AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I gasp, stumbling backward into the glass of the shower stall as Massimo surges into me. He grabs me by the throat, choking the air from my lungs as he leers into my face.
“I get to talk to you however the fuck I want, wife,” he snarls. “And I’ll ask you one more time: do you have anything for me.”
I manage to swallow through his grip, nodding quickly.
“Show me.”
When he lets go, fear has me racing over to my phone on the vanity. I bring up the pictures I took and show him.
“Mmm, good,” Massimo murmurs, nodding as he scrolls through them. A ding tells me he just sent them to himself. “And the will?”
“I’m trying,” I blurt, hugging the towels tighter.
“Try fucking harder,” he snaps. “Or maybe I need to motivate you the way I motivate my whores.”
Oh God.
Massimo reaches for his belt.
“Don’t you fucking dare touch me,” I hiss.
He starts to chuckle, shrugging casually. Then his hand drops from his belt.
“I could,” he sneers. “I could. But I won’t.” He grins. “I enjoy torment much more.” He wags a finger at me and starts to turn away. “Find that fucking will, Eloise.”
“Why are you doing all this?!” I ask just as he gets to the bathroom door. “I mean getting me this job, making sure I work under Alistair, and?—”
“And watching you shower after you fuck him?” he sneers with a grin that turns my stomach. Massimo shrugs. “Why does anyone play any game, my dear?” He winks before he turns and walks out of the bathroom.
“Because it’s fun.”
18
ALISTAIR
I’ve always thought that one of the reasons Club Venom is so popular—aside from the obvious—is that it stands on its own without the gratuitous T&A and public sex.
For instance, right now it’s two in the afternoon, and I’m sitting in the stunning and exquisitely designed main lounge. During regular hours, this room is teeming with members in black and gold masks and various stages of undress, either watching or participating in some orgiastic entanglement.
But right now, hours before the guests arrive, you’d think you were in the private VIP lounge of the most exclusive hotel in New York.
Unmasked, given that the club’s not open, I sit at a circular table near the middle of the room with Dante Sartorre and Drazen Krylov. Dante, my relatively new brother-in-law, is the founder, primary partner, and de facto king of Club Venom. And he looks the part, too—today he’s in a dark three-piece suit that I’d bet is straight from Saville Row in London, and shoes I’d wager even more are custom made. His penchant for high fashion makes sense. He comes from a family of tailors.
To his left at the table, Drazen cuts a slightly more fearsome figure. The man is fucking huge—almost as big as Kratos—with broad shoulders, a firm chest, arms that strain the sleeves of his suit jacket, and a towering height.
Once a bit of a warlord and gun-for-hire, the Serbian is now king of the newly re-formed Krylov Bratva. He’s unfathomably wealthy, insanely powerful, possesses a seat at the Bratva High Council, and is near unhinged in his lethalness.
In other words: rich, dangerous, and more than a little nuts. So obviously he’s a client of Crown and Black.
He’s also a new major investor in Club Venom. And again, being how private this place is, it makes sense to have business meetings here.
Plus, Dante’s selection of fine whiskies is perfection.
“The man you’re going to have issues with is Ed Lee,” I say, sitting back in my chair and sipping the Hibiki thirty-five year blended Japanese whisky in my glass, which is approaching orgasmic in how fucking good it is.
“Can he be bought?” Dante mutters, steepling his hands in front of his chiseled face.
“Well—”
