Page 26 of Capo

Nine

Luciano

I’m distracted through dinner. My mind is pulled in two different directions. The girl in my little play chamber, and the fucking weasel who’s locked up a few rooms away. I listen with half an ear to the conversations around me, answer when appropriate, but my cock is semi-hard the whole dinner at the thought of first having a go at Mr. Jones, and then taking a look at my captive. She’s pretty fucking damaged, and I can’t really play with her yet, but I can push her, condition her, drag her down to the edge of sanity and keep her balancing there until she’s clay in my hands.

Ivan’s gaze seeks mine during dessert and I give him an almost invisible nod. Jones has been locked up for four hours. It’s time.

“Gentlemen,” I say as I stand. “My bar is open, as always. Help yourselves to a good time. I’m off for another kind of good time.”

Several leery grins tell me they have an idea what I’m talking about. Ivan stands too, wipes his mouth, drops the napkin on the plate and moves around the table. One of the men glances warily at him and I narrow my eyes. Joachim. What reason does he have to worry about Ivan moving behind his back? We’ll look into that. I curl my lips as I stride out of the dining room. There’s always something.

“Boss,” says Ivan, “what are we doing with him? He said he’s got the money.”

“Cash?”

“I don’t know this.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “He’ll learn not to be late for meetings.”

“Are we offing him?”

I shake my head. “Not if he has the money.” Nodding to the door, I motion for Ivan to unlock it.

“Devon,” I exclaim and slam my palms together. “What a pleasant surprise!”

Devon Jones looks as if he’s swallowed a lemon spiced up with capsaicin. His face is flushed, the corners of his mouth pulled down to his knees, and he paces back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists. When he sees us, he explodes.

“What the fuck, man? I’ve been fucking locked up for hours! I need to pee. You have no fucking right to treat me like this.”

I raise an eyebrow, amused. “Brave words, Devon.”

Devon flinches and looks behind me as Ivan locks the door and walks up to stand a step behind my left shoulder. The weasel’s eyes dart between us and he looks less furious and more twitchy.

“I hear you have the money.”

“Yeah, man.”

“Cash?”

“Fifty-five thou? I don’t think so.”

“Fair enough. Transfer it.”

Devon glances around him at the almost empty room. In the center stands a desk and a chair. I motion for Ivan to go ahead and watch as he unlocks a drawer and pulls out a laptop.

“Sit,” he growls.

I cross my arms over my chest as Devon, with a glance at me, hesitantly sits down in front of the laptop as it chimes to life. Ivan taps at it, then Devon for a long while, then Ivan. I’m present in body and mind, but annoyingly unfocused. Another kind of game calls for me. A new game. A naked and bruised girl in the basement.

Needing this to be over with, I clench my hands into fists and crack my knuckles. Devon flinches and his eyes dart up to meet mine. I keep my face neutral, impassive. Beads of sweat pearl at his hairline and the sadist in me flares to life. He’s weak, showing his fear. This is the fucking reason I get up in the morning. This is what I live for. Power. Ivan gives me a glance and a barely-there nod, then he closes the laptop. We’re done. Devon leans back and dares a smile, sighing with obvious relief.

“Well, that concludes our business,” I say and step aside, as if to let him pass. Devon looks between Ivan and me and rises slowly. It’s as if he can’t believe his luck. He’s right to doubt it.

Ivan hauls up the key to the door out of his pocket and Devon puts his hand on the doorknob. He freezes as I speak.

“How come you were late?”

He widens his eyes. “I, eh…” He rubs his nose and licks his lips. “I had some last-minute arrangements.”

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