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A pair of plush towels hangs from a gold bar, and a selection of designer toiletries lines the marble shelf. I ignore them, turning my attention back to the task at hand.
“One minute, Luca.”
I unclasp the holster from inside my bag and strap it securely to my upper thigh. The cold touch of the gun against my skin serves as a chilling reminder of the weight of my mission. My attire hides it well, the thigh holster sitting snugly beneath the sleek fabric of my dress.
Taking a deep breath, I open the bathroom door and return to Luca, who’s waiting with a smile and a pair of what look like furry handcuffs in his hand.
“There you are,bellissima.”
He’s completely unaware of the cold steel concealed beneath my dress as I stride towards him.
“Here I am, Luca Vitori.”
He smiles lasciviously at me. “I don’t think I told you my second name Marcia?”
“Well, you are a popular man. Everyone knows your name,” I stroke his ego. Then I add, “So, where were we?”
I have just reached the edge of the bed when he places his hand on my ass and pulls me in.
“You were about to suck my cock.”
I smile down at him. “I would want nothing more. Lie down.”
He wants to argue, but judging by his dress pants, he is too horny to actually go through with it, so slowly, he props himself against the pillows.
I unbutton his shirt slowly, dragging my nails over his defined muscles. His body is well honed and I know I have to work my charm on him. If Luca wanted to overpower me right now, he would definitely have the upper hand.
I unzip his pants dipping my hand into them to cup his balls. He hisses in pleasure. His head is thrown back and I can see the smooth expanse of his throat. God. It would feel great to dig a knife into that, watching his blood spurt and stain the sheets red.
But that would be too messy, a lesson I had to learn the hard way when I stabbed Dante Cenere. He had squirmed a lot as I watched the blood drain from him.
Instead, I straddle his waist. His dark eyes trailing my every movement. I reach out and lick his throat as my other hand takes the handcuffs from his hand.
“What are-” but he cuts himself off when I roll my hips. His hips flex seeking me out. Just how I want him.
I am nipping at his jaw as I lock his hand and then wrap the handcuff through a gap in the headboard to tie his other hand. He flexes his hands realizing that he cannot move.
Perfect.
I roll my hips once more making him groan. The sound makes my chest clench in disgust.
“Piccola troia,”he says. I did not catch the rest but I am pretty suretroiameans slut.
The fucking audacity.
“I am not a slut,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Ah, she speaks Italian after all.”
I lift my dress and pull the gun from the holster, “No Luca, I speak revenge.”
His gaze skirts from me to the gun in my hand. I can see the moment fear materializes in his eyes. “What are you doing?” he asks, his Italian accent heavier than before.
Oh, he is scared now.
“Not much. I just have a few questions for you.”
He twists his hands, panic crossing his face as he realizes the precarious position I have got him in now.
