Page 6

LUCA

The sound of the hotel room door slamming closed is a bucket of ice water on the blissful post-orgasmic moment I was enjoying only seconds ago.

“ I’m really sorry. ”

Anders’s whispered words register too late, everything suddenly falling into place.

The metallic rattle, his quick departure…

He robbed me. He bruised my mouth with rough kisses I’ve only dreamed of before, reached into my mind, gave me every fantasy I’ve never said out loud, and then he tied me up and robbed me.

I let out a borderline unhinged burst of laughter in the eerily silent room.

If anyone else had pulled a stunt like that, I’d be imagining dozens of ways to make them suffer before splattering their brains all over the nearest surface.

I should be fucking seething, but I laugh again as an oddly warm affection fills my chest.

“He’s got some fucking balls, that’s for sure,” I mutter, giving the binding around my wrist a slight tug to assess just how fucked I am.

To my surprise, I can feel the ropes loosening immediately.

He tied a slip knot. Thank fuck for small mercies.

Another slightly harder tug and the knot falls apart completely.

I shove the blindfold up and blink as my eyes adjust to the light again.

A sinking feeling settles in my chest when I see that Anders is really and truly not here.

I didn’t think he would be, but I suppose a small part of me was holding out hope that this was some kind of kinky game he was playing.

His bag is gone, his clothes are gone—except for the white tank top that’s balled in my fist—and a quick glance lets me know my watch isn’t where I left it.

I slide out of bed, wincing and groaning at the ache between my ass cheeks and the delightful soreness dotted all over my skin where he bit and marked me.

I snatch my pants up off the floor and check the pockets.

My wallet is gone, but he left my keys. That’s something, at least. The urge to get dressed in a hurry and chase Anders down is strong, but I’m sure he’s smart enough that he didn’t linger right outside the hotel or anything quite that stupid.

I consider the area while I get dressed and decide he probably ran towards the nightlife district on this side of town to get lost in the crowds.

My clothes are slightly wrinkled, but otherwise no worse for wear after spending an hour crumpled on the floor. I wish I could say as much for myself. I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams, like one little tug could completely unravel me.

Until tonight, I’ve never had the courage to ask anyone to be rough with me.

I’ve played the cocky, confident, in control lover they all expected me to be, then gone home, lubed up my favorite toy, and fucked myself to fantasies of being owned and hurt just right.

I clench my ass at the memory of the first sharp sting of Anders’s teeth on my skin, and the move sends a fresh ache through me. I hiss and my spent cock twitches.

I feel completely lost, standing in the middle of the bedroom, the defiled bed feet away.

Deciding what to do next feels impossible.

Even simply choosing to get in my car and drive home seems unbearable, as if the too-brief euphoria of giving all of my power over to someone else—to Anders —irrevocably broke my brain.

I clench and unclench my fingers around my keys in my pocket, then let out a slow breath.

I stuff Anders’ shirt into my pocket. It’s too big to fit, so half of it hangs out like a trashy version of a pocket square.

Then, I straighten my shoulders, forcibly shake off the needy feeling clawing at my chest, and head for the door.

I’m on autopilot as I retrieve my car from the valet and mutter an apology for not having a tip for him.

My thoughts stay muddled and distracting as I cruise down the road, scanning the crowds gathered outside of the various bars and clubs for any sign of Anders.

I’m sure he’s hopped a bus or gone back to Wonderland to get his own car by now.

Hell, with the amount of money that was in my wallet, he could have gotten himself a limo home probably.

I huff and press down harder on the gas to get the hell out of here.

A few minutes later, I pass the turn that would lead to my neighborhood and keep driving until I reach a familiar street lined with brownstones.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, but that doesn’t stop me from parking, climbing the steps, and pressing the button for the top floor unit.

I reach into my pocket and wrap my fingers around the wrinkled fabric of Anders’ shirt again.

It’s damp from being stuffed into my mouth. I lick my lips absently at the memory.

It takes a minute or two before a familiar voice crackles through the speaker next to the door.

“Do you have any idea what fucking time it is?” There’s a gruff edge of sleep in his voice, and I wince.

“Sorry, Uncle Sal, I wasn’t thinking,” I answer.

