Page 43 of Bound to Him

“I don’t think you see how beautiful you are… how is a man expected to wait…” He trailed off, looking over my body. His breathing was becoming heavier; I could smell the cigar smoke and whiskey in the warm air that exited his mouth and settled on my skin. Still holding me down, he ran a hand up my thigh, and I began to struggle.

“Christian, this isn’t appropriate.”

“Oh, bullshit. It’s the modern day, and besides, your father told me why you couldn’t marry the man he’d arranged for you, huh?” I shrunk back, and he smiled wickedly. “So don’t lie and tell me you’re pure, sweetheart. I know what this pussy has done—”

He reached out and shoved his hand in between my legs, cupping me roughly. I shoved him away, but he was stronger and threw himself over me, trying to pin me down. Major mistake—he left himself wide open, and I rammed my knee right up into his balls.

“Ah!” He cried out and fell back onto the couch, holding his aching jewels. I stood up, fuming.

“How dare you?”

The cringe of pain on his face slowly turned into a laugh. The man was a nutcase! He smiled, shaking his head.

“You, my dear, are an untamed horse.” He stood up, barely recovered and still breathing with difficulty. “But I will break you.” His voice was suddenly deep and threatening. “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, princess. Once we’re married,” he reached forward and grabbed my arm to pull me close and sneer in my face, “as your father has promised me,” he added, as a reminder that I had no choice in the matter, “you’ll be mine, and you’ll do as I say.”

He shoved me away, making me stumble in my heels.

“Jeffrey!” He shouted, and to my astonishment, a butler appeared. “Take her away, please.”

Just like that, I was kicked out of my supposed fiancé’s penthouse, and driven home by a stranger. Don’t get me wrong, I was glad to get away from him, but the way he acted like he had the upper hand here pissed me the fuck off. I was no pincushion woman. No one had ever treated me with such disrespect and vigor before, and I would make sure it never happened again.

19

Huxley

It had been a few days since I last saw Olivia, and I was feeling pretty down, to say the least. Knowing that things were over with her and that I had a whole new life with her sister planned ahead for me, was quite the fucking downer, though the importance of it was clearer to me than ever.

The Moretti family’s protection and safety hung on my going through with this and so did the Romanos. Now that the Rossis were showing hostility, we all had to be on our best guard and keep the alliance between us strong. I would have kept Olivia as my one and only mistress for the rest of my life, if it weren’t so fucking risky—if the wrong people were to find out, there would no doubt be bloodshed over it and all alliances would be lost.

So, I continued to try and accept that fate: a life of watching Olivia with someone else. But in the meantime, finding out what I could about her fiancé would keep me sane. I didn’t tell Antonio; this was something personal I wanted to suss out. Vinnie knew where I was, just in case shit went south somehow.

The cocktail club he invited me to was this deceivingly classy looking spot in the city. The front spilled out onto the sidewalk of the main road, with young and beautiful people crowding around the tall cocktail tables. But in my quick circle around the block, I noticed something a little dingy about the back of house. I couldn’t make any assumptions yet, but I could tell illegal security guards from professional ones. It was a big part of my own business, and these guards weren’t Italian, that was for sure. They guarded the back door and loading dock where a truck already sat. I didn’t think the offloading of liquor and food needed this much protection.

With these tidbits of intel, I parked and headed in at the front. True to the occasion, I wore a blue suit and patterned blue shirt, buttons undone to reveal half of my chest and the gold chain I wore. It was a little bit of a disguise, sure. I wanted Christian to think I was easy-going and up for anything, so he would feel more at ease telling me all his secrets.

“Huxley!” He already seemed to be warm off the alcohol when I arrived.

“Christian.” I nodded with a smile. “Thanks for the invite. It’s a great place!”

“You like it, yes?” He looked around the place with a proud smile. “I opened it only a few months ago. Here, take a seat.”

He invited me to join him and another few Colombian men at one of the seated areas which were white armchairs arranged in circles throughout the middle of the place. Out front were cocktail tables, cushioned armchairs were in the middle, and full couches with platform stages at the back behind, what I could see, was a curtain rail across the ceiling. Of course, as a club owner and manager myself, I knew exactly what everything was used for and why they were placed in this progressional way. At some point in the evening, the curtains closed, the bouncers got into position, and the girls took their places on the platforms at the back. Funny, it didn’t look like a strip club at first glance.

As I sat down, a gorgeous young waitress came my way, purposefully flirtatious in her movements. “Hi there, sir. What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a whiskey, neat. Thanks.”

As she walked away, ass swaying, Christian nudged me. “She is one sexy bitch, man. Get in there and you’ll see, best pussy in the house!”

He spoke about her as though she were another bottle of liquor on the shelf. But I chuckled along with him. “With an ass like that, I’m sure the pussy’s top shelf, my man!”

Laughing harder, he agreed, “Yes! Exactly!” He then roped in the attention of his friends. “Hola, boys!” They ended their conversation and turned to look at me, clearly sizing me up. “This is Huxley Moretti; you might have heard of him before.”

Two of them nodded, lifting their glasses. The third just kept watching me carefully. I got the feeling he didn’t quite like me… Wonder why? Things were already fishy around here, and I didn’t like it. Not when it involved Olivia and the life she was marrying into.

“Ah, here we are!” Christian said, smiling at the waitress as she placed my drink next to me. “Hang on, sweetheart.” He touched her legs and stopped her in front of him, then looked at all of us and said, “How’s this for top shelf, huh?”

He put his hands on her ass and jiggled the globes. The other guys laughed as though it was the funniest joke they’d heard all year. I tried to pretend to laugh, but the look on the waitress’ face had a sick feeling forming in my gut. When he was done laughing, he slapped her ass and told her to get lost. She smiled almost professionally, then disappeared through a door behind the bar. Was it possible? Did he hire his waitresses through the sex worker industry? It would be a good way to have pussy on hand at all times, and I wouldn’t put that past him.

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