"Yeah." His teeth glided across his bottom lip as he looked at me. "That's it. Get out of here before Dante has a fucking stroke when you're not on time."
ChapterTwenty-Two
AVA
After I left Lucky's, Tony drove me to The Monella Club. Unlike Vegas, prostitution wasn't legal in Atlantic City. The brothel was in Absecon, a small town outside the city, hidden in a wooded area behind a guarded fence.
Tony hit the button on the call box. He spoke to the security guard on the other end, then the gate opened for us.
I was slightly terrified of what I would see behind the doors of this place. They catered to the dark desires of their customers. If you had a dream, they would make it happen.
For a price, of course.
Tony parked in front of a mansion that looked more like someone's home than a brothel. He got out of the SUV, opened the back door, and ushered me inside.
A massive crystal chandelier hung on the vaulted ceiling in the foyer. To my right, there was a staircase to the second floor. Women wearing only heels and diamond necklaces strolled up and down the stairs with different men. I heard moans from a distance, even over the low thump of the music.
Tony put his hand on my shoulder and steered me past the staircase and down the main hallway. Private rooms lined each side of the corridor, with people spilling out. Most of the men wore suits, while the women were naked. I averted my gaze, keeping my attention ahead.
Moans and grunts of pleasure spilled out from the closed doors. I felt slightly uncomfortable hearing people fuck. Not because I was a prude. I let Angelo and Nico finger me under the table during dinner. So it wasn't like I was shy. But I would eventually have to get used to stepping foot into a brothel every week.
A dozen men and women passed us without a second look. I figured the patrons of this establishment had seen it all before because they didn't seem phased or distracted by all the screams.
A whip cracked against someone's skin, and they screamed, whimpered. The horrible blood-curdling sounds ripped from the woman's mouth sent a shiver straight down my spine. I thought about Dante and the day he bent me over his knee on my couch. It was so fucking hot I almost begged him to touch me.
Almost.
Tony opened a door at the back of the club, and inside the dimly lit room, I found Angelo on a leather couch surrounded by a group of men in black suits.
I halted at the sight of so many Mafia guys in one room. Even after years of exposure to the Boardwalk Mafia, I still hadn't fully adjusted to being around them. But for some idiotic reason, I seemed to lower my guard around the Luciano brothers.
Not a smart move.
Definitely not.
I followed Tony over to the sitting area. It looked like a living room but with a desk at the far end of the room, set between ceiling height windows.
"About fucking time, college girl," Angelo said as he rose from the couch. "I've been waiting for you."
"Then blame Stefan for why I'm late. It's his fault."
"Hmmm…" He scrubbed a hand across the dark stubble on his jaw, drawing my attention to the long scar on his right cheek. "And what were you and Stefan doing that kept you?"
I sauntered over to him, ignoring the four men sitting on the surrounding couches. "Ask your brother."
A dark chuckle escaped his throat. "Are you one of those girls who doesn't kiss and tell?" Angelo walked over to me with a swagger in his step, giving me a cocky smirk. "Because we don't keep secrets in this family."
"There's nothing to tell."
Angelo snaked his arm around me, digging his fingers into my hip. "I'll excuse you for being late just this once." He bent down, his lips inches from mine. "But only because I get you for the rest of the night."
"No, you don't. I'm here to get the money and go. I've been up since seven and need sleep."
His hand dropped to my chest, right over my heart, as if he were checking to see how fast it pounded for him. He smirked, happy with himself for freaking me out. I knew this wouldn't be a normal job, but I didn't sign up for all day and night work.
Angelo continued his slow exploration, his fingers inching up my neck until they wrapped around my throat. He squeezed so hard that I gasped for air. So I clutched his wrist and tugged for him to release his hold on me.
"Stop talking back," he said against my lips. "I'm the boss. I make the rules. And you answer to me." His grip tightened on my throat as our eyes met. "When I say you're mine for the night, you're fucking mine."