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Nothing about the room itself bothered me. The apparatuses located along the entire length of one wall did. I’d been sheltered most of my life, a simple girl who’d been forced into learning skills I’d never dreamed of. And I’d become an expert in many of them, including several forms of martial arts and weaponry, including crossbows and even the effect of poisons on the human body. That had taken me months of training and researching, immersing myself into an entirely different lifestyle. I’d honed my muscles as well as my mind in preparation of exacting my code of revenge.
But as I stood here today staring at expensive wood and steel, crosses and benches, tables and other items that I’d never seen before and hadn’t shown up on my research, I realized I was possibly in over my head. However, there was no turning back. Not now.
Not ever.
I came here to do a job and that’s exactly what I was going to do.
On the day my savings account had blown up by a deposit I hadn’t expected or hadn’t earned, I’d been driven into utter darkness. It was blood money and nothing more. At least I’d been able to use a small portion to act on my plan.
After tonight, I’d be in the wind.
Or dead.
Time ticked by, my anxiety increasing. A man like Alexander Durante always took what he wanted. Now he was making me wait, adding to what he hoped was sick anticipation and even fear of the powerful man. I’d researched him for months, learning as much about the cold, merciless killer as possible. What I hadn’t expected was how electrifying the experience of meeting him would be. Even now, my nipples remained hard just thinking about him.
He was gorgeous, the kind of man who should grace fashion magazines. He was rugged, every muscle sculpted from the finest stone. Even more impressive was the way he carried himself. He owned every room he walked into within two seconds. He didn’t have to brandish a weapon or raise his voice. He simply… arrived.
Another five then ten minutes passed and still he hadn’t shown. How long did the fucker think he was keeping me locked away? Until the club closed? I hadn’t thought about that possibility. What if he’d discovered who I was? I bit my lower lip, shoving away the trepidation and increasing fear.Remember, you’re Dahlia.
The moment I heard the lock disengaging, I took another deep breath. This time, the echo was nonexistent. A smile crossed my face and I ignored whoever was entering the room. As soon as the person walked inside, there was no mistaking his identity. His exotic scent, one full of testosterone and the combination of exotic spices and freshly cut timber gave him away.
Alexander said nothing as he closed the door, the lock refastened. Then he advanced, but he left a significant distance between us. I shifted slightly, ensuring I could ascertain what he had planned, even though I refused to look at him directly.
After a few seconds of silence, I heard him ease onto one of the chairs or couches in the room, watching me. I didn’t have to ask to know what he was thinking or planning.
He wanted to break me.
All men like him did.
It was as if lording their sexual prowess over women gave them an advantage, another notch on the powerful totem pole, every man seeking Top Dog status. I continued to ignore him, opening one of the cabinets and brushing my fingers down several of the canes. The lump remained in my throat, but I was able to breathe easily. I knew what almost every implement was.
Almost.
However, seeing the bullwhips coiled on a thick steel rod did provide more than a few seconds of angst. I wasn’t into pain. There was no threshold I could fall back on. If he used one of those on me, I might lose my cool, exposing my real identity. Dear God. That couldn’t happen. I recoiled and I knew the instant I did, he’d noticed.
A slight chuckle oozed from his rosy red lips, the sound dark and ominous, but one full of seduction. “You are a fascinating woman, Dahlia. More so than most. Why don’t you come and join me?” His words weren’t a question but were a demand, an order he required to be followed.
I continued to ignore him, moving to one of the benches and doing everything I could not to show any reaction. The leather straps attached to the slats were thick, preventing any movement. I was lightheaded, uncertain I could go through with what I had planned. And I had to. I just had to do this. There was no other way of getting close to the man.
“Dahlia. I’m not going to ask you again. Join me or you will not like the consequences.”
I still counted to ten before I turned around to face him. He’d removed his jacket, his white shirt drawing my attention. It remained wet from the drink, which forced me to bite back a smile. I’d seen him on the first day I’d started training, wearing an almost identical charcoal gray suit and crisp white shirt, his choice of bold ties making a statement. There wasn’t a single person in the club who didn’t understand that he was the man in charge.
He’d rolled up his sleeves, unfastening several buttons on the front of his shirt, both actions exposing his muscular arms and chest. As he leaned against the couch, he appeared comfortable in his own skin, one arm tossed over the back, the other holding a drink. His legs were wide open and even from where I stood, I could tell he was fully aroused, the hefty ridge of his cock pressing against his expensive trousers. I should be repulsed, but I was drawn to his chiseled face and strong jaw. He’d exposed a single tattoo on his forearm, the colorful ink the design I remembered, as I’d dreamed about it more than once.
He was different from the person I’d met years before, more self-assured. He commanded an army now when he’d only directed a pack of boys before. It was obvious he believed he was a god.
The colorful tattoo was the same one that haunted my dreams, preventing me from getting a good night’s sleep for almost a year. And he wore it proudly, announcing his former membership into an elite club as if wearing a badge of honor.
The Wild Boys.
The dragon with piercing red eyes highlighted pure elitism and sanctimonious power. I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off it, the same tic forming in the corner of my mouth but this time out of rage.
He followed my gaze, smirking when he realized what I was staring at.
“A sign of power,” he mused.
“Or of weakness.” I was more daring than I should be, but at this point, I had little to lose.
