Chapter sixteen

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I loathed the man sitting beside me.

I kept repeating that in my head as I sat in the smoke filled private room of his club, watching him from my peripheral view while he engrossed in a conversation with the two other men, who both seemed equally inquisitive in what he had to say.


I hated the authority he had over everyone around him. The kind that only one raised in a hierarchy could establish. The kind that would make you crap your pants, if you were to cross him.


His presence in the room was autocratic―as one who was fully aware of his power and the extent to which he was able to use it.

But despite all of these attributes that he possessed, which included his attractive features, it was difficult to gain sympathy for this man. He was a cold hearted monster.

He showed no signs of emotion, and although his guests were enjoying a good laugh with the ladies hanging around their shoulders, his stone cold expression never faltered.
He eyed them with precaution through his thick eyelashes as they followed the women wearing the exact same laced-masks I had worn a few nights ago, leading them out of the private room.

“Take her upstairs.” My stomach dropped when Giada appeared before me, palm stretched out at Antonio’s order. My eyes flickered up to her face and her lips thinned. My heart thumped. Was he offering me to them?

I turned to face him, fighting the sinking feeling as he remained stoic. I pushed myself up and followed Giada through the narrow hall and up a long flight of steps to another lengthy corridor that was aligned with doors.

I turned to give Giada a final look. She nodded. “You can do this.”

One of the men was fucking the stripper when I entered the designated private room and the other was watching them while he sat back on a red sofa, sipping his drink.

I almost threw up for real this time. I gripped the blade tightly through my dress as I lowered onto the space next to him.

His hand moved towards me. I clenched my teeth. It started up the lower part of my leg and paused at my kneecap.

He mumbled something in Albanian when he continued sliding his fingers further up to the warmness between my thighs. I kept my legs locked together, making it difficult for him to get access.

What I came up here for took less than expected because the drinks that I had been serving these men were laced with drugs, and once the fucking ceased the spilling commenced.

An hour later, I was back at the VIP room, tossing the knife onto the glass table in front of Niccolo.

“They’re not giving you shit.”

He glanced at his brother, then back up to me, his gaze lowering to where my thighs began.

“It’s not my blood,” I countered with indifference but my knees were shaking and my bottom lip quivered mildly.

“Sit,” he motioned with his head and I obeyed like the good puppet that I was. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the table. I felt the walls closing in, the tension palpable between us.

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