Page 27 of All’s Fair In Love & War (The Bulgari Cartel #2)
If what I knew about her was correct, she would want to case the place, and I wanted to be prepared for whatever came next.
Eros wasn’t a club. It was my fucking kingdom, and unlike most empires, I built it on secrets, lust, and submission.
From the outside, it appeared to be any other exclusive penthouse lounge, situated above a stunning skyline, but once you were past the velvet entrance and through biometric clearance, the real Eros bared its teeth.
The lights were dim and ambient, casting a warm, crimson glow over everything, like blood spread beneath satin sheets.
The air was thick with sex, perfume, sweat, and expensive liquor.
Every hallway pulsed with possibilities, and every moan was echoed with consent.
Whatever happened inside was always wanted and never judged.
The foyer was sleek and marble, lined with gold-trimmed statues of gods and goddesses mid-orgasm, lips parted in agony and ecstasy.
Live performers hung from aerial ropes above the lounge, bodies glistening in oil, twisting and writhing as they danced in slow, sensual rotations.
One couple fucked on a mirrored chaise in full view of the main floor, surrounded by voyeurs sipping cocktails like they were watching a Broadway play.
In a different room, a man was on all fours, unclothed, with a leash around his neck, while a woman in latex heels fed him strawberries.
Another space revealed a full-service dungeon filled with the sounds of leather meeting flesh and breathy cries.
Every fantasy had a place here. Every craving had a home.
No kink was too taboo, and no guest was denied unless they broke the only rule. No harm without consent.
I stood on the top floor balcony, overlooking it all, one hand wrapped around a glass of Blue Label while the other adjusted my cufflinks when Kendrick’s voice buzzed in my ear.
“She’s here.”
I finished my drink in one gulp, passed the empty glass to a server, and headed to the front. My steps down the winding staircase were steady and confident. I was calm, yet excitement simmered within me.
When the elevator doors opened, and Sophia stepped through, the world around me paused.
The coat she wore was cinched at her tiny waist. Her posture was upright, and her chin lifted like royalty surveying her kingdom.
There was something about the way she moved, all calm and unhurried, as if she didn’t need anyone’s permission to exist in this space.
Sophia stepped forward and paused in the center of the room as if she felt my eyes on her.
Then, without so much as a glance in any direction, she began to slide her coat off her shoulders.
First the left, then the right. It fell in one smooth motion that landed at her feet, and when I saw what was underneath, I had to remind myself to breathe.
Sophia wore black lace and nothing more.
Her sheer corset cinched her waist, and the embroidered mesh barely concealed her breasts, pushing them up so high that my mouth went dry just looking at her.
Her nipples were chocolate, hard peaks, clearly visible through the thin fabric, and she made no effort to cover.
The thong she wore was practically painted on, swallowed between the soft, perfect curve of her golden ass.
Garter straps stretched down to meet the tops of her thigh-highs, the clips kissing her skin like they worshipped it.
Every man in her vicinity stopped to look as she stood tall, letting the heat of their stares roll off her like water. She hadn’t dressed for attention. Nah, she had dressed that way for me.
My excitement kicked up a notch, and I had to force myself not to move too fast. I had planned to use her to get back at her brothers for all the damage they had done to my family during the war.
That was the whole reason I was going so hard.
I was supposed to get close, manipulate her, and use whatever leverage I could find to make them pay.
However, looking at her now?
I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea or if I was taking on more than I could handle.
Sophia grinned sexily when she saw me coming, her eyes tracking my approach with the deadly eyes of a predator, and my dick stirred immediately.
Her skin glowed under the light. It was smooth, radiant, and the color of sunlit bronze. Her lips were painted a deep red, and her hair, long and curly, swept around her bare shoulders.
She was fucking breathtaking.
And dangerous. It would be beneficial for me to remember that.
I clenched my jaw and reminded myself of the plan. Sophia was leverage. A Bulgari. Khalil’s little sister. Naeem’s weakness. A wild card I needed to tame if I wanted control.
“You look…” I ran my tongue across my teeth, eyeing every inch of her body. “... like a walking hard-on,” I complimented as best I knew how, and her mouth curved into a slow, wicked smile.
