Page 5 of The Brat's Bargain

"It's quite simple, really," Damien said, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "I'm prepared to clear your gambling debts. All of them. In exchange, you work for me."

Antonio's eyes narrowed. "Work for you how, exactly?"

A slow, predatory smile spread across Damien's face. "Oh, nothing too taxing. Run some errands. Attend some meetings. Be a pretty decoration on my arm when needed."

He leaned forward, voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent heat pooling in Antonio's gut. "And of course, you'll need to be on call to attend to my more... personal needs."

Antonio's breath caught as the implication sank in. "You—you can't be serious. I'm not some whore you can just?—"

"Whore?" Damien's eyes flashed dangerously. "Oh no, sweetheart. You misunderstand. I'm offering you a position of privilege. My personal companion, under my protection. Do you have any idea how many would kill to be in your shoes?"

Antonio's mind reeled. This couldn't be happening. And yet... the thought of being owned by this man, controlled by him, sent a forbidden thrill through his body.

"How long?" he managed to croak out.

"Until I decide I'm satisfied," Damien replied, his gaze raking over Antonio's body in a way that left him feeling exposed. "Could be a week, could be a year. But don't worry, pet. I'll take such good care of you."

Antonio knew he should refuse. Should tell Damien to go to hell and face the consequences of his actions like a man. But as those icy blue eyes bored into him, filled with dark promise, he found his resolve wavering.

"And if I say no?" he asked, hating how breathless he sounded.

Damien's smile was cold. "Then I drop you back off at Rizzo's warehouse and wash my hands of the whole affair. I'm sure your mother will be more than happy to bail you out... assuming there's anything left of you to save."

Antonio's stomach churned. He was trapped, caught between the devil he knew and the one he didn't. But at least with Damien, he stood a chance of making it out alive.

"Alright," he whispered, the words tasting like ash on his tongue. "I'll do it."

Damien's eyes lit up with triumph. "Excellent choice, pet. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership."

He rose gracefully to his feet, extending a hand to Antonio. "Now, why don't we get you cleaned up? Can't have my new toy looking worse for wear, after all."

As Antonio took Damien's hand, allowing himself to be led towards what he assumed was the master suite, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just made a deal with the devil himself.

The bathroom was a marvel of marble and chrome, easily the size of Antonio's entire apartment. A massive walk-in shower dominated one wall, while a sunken tub big enough for a small orgy took up another corner.

"Strip," Damien ordered, his voice brooking no argument.

Antonio hesitated, suddenly self-conscious. It was ridiculous—he'd never been shy about his body before. But something about Damien's intense gaze made him feel exposed in a way he'd never experienced.

"Now, pet," Damien growled, a dangerous edge to his voice. "Or do I need to help you?"

The threat sent a shiver down Antonio's spine, equal parts fear and something he didn't want to examine too closely. With trembling hands, he began to undress, wincing as the movement pulled at his bruised ribs.

Damien's eyes never left him, drinking in every inch of revealed skin with predatory hunger. When Antonio stood naked before him, he circled slowly, appraising him like a prized stallion at auction.

"Beautiful," Damien murmured, one large hand coming to rest on the small of Antonio's back. "Even battered and bruised, you're exquisite."

Antonio's cheeks burned, caught between preening under the praise and bristling at being treated like property. "Glad I meet your exacting standards," he snarked, unable to help himself.

Damien's grip tightened, not quite painful but a clear warning. "That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble, pet. But we'll work on that."

Before Antonio could retort, Damien was guiding him into the shower. Hot water cascaded over them both, steam rising in billowing clouds. Antonio bit back a moan as the heat soothed his aching muscles.

"Let me take care of you," Damien said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. He poured some expensive-smelling body wash onto a loofah and began to clean Antonio with surprising tenderness.

Antonio's body thrummed with tension, hyperaware of every point of contact between them. Damien's hands were careful around his bruises, but there was no mistaking the possessive nature of his touch. He was marking his territory, claiming Antonio inch by inch.

"Why are you doing this?" Antonio asked, his voice barely audible over the rush of water. "Why me?"

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