Page 34 of Empire of Temptation

“I’m not paying my tab, asshole,” one of them grumbled as he put his beer bottle on the bar.

Did he think I cared? “Get the fuck out.”

The group shuffled out the front door. I continued working my way down the bar, through the other clusters of men, telling each the same thing. Nothing overly dramatic or violent, but I made it clear that leaving was in their best interest. They complained, clearlydisappointed to miss out on drunk pussy, but the groups steadily trickled outside.

Only one man gave me resistance. So I bent his pinky finger back until it almost broke—and he quickly left.

“Hey, what the fuck?” The bartender watched the last group of customers disappear. “They still owe money on their tabs.”

“How much?”

“A grand, at least. And you let them leave without paying!”

I withdrew a money clip from my pocket and peeled off two thousand dollars. “There. Now, get out. You’re done for the night.”

“But I’m supposed to?—”

I put my hands on the bar, leaned over, and gave him a look that had caused grown men to piss themselves. “Fuck off before I remember that you were helping these assholes prey on drunk women. Because if I remember, I might be tempted to slam your face into the mirror behind you. Capisce?”

Paling, he untied his apron, took the money and disappeared into the kitchen.

I exhaled, turned, and leaned my back against the bar. The room had gone deathly silent. All the book club ladies were staring at me with their mouths agape, including Valentina.

“Holy . . . shit,” one of the women said under her breath.

I tilted my head in greeting. “Buona sera, signorine.”

“Luca.” Valentina stood and I got a full view of her. She wore a tight sweater that showed off her tits and black pants that hugged her hips. I was momentarily distracted until she tried to take a step forward and stumbled.

“Whoa,” she chuckled, putting her hand on the table to steady herself.

In a flash I was by her side, taking her elbow and helping her back into her chair. “Valentina, sit down.”

“Did he just call Val Valentina?” one of the women loudly whispered to another.

“My god, that accent.”

“Uh, Val, shouldn’t you introduce us?”

I ignored all the voices and concentrated on Valentina. There were a dozen bottles of wine on the table, but no food. Or books. “Here, drink this.” I handed her a glass of water. “No more wine.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes,Luca.”

Dio, that attitude. It made me want to fuck her and spank her and bend her to my will.

“Val, this isn’t . . .” Two of the young women exchanged worried glances. “Is this your father?”

“No!” Val sounded horrified. “God, no. This is Mr. DiMarco.”

“Ooooh, now I get it,” said a woman, who looked at Valentina and mouthed,Investor Daddy.

Madre di dio. I dragged a hand over my jaw and willed my body to calm down. My dick would be half-hard if I let this continue. “Get your things,” I told Val. “I’m taking you home.”

“No, I have to stay and lock up.” She was weaving in her chair. “Shit, the room is spinning.”

I didn’t hesitate. I needed to get her out of here and help sober her up. Bending, I slipped my arm under her knees and put the other behind her back. I lifted her easily and she threw her arms around my neck.

“Oh, my god,” one of the women said, but I was focused on Valentina.

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