"𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫..."
𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐚
I never really had a choice.
In the world I live in, choices are a luxury I can't afford.
As a woman, my path is predetermined, etched in stone by the patriarchal rules of our society. No room for negotiations, no space for arguments, and certainly no tolerance for an independent attitude.
I still recall the day when I sat before my father, the weight of grief heavy on my shoulders after my elder sister's funeral. It was then that he presented me with the contract, a binding document that would govern the rest of my life.
I couldn't hold back the tears that welled up in my eyes as his words flowed over me like a haunting melody, sealing my fate with each uttered clause.
"This is your job, Clara."
"Stop crying."
His words.
"Yes, father."
My words.
In three weeks, I'll be in the church with my husband.
This decision was made by my father and his best friend, a man no one dared to whisper his name.
Every man feared him.
Every Don in the Mafia.
He was a man of power, a man of strength and war.
And his name was Vincent Kovak
Vincent Kovaks reputation as the most feared man in the Mafia was not built overnight. It was forged through a lifetime of calculated moves, ruthless decisions, and an air of icy authority that sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened criminals.
Born into a life where loyalty was paramount, he was raised in the heart of the criminal underworld. His father, a formidable figure in his own right, groomed Vincent from a young age to follow in his footsteps. But Vincent wasn't content with merely carrying on his father's legacy – he wanted to surpass it.
In his early years, Vincent learned to manipulate, control, and strike fear into those around him. His intelligence was as sharp as the blade he was rumored to carry, and his charisma was a mask that concealed his true intentions. As he climbed the ranks of the Mafia, he amassed a network of loyal associates who both respected and feared him. His enemies were met with a calculated fury, as he demonstrated time and again that crossing his path was a death sentence.
However, he wasn't just a man of violence.
He was a strategist, a tactician who saw the criminal landscape as a chessboard, with each move setting the stage for his ultimate goal: dominance.
He diversified his interests, delving into legitimate businesses that provided a facade of legitimacy while fueling his illicit operations. His influence extended beyond the narrow confines of his criminal empire, reaching into politics, law enforcement, and the economy.
But with power came adversaries. Rival factions within the Mafia coveted his position, and law enforcement agencies worked tirelessly to bring him down. Yet, he remained elusive, a shadowy figure who seemed to dance just out of reach. He operated in the shadows, orchestrating his operations with meticulous precision and maintaining an air of invincibility.
As the years passed, Vincent's grip on power only tightened. His enemies either bowed to his authority or vanished without a trace. He had become more than a man; he was a symbol of terror and power in equal measure, a living embodiment of the Mafia's ruthlessness and ambition.
And I would be marrying his brother, Roman Kovak.
I've never met him, nor would I want too.
Old men.
Disgust me.
I stood beside my parents as they continued to speak to other people, I make my way to the bar leaving them behind before resting onto one of the stools. The bartenders eyes locks with mine and he comes my way, throwing a towel over his shoulders before leaning his elbows onto the counter.
"Clara Saint, what would you like?" A smile spreads across my lips as I move closer to him, his eyes fall down to my red lips before moving closer to my breasts.
"A red wine, Antonio." I whisper his name, he nods his head and pushes away from the counter as I open my purse to slide out a packet of cigarettes.
Beside me, a gentleman extended his lighter, the flame dancing to life with a casual flick of his thumb.
"Thank you," I murmured, exhaling a plume of smoke that mingled with the ambient haze. I settled back into my perch, the velvety cushion caressing my skin.
Antonio returned with a grace that matched the refined atmosphere of the bar. He placed the glass of red wine before me, the deep hue of the liquid catching the soft glow of the overhead lights.
With a measured grace, I lifted the glass, letting the wine swirl gently as if awakening its complex flavors. The first sip danced across my palate, a symphony of notes that spoke of elegance and maturity.
Amidst this indulgence, a gentle touch settled upon my shoulder, causing me to turn my head. My father stood there, a pillar of authority even in the midst of opulence. His words were accompanied by the subtle rustle of his well-tailored suit.
"Your mother and I are heading home," he informed me, his tone a blend of warmth and expectation.
