Darkness Is The Only Light: Mafia Romance (18+)

Chapter 50 | Lavender blue

Hello!
Finallllllllly I've updated, am still kind of sick, but I'm feeling a bit better so I could finish this chapter.

I don't know what's happening to me, but when I start with writting Demetrios' pov it's kind of rough and hard to write, but then pretty soon I turn into a psychopath and words spill out smoothly... he's ruining my mental health.

Anyways, enjoy finally.

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DEMETRIOS' P.O.V.:

"How should I interpret that on my birthday party you look like you're at the fucking funeral?" Maxim complains as his gaze wanders over to the whore on the pole in front of us. He looks at her with satisfied features while lowering his eyes to the whore's almost naked body.

I assess the girl myself; average one, big tits with pirced nipples, long blode hair, wearing only black panties and high heels. Hardly anything to drool on.

"Has it ever occured to you that I am, in fact, mourning the day you were born?" I mutter, finishing off my glass of vodka. Where is that fucking waitress? I need another one.

We used to often visit some of the strip clubs I own, but right now it seems like shoving a knife in my throat would be a better idea than to be here.

I glance around the VIP lounge, the sound is muted and the air is cool, with a faint scent of perfume and alcohol. The lounge is dimly lit, with spotlights highlighting the plush sofas and armchairs, the glass tables and the velvet curtains. The walls are adorned with mirrors and paintings, creating a sense of space and luxury. My gaze stops on Victor who is sitting on another sofa to my left with a whore on his lap, rubbing her naked body against his pants while kissing his neck and letting out pathetic moans with his hands groping her ass. On the other hand, Ilya is speaking to one in the far corner of the room, fucker is actually creating conversations with them.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Maxim's groan snaps my attention back on him.

Smirk crawls on my lips as my eyes land on his annoyed expression. "Well, you didn't really believe you being shot on my birthday was a coincidence, did you?" I tease the fucker.

"Fuck you." He spits, emptying his glass.

Gurning laughter seeps out of me, satisfied with his reaction before annoyance comes back as I realize the waitress still hasn't come around with her flat ass. She'll be fucking lucky if I'll only fire her.

"Where is the-"

"I don't fucking know!" I spit, my temper getting the best of me. Suddenly all I can think of is warm blood pouring from the bitch's throat, her pale body turning cold and limp. Eyes open wide. Fear. Pain. So much pain.

Rustling brings me back to reality as Maxim starts going through some present bags he got. I sigh, rubbing my temples. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Which one is yours?" He asks impatient, peaking inside each. "I bet it's vodka, which one did you get?"

"The most expensive one, obviously. That one."

He grabs the right present bag taking out the bottle and opens it, filling our glasses. For fucks sake finally.

I empty the glass, it helps to keep my bad temper at bay. Glancing on the side I see the blonde whore who danced on the first pole in front of our sofa, walking closer, straddling Maxim's lap.

I roll my eyes and pour myself another glass, the bare sight of their kissing makes me sick to my stomach. Between me and Maxim the difference is big. He loves to use his whores, fuck them, kiss them, touch them, fucking pleasure them, sleep with them. Everything.