11
Dante
My time is up. An hour whizzed by and I’m reminded that she isn’t mine to have for another minute.
“I’ll buy her now, outright for the entire night,” I say.
There’s a look of desperation behind her amber eyes. She can’t beg me to stay, but if she could, she would be on her hands and knees right now.
I’ve teased her, and that’s all I’ve required her to do for me.
Any other man would have forced her to give him a blow job and shoved their hardened cock down her throat until she choked.
I can see the fear behind those golden flecks of honey, and her hand is clenched on my thigh. Her fingernails are sharp. I’m surprised none of the men have cuts from her fighting back.
Nicole seems like a fighter, and something tells me the fire hasn’t been extinguished from within her yet.
I pat her thigh and guide her from my lap to the booth. The material is crushed velvet. It’s soft and probably caresses her naked backside.
Desperately I want to feel her slit, discover the sheen of glistening desire that pools between her thighs. It is, after all, only for me.
The men at this soiree are vile and disgusting creatures.
I feel like filth just being here.
But I can’t let my focus change.
I have to protect Nicole. If not for her, then for the Ricci Family. She is my bargaining chip.
After I put her onto the booth, I climb out, wanting to have a word with DeLuca’s men. I gesture for her to stay.
“No one touches her,” I demand.
The big guy who is not so much tall as he is wide indicates for his bosses to come over. Rafael slums over.
“You again?” Rafael says. “What now?” He doesn’t even pretend to look happy to see me.
Why should he? We’re enemies.
“How much to buy the raven outright,” I say.
I point to Nicole. We’re far enough away that she can’t hear our conversation. That’s how it must be.
I pretend not to know that she’s Don DeLuca’s daughter, or that I even know her name. It’s better if they think I don’t care.
Except I can’t fool them when I’m demanding no one else can get their claws on her.
Rafael snorts indignation. “You’re insane. She’s not for sale. Unless you plan on marrying her, buyers can choose their bride for a steep price. We like to think of it as matchmaking. We help facilitate the arrangement of marriages.” He smiles a toothless grin. “The IRS has fewer problems with it too. We’re a dating service.”
My stomach flops at the disgust for Rafael and the men who run this place.
Was Gino DeLuca actually considering selling his daughter to a man for marriage?
Fuck.
It doesn’t matter the cost. I won’t let anyone else take her home.
She is mine.