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I’d been afraid before Giovanni gazed at me. Terrified. But seeing the fury and absolute purpose in his expression centered me.
I had to do this. Whatever they required of me, I would do without a fight. Because with one glimpse, I could see he would fight his way through hell for both of us, and he would lose.
Even the hottest MMA fighter on the underground scene was no match for five men with guns in their waistbands.
“Gio,” I said again, making him look at me. When our gazes connected again, I tried to tell him with only my expression that it was okay. I was okay. Whatever happened, we would get through it if he only played the game.
He shook his head almost imperceptibly, his jaw going tight. Then he glanced at Marco.
Marco, who had been so sweet to me all the nights leading up to this one. He’d taken me for a fool, and I’d done the role justice.
“What is this?” Giovanni asked, voice low. I could see his massive hands coiling like snakes ready to spring in his pockets. He said something in Italian, and the men on either side of me chuckled and took another couple glances down my shirt.
My skin had never crawled when I was in my cage, but it was now. I was beginning to think there wouldn’t ever be enough hot water to get me clean again.
“Come now, she’s pretty, Gio. And don’t pretend as if you don’t know each other.” The jerk on my right—the one I’d used as a chew toy—ran his red, abraded thumb over my cleavage and Gio growled, deep in his throat. “See, that’s better. What we expected from you, after these.”
He nodded at the asshole on my other side and he produced an attaché case, from which he drew out a folder. He laid it on the table before us and spread it open, revealing black and white pictures of the night that had started all of this.
The night I’d followed Giovanni to The Pyramid Club after one of his fights, and he’d decided to demonstrate to me in vivid Technicolor just how much he didn’t want me.
But that was after. Before he’d pushed me away for good, we’d had a moment, one captured in those grainy photos. Gio shoving me against the wall, leaning against me with his arm above my head and his mouth a whisper away. His hard cock had pressed against the triangle between my thighs, making me wetter than I’d ever been in my life, before or since.
Then he’d gotten a blowjob from another girl while I stood outside the room and wished he would die.
“What is that?” He looked at the pictures and dismissed them with little more than a glance, while I still hadn’t managed to stop hyperventilating that someone had seen us. Many someones, judging from the amount of men in this room. “So what? She’s a hot piece. She wanted it, but I didn’t. She’s not my fucking type.”
“Aw, Gio, that’s no way to talk about a lovely lady sitting just a few feet away.” Marco tsk tsked under his breath. “We thought we’d give you a chance to give her what the lady so clearly wanted, but if you’re not interested…” His hand dropped to his belt and the cry that left me was entirely involuntary and filled with revulsion.
I’d rubbed against him tonight. Teased him, taunted him with my body and what I wouldn’t give him. Now he would take it, no matter how I pleaded for the mercy he clearly didn’t possess.
The momentary enjoyment I’d taken from his interest would haunt me for the rest of my life.
“No.” Gio’s voice was a whip, lethally sharp. “You aren’t to touch her.”
Almost as if a switch had been flipped, Marco’s hand fell away from his belt. “I understand. You want her for yourself. As she wants you.”
“No. She doesn’t want any part of this. She’s going to leave.” He looked at me, his jaw so tense I wondered how he could speak. “Let her out of the booth. Now.”
To my utter shock, the guy on my left obediently slid out of the booth. I hesitated, sure it was a trick. Then I scrambled across the smooth leather, the clammy backs of my thighs sticking to the material. I ripped them free and stood unsteadily, unsure what to do next. No way was I walking out of there if Gio wasn’t at my side.
Even if I’d heard him say something that horrified me down deep.
“It’s an honor to get the opportunity to enjoy the fruits of your labor.”
From what I’d overheard, he was one of them—or about to be. It wasn’t too much of a leap to guess they were with the mob. I’d pretty much decided it before tonight, and while that possibility skeeved me out, it wasn’t my business. I was just a dumb little culinary student who shook her tits for tuitio
n and attention.
Not anymore.
Before I could try to catch Gio’s eye again, I was shoved hard from behind and sent sprawling across the table. It surprised me more than hurt, though I bumped my lower lip against the edge. My skirt was flipped up, and hands sculpted my flesh. Greedy hands.
“Goddammit, no. Get your filthy hands off her.”
Giovanni’s harsh command made me whip my head around in time to see him take a swing at the groper, who I surmised to be the guy who’d let me out of the booth. In an instant, Gio’s arms were pinned behind his back, and he struggled against the men who kept him caged. His muscles bulged, on the verge of ripping the sleeves of his shirt. I hated that I noticed that even while I was sprawled on my belly in front of six men.
You’re used to being looked at next to naked. You like it. Stop pretending you don’t.
