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“Langston, there has been a security breach,” a man says while entering Langston’s office. I don’t recognize him. I haven’t met him before.
Langston stands, dropping the bag of peas on the coffee table as he starts walking to handle the issue.
“Langston? Answer me?”
He stops at the door and turns and faces me.
“Please,” I beg.
His lips thin as he stares like he’s seeing a ghost. “It’s not my truth to tell. I’m sorry.”
And then he’s gone.
I slump, my shoulders rounding over my chest.
Now what?
Enzo won’t tell me. Langston won’t answer me. But someone in this club knows my answers. I just have to find the man willing to answer me. I’m not going to wait here for the men to return. I’m going to get my answers.
I force myself up onto wobbly legs. I really shouldn’t have worn these heels, but I knew after the last time I came here that I wanted to look my best. I wanted to fit in, instead of standing out.
I make it to the hallway, but I have no idea where to wander. I know where Enzo will be. I remember the string of corridors that lead to his lair, but do I want to find him?
I start walking, being drawn this way or that way, not thinking as I walk, just feeling and letting my body wander through the hallways. The hallways are mostly dark, and occasionally I’ll walk by a room that is lit up and noisy. I walk by the entrances quickly, not ready to be in the throws of large groups of people again. If I’m going to get my answers, I’m going to need to do it one on one.
Slowly, I realize I am indeed headed toward Enzo’s office. I stop just outside the solid door to his office that is now closed. I consider knocking, but that doesn’t feel right.
I grab the handle, just as I hear sounds behind the door.
I pause my hand on the door as I listen, hoping to catch the end of a conversation Enzo is having. Hopefully, a discussion that will give me answers.
But I don’t hear words.
Moans escape through the cracks in the door. Then panting.
Sounds I would only recognize in my dreams.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to keep the tears in my eyes. I manage to keep them on the edge of my eyelashes.
I shouldn’t be upset that Enzo is inside fucking a whore. He has every right. He’s not mine, and I don’t want him to be.
I just don’t like that he gets to experience any amusement after what he did to me.
My hand tightens again on the door handle. I should leave and find a man who might talk. I’m sure there are plenty of drunks around here that would be willing to spill Enzo’s secrets with the right persuasion. But I can’t. I’m too focused on what’s happening behind the door.
I turn the handle slowly and crack the door open. My eyes focus in on the dark room and the shadows moving on the lavish couch. Enzo and his whore don’t notice me.
Maybe Enzo does, but he doesn’t care that I’m watching.
I don’t have to step inside to see, I can see just fine through the dark slit in the door.
I see Enzo flip the woman over, spreading her legs wide, her ass in the air. He pushes his pants down and then sinks his cock inside her. He gathers her hair into a ponytail at the back of her head and pulls hard as he fucks her.
He’s brutal with his thrusts, just as I would expect. He doesn’t kiss her or caress her in any way. He takes what he wants without considering how it makes her feel—like a whore.
They both pant and moan as their naked, writhing bodies collide. I can hear their skin slapping together. His ass tightens as he pushes himself deeper inside.
“Sweet Jesus,” she moans.