“You suggested I dress in what makes me feel sexy, so I dressed the part.”
“And you didn’t miss.” I extended my hand, and she took it.
I led her through the corridors of Eros like a devil guiding a goddess to the underworld.
Our first stop was the voyeur room—a space walled with two-way glass where members could watch scenes unfold without being seen.
A woman straddled another in the center of the room, their bodies tangled, and moans muffled behind the thick glass.
“Every angle’s captured,” I whispered in her ear, standing so close behind her I could feel the heat roll off her body. “Every sound piped in through the speakers. People pay six figures a year for a front-row seat to pleasure like this.”
“And you? You just watch?”
“You do whatever you like as long as you have consent,” I corrected. “But watching is for guests.”
Next was the wax room. It was low-lit, with silk draped from the ceiling and slabs of marble lined in red. A man lay on his back while a Domme dripped hot wax across his chest, carving designs in shades of pink. He twitched with every drop, but never protested.
Sophia’s brow arched. “Pain as art?” she asked, her voice low and smoky, like she was tasting the words on her tongue before letting them out.
“Pleasure,” I corrected, stepping closer, so close I could smell the vanilla and jasmine she’d dabbed on her neck earlier. “Depends on who’s asking.” My lips brushed against her ear as I spoke, and I swear I felt her shiver.
The fetish wing was up next, and this was where most people lost their breath.
One room catered to sensory deprivation, another to knife play.
There were padded walls, cages, even a rotating sex swing where two men were fucking a woman, just dogging her pussy out.
The moans coming from her throat didn’t sound like pain. They sounded like heaven.
Sophia leaned against the doorway, watching the scene unfold with more curiosity than judgment. Her breathing shifted just slightly, but enough for me to notice.
“You ever tried anything like that?” I asked, standing right behind her, voice low against her ear.
She tilted her head slightly, teasing. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I smiled. “I plan to.”
She pushed off the doorframe, circling me once, her heel clicking on the lacquered floors. Her eyes were glossy with amusement, pupils dilated as she ran a finger down my shirt, stopping at the top button and flicking it open with a twist of her thumb and forefinger.
"Show me the fun stuff," she said, biting her bottom lip with mock innocence.
“You couldn’t handle the fun stuff, Bulgari.”
“Try me.”
I took her small hand into mine and nodded at Kendrick, who had been watching us from afar the entire time. He nodded, already in motion, securing the hallways behind us. Power moved in silence, and mine trailed me like a shadow.
The fun stuff lived in the back. It was an afterthought for most, but those who attended left as different people.
I led Sophia to a private elevator, thumbed in the code, and let the mirrored walls reflect her hunger back at her.
She leaned into me, never quite submitting but never outright resisting when I wrapped my arm around her either.
The doors whooshed open onto a suite that didn’t appear on any blueprint. It smelled faintly of sandalwood and money. I pressed my palm to the scanner, and the lights flicked on in a blue haze.
There was a panoramic view of the city. From this high up, we were gods, untouchable, insulated, untamed.
The room was set up with a velvet-tufted bench, a wall of mirrored glass, and racks of toys, ranging from utilitarian to ornate.
Every surface was velvet, leather, or marble, opulence with a pulse.
Sophia ran her hands over everything she passed, examining each piece with a scientist’s precision and an artist’s curiosity.
When she reached the wall display housing the leather cuffs, gold-dipped paddles, and engraved blades, she removed a crop, then snapped it lightly against the palm of her own hand.
“You put these to use, or are they just for show?”
I grinned and closed the distance, so close that the heat from her skin threatened to set my suit on fire. “You want a demonstration?”
“I want the truth,” she said, and there was no tease in her eyes now, only that wild, unblinking intensity that lived in the Bulgari genes.
I plucked the crop from her hand. “Put both hands on the bench, palms flat. Don’t move.”
Sophia arched her back, hands splayed on the velvet-tufted bench, presenting herself like an offering. Her garter straps strained against her thighs as she bent over, her ass high in the air, her pussy on full display, hair spilling down to hide her face.
I gave her a warning tap, the crop snapping lightly against her right thigh. “That one was to wake the nerves,” I said, my voice low and rough. “You ready for more?”