I throw back a double shot of whiskey, slam my glass down, then make a beeline for Roxanne, signaling for the valet to bring my car around on the way.
I barely make it three steps away from the bar when I’m bumped into by a stumbling and somewhat drunk blonde. “Dimi, I thought our get-together was a single-invitee gathering.” Theresa pouts like a child before tiptoeing her fingers up my chest. “I don’t mind. I just wish you would have told me.” Her childish voice shreds my eardrums almost as Roxanne’s narrowed glance across the room cuts me to pieces. She isn’t a fan of Theresa’s. She’s not the only one, but since admitting that would underhand my ruse tonight, I pretend I’m not tempted to cut off Theresa’s fingers when they lower from my pecs to the crotch of my trousers. “I would have packed something more enticing if I knew I had competition. These women may know how to fuck, but that isn’t what you do, is it, Dimi? You completely devour.”
Her scarce friendly demeanor is explained when Smith mumbles down my earpiece, “Just like you did the little concoction Preacher slipped into your drink.” When my eyes stray to a camera in the corner of the room seeking answers for his riddle, he explains, “Loose lips sink big ships, but I figured you’d rather loosen hers with some Molly instead of your cock. Despite the shit you’ve been spurting the past three days, there’s only one set of lips you want wrapped around your cock. They don’t belong to Theresa.”
Neither the honesty of his statement nor his unusual mix-up will strike his name out of my shit book, but what Theresa says next improves the odds of it happening within the week. While peering at a man I’ll forever hate more than I will emulate, she asks, “Do you think it’s weird your father spared Megan’s life twice, but he wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire?”
While laughing like her scold has no sting, she stumbles forward at a rate too fast for her hazy head to keep up with. I love carnage, my ego feeds off it, so normally, I’d step back and watch her fall.
This time, I can’t because not only does her next confession have me dying to keep her awake, it knocks me on my ass even quicker than the drugs Preacher slipped into her drink. “I get she’s a little kooky, and you pissed him off by keeping your daughter a secret, but still, shouldn’t he treat all his kin the same?”
33
Roxanne
“Ouch!” I snap my eyes to Rocco, peeved as fuck he pinched me. I’m already dealing with horrific cramps and a sweaty body that has me dying for a shower. He didn’t need to up the ante. “What was that for?”
He hits me with a stern glare someone as playful as him shouldn’t be able to pull off before he scrubs a hand across his wiry beard. “Believe me, you’ll rather my torture than the one you’re about to subject yourself to.”
I act as if I have no clue what he’s talking about. “Whatever do you mean?”
Fighting the urge not the pinch me again, he spits out through a tight jaw, “The headcount the green-headed monster on your shoulderthinksyou’re doing in your head.”
His reply all but answers my suspicion. It also doubles the painful churns of my stomach. I had wondered if the women in the nightclub were previous ‘associates’ of Dimitri’s. Now I know without a doubt.
I won’t give you an indication of how many women are in this room, or you’ll think I’m crazy when I update you on the horrifying amount of jealousy brewing in my stomach.
When I arrived hours ago, my eyes locked with Dimitri’s across the room in less than a nanosecond. The look on his face assured me he was about to have me marched out, or at the very least, do it himself, so you can imagine my shock when neither of those things occurred. He hasn’t glanced my way once, much less scowled at Rocco.
I tried to use the time to my advantage. I’ve spoken to almost every woman in attendance without the slightest bit of disdain in my voice.
It was no easy feat.
Only one lone wolf has slipped my net. Her evasion has more to do with the fact she’s hanging off Dimitri like a leach than anything else. Just watching her rub her breasts against Dimitri’s arm to whisper in his ear has me wanting to heave, and I’ve kept my distance, so I’m not so sure I should test my tolerance up close.
My ruse to act unaffected by their closeness will end as disastrously as it did when I wretched a hooker from Dimitri’s crotch by the strands of her faultless hair. Guaranteed. I’m already on the cusp of slaughter now, and they’re still fully clothed, although I don’t see that being the case if the blonde has her way. She isn’t just tiptoeing her fingers along Dimitri’s chest anymore, she’s undoing the buttons keeping his tattooed pecs hidden.
After a couple of minutes trying to talk myself out of it, I give in to the temptation burning me alive. My nanna always said I got my rebellious streak from her. I’d hate to stain her legacy by standing back and watching my man be mauled by another woman directly in front of me.
Don’t misunderstand. I won’t fight her for Dimitri.
I’m merely going to make him come to me.
“You’re really going to do this?” Rocco asks with a laugh before he downs his drink with one big gulp then follows me across the room.
The nightclub Dimitri hired has a moody, underground sex club feel to it, it is just minus multiple sex pods and a viewing chamber for those who like to watch. High-back booths take up a majority of the space, and a handful of sunken privacy-roped areas give it a risqué, sophisticated edge.
If the women dotted throughout the space were scantily dressed like the ones who entertain Dimitri’s Arabian ‘guests,’ I’d suspect this establishment was a high-end brothel. Since they aren’t, I’ll settle on calling it a dance club for well-to-do patrons.
It’s the fight of my life to keep a rational head when it dawns on me that Dimitri’s buttons aren’t the only things the blonde’s hands are caressing. She’s touching him everywhere—his pecs, his arms, the buckle of his belt. If it’s a part of him, she’s caressing it in some way.
The fact she can touch him so freely without fear of persecution has me switching tactics in an instant, and I throw more than just my morals under the bus in the process.
“Whoa, hold up, Princess P,” Rocco pushes out, half amused, half panicked when I shove him into a bean-bag type seat across from Dimitri and the unnamed blonde before nuzzling into his side. “Aren’t I supposed to get a final meal before I’m sent to slaughter?”
“I’m sure I can find you something interesting to nibble on if you’ll follow my lead.” While mimicking the tiptoe finger walk the blonde is doing to Dimitri’s chest on Rocco’s, I force my gaze away from Dimitri’s slit eyes to the humorous pair peering down at me. “Unless you’re scared about how Dimitri will react?”
With a smile that’s as evil as it is sweet, Rocco sinks deeper into the flexible material cushioning his backside before he adjusts the span of his thighs. His stance is almost an exact replica of Dimitri’s. However, his eyes are nowhere near as narrowed. “I’m not scared of Dimi, Princess P. I’m just worried you don’t understand what you’re signing up for.”
