Page 2 of Jordan

“Good. And how about you, Elio? Do you understand?”

“I do, Papa.”

He nods and turns to me. “Piccolino,” my father begins, using the nickname he and my brothers use often. It’s long outdated, meaning little one, but I have a feeling I will never live it down. “My boy, my smart boy. You understand too, yes?”

“Of course, Papa,” I respond.

Though, deep down, I’m not sure I do understand. I don’t get how marrying to have children is the key to his empire. I don’t see a direct connection, but I don’t want my father to think I’m stupid. So, I agree, and I’ll figure it out later. My brothers look as confused as I feel, and they’re keeping their mouths shut too.

My father doesn't like to explain himself, not when it comes to business. He prides himself in knowing he raised boys who just get it, who think the way he does because it means his legacy will continue on the way he wants.

And maybe my brothers and I do understand a lot of what my father does and why, but there are also things we don’t get and bullshit our way through. But if we can fool Papa, we can fool anyone. The way to get to the top isn’t fighting the hardest, it’s being the most cunning. Something the Bramantes excel in. And that won’t ever change.

Chapter Two

Vincenzo

Present day…

“Well? What do you think so far?” Rafael hides his smirk behind his glass of bourbon.

I scan the crowd as I mull over what he asked me. What do I think? I think the money I paid to be here better be worth it. So far, not a single woman stands out as being worth half a million. Though, looks can be deceiving does hold some truth to it, so I suppose I shouldn’t judge too harshly just yet.

“Better be worth the money.”

Rafael huffs out a laugh. “As if you don’t have enough of it.”

“Because I don’t spend it on foolish things.”

“It’ll be worth it. You need a break, anyway.”

“What I need is for Dario Canvani to have an unfortunate run-in with a high-speed train.”

“We’re not talking business tonight, Vincenzo,” he chastises.

I glare at him. Who is he taking that tone with?

He leans close to me, keeping his voice low. “Punish me for it later.”

He looks up at me as he brings his glass to his lips and takes a small sip, winks, and walks away.

I take a slow breath and watch as he goes. He will be punished for it later. Along with whatever girl we end up with tonight.

My first time attending a key party, all thanks to Rafael pushing me to do so, and I’m less than impressed. But we haven’t got to the fun parts yet, so I’ll finalize my assessment tomorrow. I suppose I can say everything up to this point hasn’t been horrible.

Being a few hours from home gives me a sense of ease. There’s no one to recognize me out here. The club’s extensive background checks, health assessments, and contracts make me feel somewhat comfortable. Helps with my concern over a woman trying to get pregnant by me, for money alone. Leaving here blackmailed isn’t a worry I have just yet. These women may be average in the looks department, but they aren’t gold-diggers, and that’s the key selling point for me. The fewer women I have to kill over them thinking they have bigger balls than me, the better.

Though I am a brutal man, I am a fair one. I won’t bring a girl into my bed for a night of fun knowing it’s a death sentence for her because she thinks she can outsmart me. I’m not that cruel. So I avoid women altogether. And though I do enjoy Rafael and the way he pleases me, submits to me, does every little thing I want him to, I miss the feel of a warm pussy wrapped around my cock.

Rafael understands, and he’s okay with it. It’s part of why I appreciate our… relationship. If you can call it that—neither of us do.

It’s a contractual agreement. I rather like contracts. Keeps things simple. Black and white.

We don’t do the cuddling thing, don’t do the kissing thing, we just do the fucking thing. We especially do the power play thing, and it works for both of us. But due to Rafael’s fear of commitment and my fear of—well, a gold-digging broad stealing my semen to knock herself up doesn’t pertain to Rafael, but he wants the contract for his own peace of mind, so we keep it.

He likes being around and I like having him around. We make it work.

I let off steam by doing whatever the hell I please, and he lets off steam by giving up complete control of his body to me. There’s a ton of trust between us in the bedroom. Enough trust for me to have his life in my hands—yet not enough to get rid of the contract. Rafael is a funny man.