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Cold metal cooled my clammy hands as I pulled open the door, sunlight glinting against the gold letters. Morte—Food to Die For.

I didn’t want to admit it, but I loved the play on the name—an Italian restaurant run by the Mafia that catered to the wealthy and morally corrupt. Brilliant. Many had died inside these textured walls, but it wasn’t from the food. It was deceivingly inviting with its low lighting and intimate setting. The clicking of my heels sounded against the dark wooden flooring, mixing with the smooth jazz playing over the speakers. The place was empty for weekend dinner service, and there was only a skeleton crew working tonight. I hoped Maxim didn’t question that. If he did, I was planning on telling him we rented out the space for him. His ego would love it.

By design, the place was long and narrow. The front half was a normal restaurant, though it was almost impossible to get into without an invitation, but the back room was where important business was conducted. You had to know about the hidden dining room since it was walled off and soundproofed. And it was where tonight’s job was going down. I pushed through the large double doors made to look like the entrance to a wine cellar, which was pretty spot-on. A large table draped in a white cloth, the top dotted with tea light candles, sat in the far corner of the space. I grimaced slightly at how pristine it looked, knowing tonight’s plan would ruin that.

“Can I get a martini, extra dry? Thanks,” I called out to one of the hired waiters, taking the opportunity to scan the room. I’d been here a few times with Dominick and Enzo, but never at this table. Usually, it was me playing waitress. The alcohol burned my throat, centering my focus while loosening my limbs. My body tingled as fabric brushed my bare back. Hot breath caressed the shell of my ear, and I melted into the chiseled chest.

“What the hell are you wearing? Did you seriously come in lingerie and pants?”

“Evening to you too, husband.” I turned to look at the man growling at me, realizing how close his face was to mine. Our lips were only inches apart. I loved the small scar marring his upper lip. The minor imperfections made him hotter. When I glanced back at his eyes, his gaze burned with lust.

“I’m here to do the job you hired me for, Caleb. Now, are you capable of keeping your dick in your pants for a night to get this done?” I dragged the tips of my fingers down the center of his black dress shirt, pulling away right before they made it to his growing bulge. “And since you must not see women out of their clothes often, this is a chemise. My lingerie has far less fabric to it,” I called over my shoulder, as I walked away, winking at the waiter, who choked at my words.

“Keep your eyes away from her ass, or I’ll cut them out,” Caleb growled, stomping away from me to wait for our guest. If he were any more aggressive with his steps, he’d have the plates bouncing off the tables.

Of course, professions of violence turned me on.

I ignored the inconvenience of a soaked thong and focused on the man who appeared in front of me.

“Niko, have I ever told you that you’re my favorite?” I asked, dropping into the wooden chair he had pulled out. Tonight’s seating arrangements were carefully orchestrated. Head of the table was Dominick’s supposed seat. To his right was Caleb’s, then mine, and the boys’. Maxim had the seat of honor to Dominick’s left, a position with the best line of sight to the door.

Let him have a false sense of protection.

“You tell me every time I have my tongue buried in that pussy of yours,” Niko whispered in my ear, causing an eruption of goose bumps along the back of my neck.

“Psh. I bet I eat her pussy way better than you do. She’s just saying that so you keep cooking for her,” Kenji said, seeming to pop up out of nowhere. He slipped into the chair next to me, stealing it from the Russian giant still at my back. His lips were cold, probably having come from the walk-in freezer in the kitchen.

“Who’d you stuff in the freezer, Kenji?” I asked against his lips, my tone playfully chastising.

Niko scoffed, taking his seat and mumbling about being stuck with bloodthirsty degenerates.

Kenji pulled back, taking my bottom lip with him, releasing it with a pop as he wiggled his eyebrows. The movement drew my attention to a smattering of blood he’d managed to miss when he’d cleaned up before joining us. Luckily Maxim wasn’t here yet to witness me wiping it from Kenji’s hairline.

“One of Dominick’s boys was sniffing around. Guess he’s got a waitress he likes to bang. Didn’t want him to talk about this secret meeting of ours.”

I was about to comment when my phone buzzed in warning. Kenji’s playful demeanor melted away and was replaced by that of the silent killer that had grown men shitting their pants. “Showtime, boys. Don’t miss me too much,” I said, pushing out of my seat to make my way back into the main section of the restaurant where Caleb and Maxim were.

I slowed my pace when I spotted the Russian billionaire, giving myself time to assess him. He was a woman’s wet dream personified. Blond hair meant to look effortlessly messy, a fit, trim body that he probably pointed out every second he could, and a panty-melting smile with teeth so white Crest should hire him. He was the definition of poison wrapped up in a pretty present. But all the abs and money in the world couldn’t make up for how fucked up he was when it came to how he treated people.

My heeled feet carried me toward his bodyguards. Nausea crept up my throat as I reached a hand out to the billionaire sex trafficker. The thought of him touching me made me want to vomit all over his Gucci loafers, but I pushed the reaction down.

“Mr. Petrov. Nice to see you again,” I said, my tone light and sweet.

A large hand wrapped around my bicep in a bruising grip, and I cut a glare to the bodyguard.

“I suggest moving your hand. And next time, get some fucking consent,” I sneered at the man lording over me, his bald head practically glowing under the lights. Based on the direction his nose was shifted, I’d guess the ogre had been in his share of fights, and I wasn’t sure if they made him uglier or better looking.

“Feisty little one, aren’t you?” Maxim said, placing a placating hand on his bodyguard before extending his other toward me. Over his shoulder, I caught the rapid rise and fall of Caleb’s chest and the daggers he shot at the meathead who’d put his hands on me.

I willed Caleb to keep his reaction under wraps. Tonight, he was supposed to treat me the way Maxim treated women. Like property. Nothing more than a hole to fuck or skin to sell. And I had to be the submissive wife, ready to suck a cock on command.

Otherwise, the bodyguard would have been missing a limb for touching me the way he had.

“Caleb, this wife of yours truly is a beauty. I can see why you chose her,” Maxim commented.

God, I love being talked about like I’m not in the fucking room.

Bile coated my tongue at the sight of Maxim’s smile. It was too wide for his face, predatorial in a way that turned my stomach. Mario’s face flashed in my mind. I’d always felt the same way about him too. It was no wonder these two fuckers had teamed up.