Page 91 of Dirty Mafia King
My heart thunders.
Even Zoey’s eyes resemble saucers. “And I believed Renzo was the wild Beneventi.”
“Do you see him?”
“No. Unless he’s escaped rehab…”
“Not Renzo,” I correct. “Bastian.” I search the room once more but don’t find him. I’m relieved and unsettled. The bookcase door leading to the sex dungeon is closed. But still, he could be there … entertaining someone else…
I grunt with displeasure.
Zoey’s unusually quiet, which draws my attention.
“Is something wrong?” I manage, in response to her eyeballing me through her mask.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Her eyes narrow. “You called Mr. Beneventi by his nickname.Again.”
“Nothing to tell.” That much is true, anyway. Whatever transpired between Bastian and me is a shattered illusion. I pluck two champagne flutes off the nearest human table and pass her a glass. “To living on the edge.” I clink her glass with my own.
“Who are you?”
“Sugar, remember?”
She studies me a second longer, then taps my glass with hers. “To not falling off the edge.”
Lord, if she only knew the truth. I’ve fallen, and off the most precarious peak.
We drink and look our fill. And there’s a lot to see.
We’ve entered a decadent scene straight out of the movieEyes Wide Shut. Highbrow kink, where you’re invited to look past the outwardly sophisticated vibe and discover sinful pleasures just beyond. It’s an art movie on the surface and pure porn at the core.
My throat hitches. Am I prepared for the situation I might find Bastian in?
Maybe this is for the best? Maybe a heavy dose of reality will end my obsession with him?
Women approach the human table and reach for the champagne glasses. “His biceps are enormous,” a red-wig-bearing woman gushes.
The blonde’s quick to respond. “Big biceps, massive dick.”
They laugh. When things finally fall quiet, the brunette strikes. “I hear he ruts like a bull.”
I squeeze my champagne flute.
Zoey nudges me. “They’re talking about Mr. Beneventi.”
“Define massive?” the redhead demands.
The other two make measurements in the air.
“Eight inches. And thick like a soda pop can.” Another gorgeous brunette draws up beside me. It’s not her comment but her tone that catches everyone’s attention. Like she knows firsthand how magnificent Bastian’s cock is.
She shrugs. “So I hear.”
My anger flares. Because she’s lying, though not about Bastian’s cock size.
“Mind if I complete your trio?” she asks Zoey.
“Well, since you asked…”
