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Hope she enjoyed the free fucking show.

But then, something else catches my eye as she’s walking out. Just at the edge of her thigh, it’s faint through the steam-covered glass, but that’s a bruise. I didn’t notice it before, probably because I was too distracted by her tits and dripping pussy. But I see it now, and I can’t ignore it. That couldn’t have happened here. The thought of another person laying a hand on her makes my blood fucking boil.

Grabbing a towel, I sling it low around my waist and head straight for her room. I push the door open, eyes sweeping the room. When I don’t see her, I make my way to the ensuite.

The second I shove the door open, she whips around, yanking her robe tight around her.

“Privacy,” she snaps, all defensively.

Like I give a damn about her privacy, considering I just had my fingers buried in her pussy.

I step in, closing the space between us, and crouch down, keeping my eyes locked on the mark. “What happened here?” Before she can back off, my fingers brush over the dark, fresh bruise.

She flinches, “It’s nothing,” she spits out, too fast and too fucking defensive, like I’m gonna buy that bullshit. For a split second, I see a flicker of fear. She’s hiding something.

I keep my eyes locked on hers, waiting. She fidgets, like she’s scrambling for a way out of this mess, and then she blurts it out: “What happened to Bria?”

That was the last thing I expected her to ask. Bria, my dead ex. A ghost that pulls me straight down into that dark, rotting pit I fight to bury.

“Why the fuck would you ask about her?” I snap, rage lacing every word. “You don’t know shit about her, Olivia. Stay the hell out of my business.”

Her face twists, like my words just slapped her. For a split second, I catch a glimmer of something like regret, but I push it aside.

“Alessio.” My name falls from her lips, soft, pleading.

“Fuck off,” I growl, cutting her off. My anger is boiling over, and my control is slipping. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

I storm out before she can say another word. Why the hell do I care about a stupid bruise? She probably deserved whatever the fuck happened to her. I head straight for my room, slamming the door so hard it shakes the frame. My fists clench at my sides, fighting to rein in the rage building inside me.

My pants are still on the floor. I grab them, fishing my phone from my pocket. The screen flashes as I unlock it, my thumb flying over the keys.

Me:Set me up for tonight.

My heart’s still racing, and I pace the room, trying to breathe through the anger. Why the fuck do I care about Olivia’s bruise? I shouldn’t, shit isn’t my problem. But the thought of someone else laying a hand on her… fuck, it makes me want to kill.

Almost immediately, my phone buzzes. Kota’s reply pops up.

Kota:Is Red getting under your skin?

Red.That’s what he calls Olivia. I stare at the screen, clenching my jaw so hard I’m half expecting to hear a tooth crack. I don’t have time for his shit.

I type back quickly.

Me:Kota, just fucking do what I tell you.

The reply is instant.

Kota:You got it, Boss. What do you want the bet at?

My thumbs fly.

Me:$500,000.00

There’s a pause and another message, and I can practically hear Kota’s smug grin dripping through the screen.

Kota:Red must’ve got under your skin.

And to top it off, the asshole throws in a winking emoji. That shit makes me want to hurl my phone across the room and watch it shatter against the wall in a million pieces.