Page 163 of Madness & Mercy

My throat works. I swallow hard, pride falling to pieces. I nod.

That’s all he needs.

Nico rises from his chair, unhurried as he unbuttons his black shirt one snap at a time. His eyes never leave me, and the look he gives me makes my pulse stutter.

My knees fall weak as I stand, bracing myself on the sleek black desk. The surface is cool beneath my palms, a sharp contrast to the heat flooding my veins. Papers scatter at my touch, but Nico doesn’t care.

He grips the waistband of my pants, tugging them down in one smooth motion along with my boxers. The air is cold against my skin—until his hand comes down, firm on my hip, grounding me.

From the side drawer, he pulls out a bottle of lube and a box of condoms.

I snort. “Do you keep that shit in every drawer?”

He laughs, bringing his palm down hard on my ass. The sharpcrackmakes me jolt.

“Easy access,” he teases, slicking his fingers before pressing one inside me.

A sound breaks from my throat before I can choke it back. My body arches into him, betraying me, craving more.Goddamnit…maybe it’s the position we’re in, but he’s already driving me insane.

Files still clutter the surface beneath me. My eyes dart down, trying to distract myself, trying to breathe, tonotlet him see how quickly he’s unraveling me. But then his mouth is at my ear.

“You wanna see the files?” His voice is a devil’s whisper. He flips one open and slides it in front of me. “Go ahead.Read it.”

I glance at the words, letters swimming, but before I can focus, he smacks me again, harder this time. My breath catches.

“Out loud,amore mio.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a sound. My knuckles go white against the polished black surface of the desk. He slides another finger in, and I can’t hold back a groan this time.

“Read,”he murmurs, shoving the file closer to me.

The words blur for a second. I blink hard, forcing them into focus. The page is dense with lines of typed text, numbers in neat columns. Shipments. Dates. Locations. All so fucking ordinary in his world andimpossiblein mine right now.

I swallow, my voice shaky. “S–shipment… uh, twenty crates… p–port of Livorno, Monday…” My breath hitches when his fingers curl inside me, hitting that spot that makes my knees buckle.

“Keep going,” Nico says, his tone silk and steel all at once.

My eyes dart over the page. “U–uh… weapons inventory… three Kalashnikovs, two—f–fuck—two cases of ammo…” I squeeze my eyes shut, but his hand smacks my ass, sharp enough to sting.

“Eyes on the page, cucciolo,”he orders, tightening his grip on my hip.

I force them open, reading through the blur. My voice cracks. “Contact… n–name, De Rossi… p–payment… wire transfer due—ah—due by Friday…”

He twists his fingers just right and I jolt forward, my hands slipping on the desk. I gasp, my chest pressed against the cool surface now. “S–shipment… ah—s–scheduled for inspection… d–dock five, c–container number—” I can barely drag the words out between broken breaths, each one catching on the tremor in my throat.

Nico leans in close, his lips brushing my ear.“You’re doing so good for me.Keep reading.”

The file shakes in my hands. My voice is wrecked, stammering over every word. “C–container number 417… m–manifest… falsified… contents listed as… c–construction equipment…” My breath stutters, my chest heaving against the edge of the desk.

“Good boy,” he murmurs, dragging his teeth lightly over my jaw. “Even when you can barely think straight, you still do what I tell you.”

He pulls his fingers out slowly, dragging against me in a way that makes my whole body seize from the loss.

I hear the sharp tear of foil behind me, then the slick sound of latex sliding down. He‘s taking his time, like he knowsexactlyhow badly I want this and is savoring the power. My fingers curl into claws against the desk, nails biting into the surface.

“Forget it,” I mutter, the words strained, my voice cracking under the weight of my own desperation. “Just… fuck me already.”

His laugh is low and dangerous, the sound of someone who’s already won.