That’s rare—me wanting to see a woman.
I was younger than Benny when I married Benita. My father had passed, so I could’ve pulled out of the agreement. But I chose to honor my father’s contract with hers a decade prior. Plus, marrying her came with valuable real estate and connections. We had few conversations—from which I found her weird—but we created a decent marriage. She became the perfect wife, and while I became the not-so-perfect husband, I respected her. It wasn’t until she was dying in my arms that I realized how deeply I cared for her.
Natalia is catching her breath when she says, “We have to stop doing this before Gigi finds out. She’ll be home soon.”
I stare at her. She’s such a fucking sight.
I can smell our sex in the room, and I want it to soak into these walls, so every time I step into this room, I think of her.
In my office, her pussy dripping with my cum.
“Stop what?” I clear my throat.
She gestures back and forth between us.
“Fucking each other?”
She pinches her lips and attempts to straighten her lopsided ponytail. “You say it so crudely.”
“How else should I say it?” I walk to the bar cart and pour myself a drink while waiting for a response that doesn’t come.
As I’ve spent time with Natalia, I’ve picked up on her traits, her response to certain situations, and I know she’s resisting the urge to make a smart-mouthed response.
I motion toward her with my glass. “You’d better straighten yourself up then because you look thoroughly fucked.”
“If you weren’t you, I’d be flipping you off right now.”
“Do it. I’ll just pin you down and make you fuck yourself with that finger in front of me.”
My cock stirs when she fights back a smile.
“Where are your thoughts about flipping me off now?”
She narrows her eyes, and just as she opens her mouth to reply, there’s a knock on the door.
“Just in case you didn’t know, you’re loud as fuck,” Benny calls from the other side.
Natalia covers her face with her hands. “I’m never showing my face here again.”
I lick my lips. “I enjoyed our wedding chat. Now, I have business to attend to. You were supposed to stay at the mansion, so I wouldn’t have to worry about you.”
“I decided against that.”
“Looks like you’ll sit in here then. Trust me when I say, this room is more … what’d you call it? Bores town?”
She glares at me. “How about I go hang out in the club … grab myself a drink?”
“How about I fuck some sense into you?”
It’s like she lives to push my buttons.
She frowns.
“I’ll be back.” I do a circle gesture of the room. “Watch TV. No more alcohol. Stay out of trouble.”
“I always stay out of trouble.”
I scoff before leaving the room and find Luca and Benny talking in a corner.
“Why the fuck did you bring Natalia here?” I shove Luca into the wall and bare my teeth.
Luca points at Benny.
Benny shrugs. “Didn’t seem like you had an issue with her presence a few moments ago.” He spreads his hand along his jaw to hide his smirk. “FYI, one of Vinny’s men tried sneaking into the club. We caught him, of fucking course, and he’s tied up in the Northern Room.”
The Northern Room is a room in the back, where we take men to interrogate them. It’s soundproofed, not on the blueprints, and away from clubbers and employees.
I nod. “Give whoever spotted him a raise.”
Vinny sending men here means he’s up to something.
“I want you watching over Natalia.” I snap my fingers at Benny before turning my glare to Luca. “It seems this one allows her to boss him around.”
CHAPTER 23
NATALIA
This office—whoever’s it is—has no personality whatsoever.
White walls, black and blue-gray granite tiles, and framed newspaper covers and article clippings praising the club hang on the walls. It’s nothing as extravagant as Cristian’s office at the mansion. Then again, not many could compete with the space there.
Conversation passes through the door from the hallway, and I stroll to the desk. I open the top drawer and snatch my panties from it. If this is some rando’s desk, my panties aren’t staying there. After casting a quick glance at the door, I take the opportunity to rifle through the drawers.
In the drawer he shoved my panties into is a gun, knife, loose sticks of wrapped gum, and condoms. In the one below it are random office supplies. The tall one on the left is locked.
Is this Benny’s office?
Did Cristian dick me down on his son’s desk?
My cheeks redden in embarrassment.
I’ve never been one for public sex, but Cristian Marchetti’s charm had me spread eagle on the desk.
Gripping the edge of the desk to balance myself, I slide my panties back on before strolling to the bar cart.
These men and their bar carts.
Skimming my fingers along the bottles—most of them full or half-empty—I snag one with a pretty label even though I can’t pronounce the name. I twist off the lid, grab a glass, and pour it to the brim. Just as I’m returning the bottle, the door opens, and Benny walks in.
I swing my arm toward the desk. “Is that yours?”
Benny shakes his head. “My dad’s, though he hardly comes here.” A sly smile spreads over his handsome face. “Don’t worry, Natalia. You didn’t just fuck my dad on my desk.”
I pluck the liquor bottle from the cart in case I want another drink, and I struggle to clutch that and my glass as I walk over to the couch. I’m proud of myself for not spilling anything as I collapse onto it. “Why does your dad own a club he’s never at?”
“My dad has plenty of businesses he’s not involved in daily.” He unbuttons his black blazer—one so similar to what his father wears—and slips his hands into his pockets. “I proposed the idea of a club, asked him to invest, and now, we’re here.”
Benny confiscates the bottle from me faster than I can stop him. “This shit will fuck you up with one shot. My father will kill me if he comes in here and you can’t walk.”
“Your father is always going to kill someone,” I grumble before taking a sip of my drink and cringing at the taste.
Benny might’ve taken the bottle, but I still have a full glass of the shit that will fuck me up with one shot. And from the drink I just took, I believe him.
He returns to the cart, puts the bottle back, and grabs another before handing it to me. “It’s part of the lifestyle.”
I shift on the couch and make myself comfortable, sitting cross-legged. “Will you be the same when you take over?”
His face is unreadable. “I don’t know how I’ll be if I ever take over.”
“You’ve never thought about it … since you’ll be the one to do so?”
He scratches his unshaven cheek. “The only reason I’ll ever take over is if my father dies. So yeah, not aiming for that.”