Page 58 of Sins and Virtue

I paused in mid-stride, my jaw tightening as the image of Blair kneeling on the floor, between my legs, bare naked— no, actually, I’d love to see her with her wet nun garment as the water dripped down her breast and over every curve as I’d rip it off bit by bit— her hair unveiled, running wild as I’d indulge in wrapping my fist into it.

Those unholy thoughts ran my blood to my cock.

Shit. Snapping out of the lust haze, I recalled my surroundings, and now was the worst moment to think of that.

Dya laughed like a maniac in the back.Ah, I love all the ways I get to taunt you, Kon.

I hate you.

The feeling is mutual.

I wasn’t going to argue anymore; besides standing here like some creep, we needed to get down to business. Scouting the VIP section, I see a man sitting in one of the red velvet lounge chairs with two half-naked women, one on each side, pressing themselves against him. Although he looked entertained, there was a veil of detachment, like none of those women could ever satisfy what he truly wanted— or whom.

The longer I watched, the more familiar the face became. The flashing disco lights exposed the contour of his face. His face faded in my mind as a man behind a cell who kneeled and prayed every day. Approaching him, I proceed with caution. “Tomaso?”

He appeared to hear me as his sight landed on me. “That’s not my real name.”

“Then what is?”

He sighed deeply, his eyes tracking the edge of the table before he said with a native Italian accent. “Salvatore Ferrari.”

Ferrari? Traces of faint familiarity ate at my mind. “Ferrari, like Casanova Ferrari, the head of the Camorra?” My brows stitched together, asking for clarity.

“The one and only.” Salvatore hummed as he turned to the ladies. “Now,mia bellas,off you go.”

The women whined in protest, but he still shooed them away like the old popular bachelor he appeared to be as we ended up leaving alone.

He perched off his seat, rising to his full height that nearly replicated mine, buttoning his tux, and extended his hand. Out of respect for the elderly, I shook his hand formally.

A strange harboring sensation of nostalgia hit me like the cold pine air of Russian winter— so homey yet distant. Small flashes of masculine and feminine laughter overlapped one another in a very bright room where the sunlight peeked through the terracotta-colored curtain, echoes of soft violin chords playing in the background as I heard the words, “Do it again, my sweet boy! Do it!”

Harshly, I retrieve my hand from his.

Salvatore’s expression morphed into concern. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” I didn’t quite understand it myself. Whatever the hell it was didn’t involve him. “I just… never mind.”

“Well, glad to see you're doing alright.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Call me Salvatore. I’m not that old.”

Old enough to be my father, but petty comments like that wouldn’t serve anything.

I only inclined my head, glancing at the space around us until the awkwardness settled.

“Please sit.”

Walking up to the platform, I took the seat across from him.

“Drink?” He offered, sitting back down.

“No, thank you.” I turned down, needing to have full sentience and clarity in this situation. Needing to gain information on my new ally or enemy.

My fingers played with the blue bracelet around my wrist, not wanting to waste time and chit-chat while Salvatore seemed to absorb it like he wanted it.

I ran a thumb over my curious brow. “I must admit I don’t understand her approach. Out of everyone in the world, why me? Contrary to the belief, I don’t believe I’m not that special.” The realism in my words was the only thing I knew.