Page 33 of The Devil's Deal

My gaze devours her, from those round, deep brown eyes to her insanely curvy body. She’s all grown up and has only gotten more beautiful. Her shirt can barely contain her tits. They’re not massive, but they’re huge for her frame.

If she wasn’t his daughter and the girl who ripped my heart out, she’d be up against the wall already with my cock buried inside her. Wouldn’t be hard at all. She’s practically begging for it.

But that’ll never happen. Not with her. I shouldn’t have even done what I just did, but I couldn’t deny our chemistry.

Why the hell does she have to be so beautiful? And why the hell can’t I stop thinking about those lips sucking on my cock here in this club?

Fuck.

My dick throbs. I bet I could have her bouncing on my lap right on this stool if I wanted to.

Getting women to spread their thighs has never been my problem. It’s making them leave after I’m through with them that is. But I have a feeling that won’t be a problem with her.

Clenching a fist, I force all thoughts of the mafia princess out of my head. I’ll never fuck her.

Not even if she begs.

Not even if it’s all I can think about.

I don’t fuck the enemy. I ruin her.

This pretty little thing may want me now, but soon, when she realizes what I’m about to do to her, she’ll want nothing to do with me.

Chiara Bianchi may be the devil’s daughter, but she’ll soon be mine, and not in the way she wants.

I didn’t intend for it to happen this way. It fell into my lap when I least expected it. But now, I can’t wait.

“How long have you run this place?” I ask, though I already know almost everything about her.

I don’t even know why I came here. I didn’t need to see her before tonight. But the sick piece of shit that I am, I want her to see me like this before I cause her entire life to fall apart like she did mine. I have lots of plans for Faro’s only child, and none of them will make him happy.

“Since I graduated college seven years ago,” she answers.

I knew that too. Between gathering information and following her for about two years, I know more than she can imagine.

I didn’t just follow her because of her father. It was deeper than that. Our past—the history I still haven’t been able to free myself from—haunted me.

I’ve never stopped thinking about her.

Not once.

And every time I remember how badly she hurt me, I only want to hurt her more.

My brothers and I have been making plans for the Bianchi brothers for years now, but in the last year, our plan became concrete. We’ve organized everything to perfection, making sure nothing was overlooked.

“Was it something you’ve always wanted to do?” I wonder.

I’m curious why she works here. I haven’t been able to learn that information. Yet.

She laughs humorlessly. “Run a strip club?” Her brow flies up. “Definitely not.”

“Why are you doing it, then?”

“Let’s just say I had to.”

“I’m sorry you were forced into something you didn’t want,” I add, picking up another whiskey I ordered and downing it fast, letting the amber liquid burn a path down my throat.

“Things could always be worse,” she says nonchalantly.

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