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The moans coming out of Viola become sharper and louder. I don’t have to be touching her to know she’s close. Her head falls back, her luxurious dark hair a cascade I want to run my fingers through. Her body tenses as her mouth falls open in a silent scream.
Mateo lets out a primal sound and clutches the woman closer, as if he won’t be letting her go anytime soon. They’re locked together as their bodies shudder.
When Viola goes limp, Mateo grunts softly and lays her down on the bed after pulling his spent cock from her depths.
He was right, he definitely made her messier. I can barely contain my grin.
Even as we get dressed and walk out, although it’s the last thing I want to do, I know this isn’t the last time we’ll see her. My brothers might not realize it, but she’s the endgame. Not power. Not money. It’s her and it always has been.
“Keep following her,” Mateo grits out through his teeth when we go our separate ways at the front door of Club Sin.
There’s a hint of humor in Marco’s voice, “For leverage?”
Mateo doesn’t say anything in response. His silence is deafening, and it has me sharing a look with my middle brother. It’s a whole lot more than leverage.
CHAPTER 5
VIOLA
It’s been a few days since I woke up in the bed of Room Five alone and disoriented. As my eyes blinked open, thankfully not covered by a blindfold, everything came rushing back. Going to Club Sin with Fleur, being invited to a room, the triplets, and their deal.
My body had that delicious ache, the one which told me I had thoroughly enjoyed myself. What I didn’t like was the small empty feeling in the pit of my stomach at waking up alone. It wasn’t right.
At first, it made me feel small, but then the longer it set in, it started to morph into anger. It might have been worth it to keep my secret, but I’m not going to be all smiles and niceties the next time I come across the Falsini triplets. When we might cross paths again, I have no idea, but they’re on my shit list as of right now.
They didn’t even leave me a note. If it had just been Mateo, I wouldn’t have been surprised, but I thought Massimo was sweeter and more considerate than that. I should have known better.
Waking up alone also made me feel cheap, something I hadn’t experienced within the walls of Club Sin before. I had engaged in play since I became a member, but none of it made me feel like a whore until the time I spent in Room Five.
I got dressed, righted myself as best I could and then walked downstairs to the lobby floor with my head held high because I refused to do anything less. Even if inside I was breaking a little.
There were a few moments, when I was in the arms of the triplets, that I thought we had…something. I’m even more afraid of putting words to what I thought was between us with every day that passes since that night, but I don’t think I imagined it.
Or maybe I did, and it was all just endorphins and sexual chemistry.
Who the fuck knows. All I know is that they better watch out because I won’t be listening to any negotiation bullshit the next time I see them. They’ll be lucky to walk away with their balls still attached.
When I hit the lounge on the ground floor, I was thankful as fuck to see Fleur there, her hair mussed as she glowed with a look of being freshly fucked. I wrapped my arm through hers and we walked out of the club together.
She leaned into me and whispered, “Where were you? I was starting to get worried.”
I hissed, trying to keep the sadness creeping in out of my voice, “I don’t want to talk about it.” She tensed and I added, gentler, “I’m fine. It wasn’t anything bad. The club is safe, you know that.”
She nodded and then she let it go, allowing us to ride in silence. It was probably a bad idea because it allowed me to stew in my thoughts. Some of them went to a violent place involving putting three cocks in cages which the triplets would find very uncomfortable.
Days later I’m still pissed, but I don’t necessarily want to dance on their entrails with my highest stilettos. It’s an improvement.
This morning when I got up, I couldn’t force myself to follow through with the appearances of my life, the ones which paint me as some shopaholic who doesn’t care about anything but myself. Being self-centered for the public is exhausting, not that I have room to complain about anything. I know I don’t.
I’ve been watching mindless television without a hint of shame, and I don’t see my plans changing for the rest of the day. I’m not even paying attention when my phone rings, assuming it’s Fleur, I answer without really looking away from the big home décor reveal on the flat screen in front of me.
“I’m not in the mood to leave my couch today,” are the first words out of my mouth when I answer.
The male chuckle on the other end of the line has me sitting up straight and lunging for the remote to mute it. I only fumble it once, which is a win as far as I’m concerned.
“Princess,” the amused voice on the other end of the line has me narrowing my eyes in my empty living room, “I hope we can entice you to leave the couch.”
“Marco,” I hiss. I don’t even know how or why I know it’s him and not one of the other two assholes. “Fuck off,” my voice is flat.