I nodded, acknowledging his words. "Of course, father. I'll be on my way shortly." His kiss on my cheek held a tenderness that conveyed both his pride and his protective nature. As they departed, my mother's presence merged seamlessly with his, a united front that left an echo of their authority in the room
Suddenly the room went silent, and it felt as if all the power was sucked out of the room. I turn my head to the side and my eyes lock with a pair of dark brown ones, he stood tall and huge-a black suit that was just made for him, outlining ever muscle on his body whilst sitting well on his broad shoulders.
Who is this man?
There were four body guards behind him, not that he needed a single one of them by the looks of him. The air between us seemed charged with recognition, though we were strangers in this decadent realm.
Yet, even as curiosity gnawed at me, I turned my head back to my drink. I didn't want to appear overtly intrigued, even though the allure of the unknown was a siren's call. The rich red wine found its way to my lips, a vessel of distraction from the potent presence that had entered the room.
"Whiskey," his command cut through the silence, each syllable dipped in darkness.
I settle my cigarette into the bowl.
Antonio's response was swift, though it carried a note of deference that hinted at a respect bordering on fear. "Yes, sir."
I watched the exchange unfold from the periphery of my own thoughts, my focus on the crimson swirls within my wine glass. The momentary distraction of the enigmatic man did little to deter my attention from the drink before me, even as the tension in the room remained palpable.
Yet, a spark of defiance ignited within me, fanned by a sense of justice that refused to be quelled. The words escaped my lips before I could second-guess them, the sound of my own voice a daring contrast to the muted air.
"You could say please, or thank you, it is not hard to have a bit of manners." I interjected, my tone measured, though it carried a charge of its own. My gaze remained fixed on the crimson currents within my glass, a ruse that masked the quickening of my pulse.
His reply was swift, the darkness in his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "And you could mind your business."
A flicker of challenge sparked within me, and I couldn't resist the pull to engage further. My head turned, my gaze meeting his with a mixture of defiance and intrigue. "Not when it comes to disrespect."
Our words lingered in the air like the clash of opposing forces, an invisible tension that bridged the divide between us. I notice his lip slowly turning up, before he looks away from me.
Antonio returns and hands him his whiskey, and I glance at the man.
"It really is not hard." I remarked, a teasing lilt to my voice, though my eyes remained focused on the crimson swirls within my glass.
A low chuckle rumbled in his throat, a sound that held both amusement and a hint of something deeper. "You've got a mouth on you," he replied, his gaze drifting down to his drink, as if to hide the unexpected connection that had formed.
My own amusement bubbled forth, mingling with a sense of satisfaction. I took another sip of my wine, the liquid a buffer for the emotions that swirled beneath the surface. "I've been told once or twice."
Rising from his seat, he moved with a deliberate, calculated grace that drew the attention of every nerve in my body.
My jaw clenched involuntarily as he closed the distance, his presence engulfing me like a storm on the horizon. He stood just behind me, his imposing six foot five frame casting a shadow that seemed to stretch across the room, a palpable force that sent shivers down my spine.
In that moment, the air itself felt charged with anticipation, the silence of the room magnifying the weight of his approach. His arms circled me, a cage that left me simultaneously trapped and strangely exhilarated. My heart raced as his lips brushed against my ear, his words a velvet whisper that tingled down my neck like the caress of a forbidden secret.
His stomach against my back.
"Use it with me like that again," his voice was low, a dangerous undertone that set my nerves on edge. "And I'll make sure to put it to better use."
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, laden with a promise that ignited a fire within me. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to blur, leaving only the electric tension between us.
"I dare you," my words were a whisper, a breathless admission that hung in the air like a charged particle.
"I suggest you rethink that dare, devil." I watched him make his way towards the exit, each step resonating with a quiet intensity that left a trail of questions in its wake. In the wake of his departure, the room seemed to regain its normal rhythm, the ambient sounds returning as if awakened from a spell.
Anger burns into my gut as I open my purse and hand Antonio a one hundred dollar bill before walking out of the ballroom to catch up with that rude man. The moment I reach outside, the doorman opens the door for me and I catch the man just about to enter the black suv.
"Do not dare speak to me like that." Even his bodyguards seem taken aback by my reaction.
He halts his steps, and I can sense the astonishment radiating from those around us. With a deliberate motion, he turns to face me, his figure looking down at my much smaller frame.
"I don't know who you think you are, and frankly, I don't give a damn. But if you have any shred of decency left in you, I suggest you learn some manners," my words come out in a heated rush, fueled by a mix of frustration and defiance. "Or were your parents too occupied to raise you into anything other than an insufferable jerk?"
