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She’d come to me.
But for now—business.
Shoving him into a chair, he grunted under the impact and sat dutifully still as cable ties were used to bind his wrists and ankles.
“What’s your name?” I barked.
“E… Eli.” He had stuttered but recovered himself. The squeak left his voice and was replaced with a deeper tone, which I’m certain was fake.
“What was your business at Darkside, Eli?”
Darkside was the club that had gone up in flames.
“I was just getting a drink,” he said.
The sound of my palm colliding with his cheek ricocheted around the room. None of my men flinched, and I wouldn’t expect them to. They had seen much worse than a simple slap across the face.
“What was your business at Darkside?” I repeated, mercifully giving him a moment to recover and straighten his back.
Eli coughed, no doubt covering a much less masculine sound of pain. “I was just… getting a drink.”
This time when I hit him, he went down. A backhand across his other cheek sent the chair he was tied to tipping over, and his shoulder collided with the floor, the soft carpet doing nothing to soften the sting of the blow. When he coughed again, blood and a tooth fell on the floor, and I rolled my eyes.
I should have put plastic down. I’d have to get one of the guys to deal with the stain later.
“Sven, get some plastic to put under this fucker’s chair. I don’t want blood on my carpet.”
Sven nodded as Eli’s eyes followed him desperately. “Wait, please!”
“What was your business at Darkside?”
“I was scalping business, okay! Selling drugs.”
“That’s my territory, Eli.” I kept my tone even, finding cool indifference to a human’s suffering was always more effective in growing their fear than responding with anger ever was.
“I know.I know,I’m sorry. The customer base is so good.”
“I know it is. I spent years making it that way. People want drugs, they come to my establishments… that’s no accident.” Leaning forward, I placed my hands on his forearms, letting my weight rest there and bringing my face close to his. “And you thought you could come in and take off the top of all my hard work?”
“I’m sorry, please.”
“You’re a handsome man, Eli.”
His pupils darted between the lenses of my glasses. I’ll bet he could see his own pale face reflected in them before he looked at each of the men around the room, unsure how to respond.
“I—”
“Maybe there’s something you can do to make it up to me.”
He trembled. I know he knew what I meant, and it was no accident the insinuation was there in my words. Yet when I had finished punishing him, I imagined he’dwishit had come down to me taking him to my bed.
“Please.”
Honestly, I expected him to sayanything, I’ll do anything.I liked it when people offered to doanythingto make up for their mistakes, even if those mistakes had been made with intent. Because I liked to watch their eyes widen when they realized thatanythingmight be worse than they imagined.Anythingmight be harder to take than they had hoped.
Eli cried out when—with a boot between his knees—I broke the chair, forcing my weight down until the wooden legs gave way, and his legs spread out in front of him. He continued to shout as I smashed the chair around him until only broken slats of wood were bound to his wrists and legs, but he was otherwise free, surrounded by the pieces of his former prison. The chair was by no means sturdy or expensive, but it still took particularly well-aimed force and strength to break it like that— something I had honed to perfection over the years. Humans had a way of imagining their head and body being in place of an inanimate object broken in front of them.
Pinning Eli to the floor, I crawled on top of him while he continued to look desperately at my men. Their expressions would be as stoic as mine, half of them I’m sure were staring disinterestedly at a wall. While they’d seen worse than what I was doing now, they’d never been in the room when I was fucking someone.