I let my finger up from the button for a second and try to get the words ‘I’ll just go home,’ to form on my lips.

Going home to my empty apartment sounds like fucking torture, if I’m being honest. If I do, I’d say there’s at least a fifty percent chance that I’ll end up driving around looking for Anders instead.

Come to think of it, that isn’t the worst idea I’ve ever had. The burning need to hunt him down and…

And what ?

Not ask for my wallet or watch back. He can keep those.

I don’t want to hurt him or teach him a lesson. If I’m honest, I’d rather leave that to him and busy myself coming up with some fun ways to earn them.

No, what I want to do is hunt him down, throw him in my car, and take him back to my place so I can keep him for myself. I want to maim any other man who dares to touch him from here on out, and I want to spoil him until he forgets that he ever needed to rob anyone to survive.

I clench my teeth against the laugh that’s creeping up my throat. I paid for one night with a sex worker and now I want to kidnap him and keep him. I’d wonder if there’s something fucking wrong with me, but given the genetic line, I’m guessing that’s a solid yes.

The sigh that bursts through the speaker startles me, reminding me that I’m standing outside of Uncle Sal’s apartment in the middle of the night.

“No, come on up. Your mother will have my balls if you’re having some kind of fucking crisis at one o’clock in the morning and I send you away. Dante probably will too.” The buzz of the door unlocking follows only seconds later.

I huff out a laugh and wince at the reminder that I probably woke his husband too.

I should have thought a little harder before coming over here in the middle of the night, but he’s already awake now, so it’s not like I can turn around and go home.

By the time I reach his apartment, he’s waiting for me in the hallway.

Uncle Sal pats me on the shoulder and leads me inside.

His dark hair is sticking up in all directions and he’s dressed in a pair of fleece pajama bottoms and a t-shirt.

It’s weird to see him in anything other than one of his colorful suits.

I follow him into the kitchen where he has a bottle of Scotch out and waiting for us.

He lifts the bottle to his lips, gulps down two swigs, then sets it on the counter with a meaningful look in my direction.

“I figure if you’ve gotten yourself into some kind of trouble, then it’s better if I’m a little buzzed when you tell me.”

I chuckle and cross the space, picking up the bottle and taking a gulp of my own before leaning against the counter opposite him.

“I’m not in trouble.”

He arches an eyebrow at me. “You just thought it would be a good idea to rouse a man with a gun out of a peaceful slumber in the middle of the night?”

I grimace. “I had a shitty night, and I wasn’t thinking.”

“Ah, so personal trouble instead of professional.” He visibly relaxes, recapping the bottle and shoving it into the cabinet over the refrigerator. “That’s a lot fucking easier to deal with.”

I snort and wrap my hand tighter around Anders’s t-shirt, half in my pocket still. Sal’s eyes drop to where it’s sticking out and he scrunches his forehead but doesn’t outright ask what the hell I’m doing carrying around a white tank top.

“I don’t know. I think I’d rather stop by here to tell you I had to beat down another Fitzpatrick for showing his freckled, ginger ass in our city.”

Sal’s mouth twists into a scowl. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t. An all-out Mafia war is the last goddamn thing we need.”

“Yeah,” I murmur an absent agreement. He’s probably right. That shit is above my pay grade either way. “Honestly, I don’t know why I came by.”

“Why don’t you tell me why your night was so shitty, and I’ll see if I can Encyclopedia Brown this thing.” He waves in a go-ahead gesture that reminds me of Anders doing the same thing earlier, prompting me to undress while he watched me from the bed. A spike of heat and shame rushes through me.

“It started off pretty damn good.” I cast my gaze down to my feet, trying to decide how much I want to tell my uncle now that I’ve dragged him out of bed. “Met a guy at a club, got a hotel room…”

“Don’t tell me you hurt him.” His tone is so dark that it startles me, and I snap my head back up so I can look at him. The way his fingers twitch, I think he’s actually wishing he had his gun to point at me right now.

A shiver runs through me at the thought of doing anything to hurt Anders, and I hold up my hands in defense.

“Hell no. Of course I didn’t hurt him.”

He relaxes and blows out a breath.

“Good. I hope you know that your mother would remove your balls if you had.” He pauses and then chuckles. “And so would Dante.”