Page 4 of Cruel Lust

I’ve watched enough men realize they’re not as bright as they think to recognize the doubt that passes over her heart-shaped face. It doesn’t last long. “Santoro, right? You’re one of the Santoros.”

“That’s right. But which one? Am I Dante, the older son with a stick up his ass?” I spread my arms to either side, across the top of the booth. “Or am I the younger, much more handsome and talented son?”

Her laughter lights up her face. “Wow. With a description like that, I don’t really have to guess, do I?” Her sarcasm is heavy as she takes in the decor, toying with her glass. “This place is really cool. Is it hard to run a club?”

“Not when you hire the right people to manage things for you.”

“Come on. Somebody like you…” she arches an eyebrow, and those lips I can’t take my eyes off of curve in a knowing grin, “… you would hand the reins over to somebody else?”

I sense the challenge in her question, and damn if it doesn’t make blood surge to my dick and stiffen it all at once. “I said I’d let them manage it,” I remind her. “I didn’t say they hold the reins. Only I do that.”

Leaning in and thrusting her tits forward enticingly, she asks, “And does that go for every part of your life? Or just the club?”

Hunger, much deeper and stronger than anything I’m used to, stirs in my core and leaves me salivating, wanting to lunge over the table and take her. “I would love to show you personally,” I offer, grunting helplessly when her cheeks flush and her eyes darken. Much more of this, and we’re going to need a trip back to one of the private rooms.

As it is, I’m not sure I can last the rest of the night with an unrelenting hard-on. It’s not a bad idea, either, relieving some tension before I settle business. She wouldn’t resist, not with her tits heaving with every shallow, excited breath and those lips, full, parted, and begging for attention.

I turn to look over my shoulder toward the hall, where Vinny is standing in front. Anybody who takes a single glance at him knows better than to approach. He catches my eye and lifts his chin in a silent question. I fucking hate being reminded of work when I’m trying to have fun.

How many times do we have to go over this?

“I’m probably keeping you from something important, aren’t I? I really am fine, Mr. Santoro.” My name rolls off her tongue, and now I want her to say it again and again, preferably while I’m licking my way up the inside of her thighs.

I have to clench my fists under the table in an attempt to ward off the desire to reach out and test the softness of her skin and the fullness of those melon tits ready to spill over the top of her dress. It’s extremely rare for anyone to suddenly hit me this hard with desire. Something about her calls out, sparking something in me I clearly have no control over.

And that’s a problem.

If there’s one thing I need at all times, it’s control. I need to leave this table and forget she exists in favor of what has to be done tonight. I’m sure by the time my former best friend’s body is being dragged from my office, I won’t remember what I found so appealing about little Em, which is probably why I’m so reluctant to leave her.

“Do me a favor?” I ask with a grin, watching the way her lips touch the glass and she toys with the stem when she isn’t sipping.

What could those fingers do to me?

“Depends on the favor,” she teases with a smirk that stirs a growl in my chest.

“Stick around. I have a few things to settle, but I would very much like to continue our conversation later.” I risk reaching across the table, letting the backs of my fingers glide over her knuckles. She sucks in the tiniest breath through her parted lips, and fuck, it does something to me. Something deep, dark, and needful begins to grow. “I’d like to get to know you better.”

Her teeth sink into her lip before she nods. “I’ll be here,” she promises in a shaky voice.

I rise, lifting her hand to my lips, letting them linger against her smooth skin until a shiver runs through her body and into mine. I would swear it was real, that I didn’t imagine it. “You better be,” I warn. “I would hate to have to search the city for you.” Her teeth sink into her juicy lip, and the sight makes me groan before I force myself to turn away.

I was planning on savoring Frankie’s untimely but much-earned demise. I’ve been looking forward to it for the past week, ever since I received confirmation of him taking meetings with that son of a bitch, Vitali. He might as well be my brother—we’re that close. Were that close. Past tense. Now, he’s nothing more than another task to check off my list before I return to the woman who stole my attention.

Vinny steps aside so I can walk down the narrow hall and into my office, and it takes a second for me to adjust to the sudden change in atmosphere. The soundproof room doesn’t allow anything to filter through the walls in either direction, taking me from a deafening roar to near silence, minus Frankie’s pointless sobs. “Luca… please, man…”

He’s where I left him, his wrists and ankles duct taped to the arms and legs of a chair placed square in the middle of a sheet of plastic covering the floor. The same plastic drapes over my desk and the furniture I would rather not soil with this degenerate blood. Bobby and Mike stand to either side of him, making sure he isn’t going anywhere just in case a sudden burst of self-preservation lets him snap the tape.

“Do either of you hear something?” I ask the guys standing guard. “It almost sounds like a sniveling piece of shit trying to beg for mercy.”

“Luca…” he groans out.

“A sniveling piece of shit who thinks it will make a difference if he whines and begs.” I unbutton my wine-stained jacket, leaving it on the other side of the room before removing my cufflinks and slowly rolling up my sleeves. “A sniveling piece of shit who I now understand is the reason our last shipment to Sicily got detained by port authorities.”

“Luca,” the worthless sack of flesh I once considered family, continues.

“Shut the fuck up,” I roar. In a flash, I’m across the room, taking a handful of his sweat-soaked hair and yanking hard until he’s looking up into my eyes. He reeks of terror, not to mention piss. The stupid son of a bitch pissed himself. “Do not speak unless I ask you a question. You will not get through to me no matter how you try. You will not change my mind or erase the fucking heartbreak you put my family through. Do you realize the man who welcomed you at his table and gave you a bed to sleep in when your old man was beating the shit out of you on the daily didn’t leave his room for two fucking days after he found out what you did?”

I shove his head away, then wipe my hand on his sleeve while snarling in disgust. “You broke my father’s fucking heart. Do you think I would let you get away with that? Do you know me at all?”

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