as I hiked up her dress. She didn’t seem to mind, her fingers working frantically at my belt buckle.

“I’ve wanted this for months,” she breathed against my neck, nails scratching down my back.

I didn’t respond. Didn’t care what she wanted or for how long. She was a beautiful woman I intended to fuck. Likely only once.

Her nails bit into my shoulders as I lifted her onto the desk, knocking aside a crystal tumbler that rolled to the carpet with a muted thud. I yanked her dress up around her waist, revealing black lace that I tore away with one rough pull. The fabric gave with a satisfying rip. She gasped against my mouth, her pupils blown wide with desire and the dark thrill of fucking someone dangerous. I knew because I’d seen the look enough times in this very same club. In this very same room.

I spun her around, bending her over the polished mahogany. My reflection stared back at me in the window glass. With hard eyes and jaw clenched, I looked like a man seeking oblivion in the most basic way possible. In front of me, behind my big desk, the city sparkled with distant lights, unknowing and uncaring about what happened in this room above them all.

I shoved her down so her breasts pressed against the polished wood and held my hand across her back, indicating she should stay where she was. I didn’t know her name. Didn’t care. The only thing I cared about was her obedience. When I released her to roll on a condom, she looked back over her shoulder, which irritated the fuck out of me.

“You don’t have permission to move,” I snarled. “Or to look at me.” She looked startled at first, then irritated but complied. “If you want fucked, you stay where I put you. Otherwise, I’ll find another pussy to fill.” I didn’t like being the asshole but I wasn’t in the mood. When she said nothing, only turned her face away, I pulled a condom from a side table drawer, tearing open the package and rolling it on. “This is for me. If you enjoy it, great. But, understand me, while I’ll pay you well, I’m not here to ensure your pleasure.”

She said nothing, only arched her back so her hips rose higher in invitation I knew her desire to fuck a Luca — or the money she knew I’d pay — overrode any objection she had to the way I spoke to her.

I gripped her hips, hesitating a couple of seconds in case she changed her mind. When she didn’t object, I entered her with a single hard thrust that made her clutch the edge of the desk and cry out sharply. The heat of her wrapped around me, her body yielding as I set a punishing pace. Each thrust drove away thoughts of tomorrow, of arranged marriages and family obligations. There was only this the wet sound of flesh meeting flesh, her perfume mixing with the musk of our fucking.

She moaned beneath me, her back arching deeper, but I wasn’t really seeing her anymore. Just using her body to chase away the thoughts crowding my head. I tightened my grip on her hips, leaving red marks that would likely bruise by morning. I didn’t care. She didn’t either, from the way she pushed back against me and cried out every time my abdomen met her ass as I fucked her.

I closed my eyes, focusing on nothing but the physical sensation. The tight heat of her pussy surrounding me should have brought me the oblivion I craved but didn’t. Sweat beaded from my temple and dampened the expensive dress shirt I wore. My breathing grew ragged as I increased my pace, driving into her harder and harder with each thrust.

She came with a shuddering cry, her body clenching around me, but I barely registered it. I was chasing my own release now, selfish and single-minded. When it hit, it was intense but hollow, a few seconds of blinding pleasure that left nothing but emptiness in its wake.

I grunted once as I plunged into her one last, brutal time before I pulled out without comment, disposing of the condom in the small trash bin beside the desk. My body felt better, the physical manifestation of my anger and irritation at the whole arrangement dampened, but my mind still raged. I tucked myself back into my pants and zipped up while she remained sprawled across the desk, catching her breath.

Without looking at her, I pulled my wallet from my back pocket and counted out five one hundred-dollar bills, placed them on the desk beside her face then turned without speaking and went to the side bar to pour a couple fingers of Macallan.