My breath catches in my throat as I realise the audacity of my own words.
He grabs my throat and pushes me against the car, a smile spreads across my face. "Oh you have no idea of what you have just done."
And you have no idea of who I am.
His eyes flick up and down.
And my heart beats against my chest.
Before I can fully process what's happening, I find myself acting on pure instinct. I seize his collar, tugging him toward me with a mix of fury and something inexplicable. And then, with a reckless abandon that surprises even me, I press my lips onto his.
He doesn't push me away.
Instead, his hands find their way to my face, fingers strong yet gentle as they hold my cheeks. The kiss deepens, a fusion of fiery passion and undeniable attraction that defies all reason. It's as if a storm of emotions has been unleashed, a tempest that sweeps us both into its currents.
The back door of a nearby car opens automatically, and without breaking the kiss, we find ourselves instinctively moving toward it. Our bodies fit together, the tension and desire palpable in the air. In this stolen moment, words are unnecessary.
I straddle his lap as my fingers drag into his hair, my red lipstick staining every inch oh his face and neck.
"Now let me put that mouth to better use." He speaks.
I unbuckle his belt, sliding it off before chucking it to the side. He raises the privacy window, and I unbutton his trousers before my lips catch onto his.
The SUV was large, I slide onto the floor between his legs and slide his cock out, fuck, he was huge-hard. "I knew I made you hard." I whisper, he smirks and grabs a chunk of my hair before lifting me up. His lips find mine, it were as if we were unable to stop kissing.
"I need to teach that mouth of yours a strong lesson." He speaks, butterflies swarm my stomach and he pushes his cock into my mouth. I gag, and push down onto his thighs to lift myself up but he holds me down. "Look at that, lesson taught huh."
Water falls down the side of my eyes and he releases his hold, I slide him out and watch as my spit falls down the side of my mouth.
He wipes it and tucks it back into my mouth and I get back to work on pleasuring him, my tongue swirls around his dick-treating his tip like a lollipop before sucking him in and out.
"Fuuuuuuck..." he groans, I look up and watch as his head falls back.
I like this.
Getting a reaction out of him.
He grabs my head and pushes me up and down, guiding my head the way he likes it. I feel his thighs tense under my firm grip, he was close.
I then feel something hot shoot down the back of my throat, I slide his cock out my mouth and he breathes in. I slowly straddle him, grabbing his throat before leaving my red lipstick lips all over his collar and beside his ears.
His hands rest on my hips before sliding up, he tugs onto my hair causing my neck to fall back and leaves soft wet kisses along my throat.
"Fuck me." I whisper, he raises a brow. I just know he's going to be good in bed. I raise my dress up my thighs, and raise myself before sliding my underwear to the side. I grab onto his dick but he grabs my hand.
"Are you on birth control?"
"Yes." I answer him.
He then pushes himself inside of me, I gasp at how tight I was around him. He releases a groan, his hands tight around my waist as he guides my hips up and down. The sound of his cock slamming into me echoes around the car, we had to be quick. We both knew that.
No names.
Nothing personal.
Just sex and oh my did it feel good.
His cock touches all the right places, my fingers rush through his hair. He grabs my jaw and forces me too look at him, and then I feel him slap me across the face.
It was as if he knew I liked it.
"Oh fuck! Fuck." I whisper out, a smirk spreading across my lips as we both pant.
The strands of my dress fall down my shoulders, and I move closer against him-I grab onto the seat and ride him faster. My hands travel down his shirt, before sliding underneath to feel every single abdomen. He catches my lips in his, and I feel his tongue graze the back of my mouth.
Until suddenly, I clench around him and we both release at the same time.
We were both breathless, tangled in the aftermath of our impulsive encounter. I hastily retrieved my underwear, the car's interior feeling stifling and laden with tension. My fingers fumbled with my hair, and I stole a quick glance at him. Our eyes locked briefly, a myriad of emotions flickering between us.
"I hope to never see you again," I declared, my voice tinged with defiance.
"Likewise," he responded, his tone holding an enigmatic edge.
As I opened the car door, my gaze lingered on him for a fleeting moment. A hint of a smirk played at the corner of my lips, a blend of defiance and intrigue.
Author
The Tattoo Artist is now on kindle, with mature scenes, and a different written version! Check it out now!