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Raoul nods back at him and moves us through the entrance. The place is stunning inside, much classier than any of the clubs Fabian and his family own. I notice Ludo moving on ahead of us, nodding to various men who are positioned around the room.
The walls surrounding us are made of glass and filled with water bubbles that light up different colors. The floor is also glass, and I look under my feet down at the fish swimming below us.
“Does the noise not affect them?” I shout out to Raoul over the loud thumping music.
“Soundproof glass,” he assures me, his hand tightening around mine as he leads us up the stairs into the VIP section.
“Well don’t you just look like the hottest chick in town.” Claude bounds toward us and drags me onto his body.
“Raoul.” He smiles coyly over my shoulder as he pulls himself away from me.
“I have some people I need to speak to,” Raoul says into my ear. “Why don’t you get a drink with Claude, while I deal with some business.”
“Sure.” I smile, letting Claude lead me over to the bar where all his friends are.
I don’t know how long Raoul spends talking in his booth with the three men in suits, but I feel his eyes burning me while I knock back champagne with Claude and his friends. They are all just as loud and crazy as Claude, and it doesn’t take long for me to feel completely at ease with them.
When Claude brings over a tray of tequila shots, I notice Raoul’s eyes narrow in on me from across the room, the look he gives, daring me to knock it back. So I toast it to him before I throw it down my neck, then enjoy swaying to the music and laughing with Claude and his friends. It’s not until after another round of shots that I feel a sharp tap on my shoulder.
“Raoul says you need to drink this.” Ludo shoves a glass of iced water under my nose.
“He did, huh?” I snigger back at the miserable old coot.
“Yes,” he urges me to take the glass again. How dare Raoul think he can judge my limits, I’m a twenty-five-year-old woman for Christ’s sake. Just because he and his friends look like they are organizing a funeral, doesn’t mean I shouldn't be having fun with my new ones.
“Excuse me.” I turn my head to Claude and his friends before stalking across the room to where Raoul is smoking a cigar.
He slides his arms across the back of his seat, relaxing with a smile as I approach him, then I watch his smile suddenly morph to shock when I stop in front of him and tip the glass I’m carrying onto his lap. His eyes switch to a pure fucking rage that has me instantly regretting my actions.
“Excuse me.” Raoul turns his head calmly toward his shocked-looking friends, slowly rising onto his feet and then grabbing a fist full of hair from the back of my head to tug me closer.
“You are going to regret that,” he warns, his lips moving tight against my cheek. Fear and thrill spark beneath my skin when his hips push into mine, stepping me backward until I’m pinned against the nearest wall. This is his territory, and it’s clear he doesn’t give a shit who sees what he’s about to do to me. Nerves spread across my stomach when the seriousness of what I’ve done starts to sink in.
I’ve just made a fool of Raoul Burlusconi, in a very public place, and there is no way I’m going to get away with it.
The wall behind me suddenly moves and I feel myself go with it as Raoul's body presses tightly against mine. We’ve come through some kind of hidden door, and now I find myself in a long, narrow corridor with low running pipes above our heads. When he kicks the door shut behind him it drowns out the noise of the club, and he rests his hand around my throat, forcing me against the cold, damp wall.
“You just disrespected me in front of some important people.” His eyes seethe into mine and I notice his chest rising and falling like he’s trying to calm himself. His grip on me tightens to the point of choking, but I still manage to keep the fear from my face.
“I know my limits, Raoul,” I stand up for myself. Yes, my actions were a little brash, blame that on the tequila, but I’m not a child.
“You have no idea of your limitations.” The rage in his eyes sets a fire in my belly.
How the hell can anger look so desirable?
He shocks me when his free hand starts to fumble with his belt and releases himself from his slacks. The thick head of his cock brushing over the sequins of my dress as he drops his head and sinks his teeth into my collar bone.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard, I’m going to have to carry you out of here,” he warns, pushing my dress up over my ass and hooking his finger into my panties. He tugs the lace away from my body, then releases them with a cold, sharp sting that snaps against my sensitive flesh and sends a jolt through my body.
“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.” His teeth graze my jaw, and as he pushes his full length inside me, the gasp I make echoes around the walls confining us.
Raoul uses the full power of his body to thrust into me, his hand remaining firm around my neck, and his eyes holding mine as every forceful thud he makes inside me pushes me closer and closer to the edge.
“Don’t you dare come,” he warns, his eyes still penetrating rage, and I gulp back the desperation that’s building inside me.
This is the real Raoul Burlusconi, merciless, ruthless, and there’s nothing that can protect me from him.
I watch the sweat form on his forehead as he pumps harder, the anger in his eyes now blazing with pleasure as he gets off on my suffering, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip.
