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I sat at my massive mahogany desk, my eyes flickering around the screens in front of me. I watched all the people at the party having a good time and I made sure nothing disgusting or illegal befell any of them. After all, searching for my perfect submissive meant keeping an eye on all of them. I didn’t need anyone’s hands landing on the woman that would ultimately become mine.
I’d bought this warehouse and transformed it into the hottest BDSM club in the city. I spent my free weekends onsite, watching the feeds I set up in every single room. I was waiting for her. The woman of my dreams. The perfect submissive I’d been dying to sink my teeth into for years. I hadn’t found her yet. Out of all the encounters I’d had with the women that walked through those doors, I had yet to find the one for me.
The one I hunted for tirelessly.
While the pursuit of finding her haunted me.
The masquerade was tonight; the event everyone always turned out for. It was the biggest and most intense party of the year and, every year, I stood watching. Waiting. Everyone who wanted to dip their toes in this scene was always brought to this party and I was waiting for her to walk through those doors.
I had people come in and decorate the entire space. It was covered in red and gold, which was a striking juxtaposition to the black, white, and gray motif that always adorned the club. The massive space of the warehouse was divided into multiple sections, with three fully-stocked bars, a massive dance floor that was lined with cages to dance in, and play spaces as you meandered toward the back. There were your typical dungeons, a couple of rooms modeled after a Roman bath, a couple more spaces that were opulent and had walls lined with play toys.
Then, there were the private rooms. Those rooms were relegated for use only by the richest members of the club who could afford to rent them out. For those that could handle the hefty expense, they could rent the room out for the evening, or even two, if they preferred. They could escort their tantalizing treat for the evening into the fully-stocked roomed and, with the press of a button, they could lock it down from the outside world for up to a week.
I, of course, had my own private space, a room right across from my office. It was outfitted with every single pleasura
ble instrument found in this community.
I’d only ever taken one woman in there. A woman I thought was going to be the one for me.
But things don’t always pan out, I supposed.
I watched the screens intently. My white suit with its black collar clung to my sculpted body. I was watching the entrance as well as the dance floor, looking for her.
The woman that still didn’t have a name or a face.
My phone rang, interrupting my concentration, and I huffed. I picked up the phone and held it to my ear, listening to the voice talk on the other end of the line.
“Camillo? We got a problem. They’re coming into New York and buying up your properties.”
“Why am I just now learning about this?” I asked.
“Because I’m just now learning it. They’re buying up all the businesses that belonged to the Italians. You know, the ones we visited a few days ago.”
“The ones crumbling under the RICO investigation, I know,” I said. “Why the fuck are they buying them up?”
“I don’t know, but the moment I found out what they were doing, I called.”
“Thanks, brother, but I need more than just their actions,” I said. “I need their motive.”
“My guess is they’re doing it just to piss you off. They did what they did with your father, and now, they’re sticking it to you. I think they’re doing this simply for a laugh. Invading your territory to prove they can.”
“Wait… it’s the Del Vecchio family?” I asked.
There was a string of crumbling Italian businesses that had been tanked because of a racketeering investigation the FBI rained down on the neighborhood. I grew up on those streets. I knew those faces. I knew how scared they were and how their livelihoods were in the toilet. I went around to them and promised them I’d purchase their businesses, breathe life back into their neighborhoods and homes without asking for any disgusting favors in return.
But this family—the Del Vecchio Family—brought my attention back to the past. They killed my father. Put out a hit on him because they thought taking him out meant taking his property. They didn’t realize he was grooming me to take his place. They didn’t realize he’d already transferred many of his assets into my name already.
And now they were making a statement.
It didn’t matter that my father had slaughtered most of the Del Vecchio’s friends. What mattered was that they killed my father when I was only a teenager. The only reason my father killed the head of the Del Vecchio clan was because they were behind my mother’s death.
At least, that’s what my father believed. And no one ever questioned my father.
Ever.
For years, I’d been working on rooting out the rest of this damn family. I’d had some of them killed and some of them thrown in jail. I had some of them take the fall for crimes I’d committed in order to get more information on their growing empire. Piece by piece, I was building the underground kingdom my father had always wanted and I was chipping away at theirs in the process.
But, like a hydra, the moment I cut off one of their heads, two more would grow back.
