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“Raphy, I feel funny,” she whispers as we leave the bar, her head lolling against my shoulder.
“Sir, is the lady okay?” asks the tall, suited man on the door. I frown at him. It’s the same man who was watching us before. He must just be staff.
“My wife’s fine,” I answer tersely. I’m holding Cece closely to me, one arm round her waist, keeping her upright. The aphrodisiac is starting to take effect. She’s just a bit dizzy but by the time we’re in the hotel room in a few minutes she’ll be all over me, begging me to fuck her. My dick’s already twitching just thinking about it.
In contrast to the nosy doorman at the bar, the bored kid behind the hotel’s reception desk barely glances at us as I check us in as Mr. and Mrs. Lombardi, even though I’m clutching Cecelia as tightly and rigidly as a ventriloquist’s dummy. I encourage her towards the lobby lift and once we reach our floor, I pick her up and carry her along the corridor to our room like a groom carrying his bride, exactly how I’d planned to anyway.
I place her gently on the bed, drop her bag on the floor and gaze down at her confused face. It’s a face as familiar to me as my own and I feel a pang of regret that this is how our first time will be, rather than wholeheartedly consensual and reciprocal as I had imagined. Then, as quickly as a badly edited scene change in a movie, I remember her reaction to my proposal in the bar, the notion of becoming my wife so ludicrous to her that she laughed in my face, and I feel a dark fist of fury clench in my gut. She’s caused this. If she had just given herself to me willingly, I wouldn’t have been forced to drug her. As soon as it kicks in properly, I’m going to enjoy every part of her. But now, I think, as I take the black ties out of my pocket, it’s time to prepare.
Ten
MICHAEL
The busyness of the restaurant provides a welcome distraction while I wait for news of Lombardi. I don’t know yet whether Cecelia is his guest at Cinque Anni tonight, but I will do soon enough. She has filled my every waking thought since I saw her last week and I’m currently entertaining myself with visions of her getting ready and dressing for a night out, imagining her bathing and applying make-up and then choosing what to wear…
I feel my dick harden at the thought of her slipping on a black lacy bra, her breasts still visible beneath the sheer material. I cross my office and lock the door, belt and trouser buttons already undone by the time I sit back down on the couch. I push my hand into my boxers, my erect penis springing free. I start to stroke it, one eye on the door praying that nobody knocks, wanting to revel in my fantasy of Cece. I imagine her touching herself too, inside her lace panties, right there on the table in front of me, as she gazes boldly into my eyes, both of us pleasuring ourselves unashamedly. My hand speeds up as in my mind’s eye I watch her widen her legs and arch her back, her breath thick and fast as she brings herself to a shuddering climax. Seeing that I’m close too, she falls to her knees and takes me in her mouth, her wet, warm tongue causing me to spasm and groan as I come. I screw my eyes shut as I actually do, my semen spurting out onto my fisted hand in a delicious feeling of release.
I clean myself up in the bathroom concealed at the back of the office, feeling slightly calmer. Going back through to unlock the door, my phone rings and I look down at the caller display. It’s Gianni.
“Boss, he’s arrived at the bar, and he is with Miss DeMarco.”
I sigh with frustration as the calmness evaporates. It’s exactly what I expected but now it’s been confirmed, the bad feeling I had about Lombardi intensifies. I run a hand down my jaw. “Thanks, Gi. Keep me updated.”
“Will do.”
A few hours later after a couple of texts in the interim, another call comes through from Gianni informing me that he’s just seen Lombardi leaving the bar with Cecelia.
“She didn’t look right to me, boss,” he says. “Seemed like she was drugged or something. And he called her his wife.”
“Drugged?” I ask, incredulous. We have a zero-tolerance drug policy at the bar so if he has drugged her, it was a premeditated move. That prick is supposed to be her friend! Fury consumes me as I think about him intentionally deceiving Cecelia or causing her harm.
I tell Gianni to follow them, then I exit my office, inform Lorenzo I’m leaving the restaurant, and head out. I need to get to Cece as quickly as possible.
I scan the streets as I drive closer to the bar, a hundred terrible scenarios flashing through my mind, my gut instinct screaming at me that Lombardi’s bad news. Gianni sends a text telling me they’ve gone into a hotel a few streets away from the bar and as soon as I get there I pull up, abandoning the car outside.
Gianni and I storm inside.
“Have you seen this man?” I ask the kid on the desk as Gianni brings up an image of Lombardi on his phone and holds it up to the kid’s face.
The kid squints at it then shrugs. “I dunno.”
I rake a hand through my hair. Every minute we waste down here is another minute Lombardi’s alone with Cece.
“Do you have any room reservations under the name of Lombardi?” I ask.
The kid looks at me nonplussed. “Bookings are confidential. I can’t give out that information, man.”
Man? I look at Gianni and I can tell he knows I’m about to lose it. He pulls out a wad of notes from his suit jacket and throws them on the reception desk.
“Just tell us what room, kid, and save yourself a lot of trouble.”
The kid looks at the notes then at both of us. He reaches out his hand, picks up the notes and slowly stuffs them in his pocket, still not saying anything, a cocksure smirk on his face. I don’t think he realizes who he’s messing with.
“Where the fuck is he?” I shout, losing my patience and pulling out my gun. It’s not loaded but the kid doesn’t know that.
He recoils in shock, eyes bulging, finally taking the situation seriously. Gianni side-eyes me then directs his attention back to the kid.
“Your cooperation would be much appreciated,” he states. “And a door key.”
