Page 22 of Sweet Torture (Torture Games #1)

SEVENTEEN

CHAOS

W e meet at Angelo’s, and I spot her sitting at my table when I walk in.

I made it very clear to Angelo over the phone to treat her like royalty.

Standing by the door, I survey the area before I approach her.

After the night I had, I needed to be more vigilant. It isn’t just about me anymore.

She swirls what I can only assume is whiskey in a tumbler, and her eyes dart from table to table, watching the lives of others, fascinated by their actions. A soft smile is on her lips, and other than the last time, her makeup is toned down, and her dress is somewhat modest.

It is a black turtleneck with three-quarter sleeves that leave room for the multitude of bangles on each arm, which tinkle with every rotation of the glass .

I walk closer and watch as her face lights up when she spots me weaving through the tables.

How is it that one look from her can change my whole mood?

“Hi there, Chaos. For a moment, I thought you had ditched me, and I would be having dinner alone.” She gets up and hugs me. I pull her even closer, relishing the way her body fits mine perfectly.

When I let go, she grabs me by the shoulders to stare into my eyes.

“What is wrong? Did something happen? Just give me a name.”

Her tone is serious, and I don’t doubt for a second that she would burn this city down to find the person who has wronged me. This information could be useful for the future if you ask me.

“It was just a long day, and I can’t wait to relax in your company. Can we sit down now?”

Reluctantly, she lets me go, and I choose the seat on the booth bench next to hers. Once seated, I put my hand on her thigh and grab her glass from the table. She smirks while I empty the glass and beckon a waiter closer to get a refill.

“My, my, it must have been a bad day for you to be so arrogant as to take what is mine. Want to talk about it?” she asks.

I shake the glass at the waiter, “Two of whatever this was.” I put the glass down when the waiter practically runs to the bar, and I turn to face her.

I am not a touchy-feeling kind of guy and would like nothing more than to ignore her question and continue with our night.

But I can see from the look on her face that she is not going to let this go.

“I miss you, that’s all,” I say instead.

The words feel strange forming on my lips, and I don’t think I have ever said them out loud to anyone. Not even my mother.

She places her hand on my cheek and leans closer to kiss my forehead. The action is so intimate, and I have no words to describe the feelings rushing to my head. Confusion? No woman has ever treated me this way. Granted, I never gave them a choice.

It is her words, however, that break my last restraint.

“You can trust me. I will take care of you. No matter what.”

She is leaning her forehead against mine, and I can hear the sincerity in her tone. She truly believes I need care.

I cough and sit back, eager to move past the vulnerable moment. The waiter approaches the table with two glasses, and I empty the drink before he puts her glass down.

“Get me another,” I instruct.

“No!” Her voice carries over the tables, and some customers turn in their seats .

“Excuse me?” The familiar feeling of disgust rolls in, and I ball my fists to keep it inside.

She waves off the waiter and whispers in my direction.

“I said no, Chaos. You need me, not alcohol. And if you want me to play with you tonight, it will be on my terms. So, let’s eat and have a nice dinner, but if you order one more drink, you will go home alone tonight.”

I know better than to argue with that tone of voice. Naz places her hand high on my thigh, and the contact makes me regret the whole notion of eating dinner.

“In that case, let’s go home now.”

I know I am pushing my luck, but I couldn’t help it.

The look she gives me is incontestable, and I know I have lost before she speaks a word.

“You are already in so much trouble, Chaos; let’s not make it worse by you throwing a tantrum in our favorite restaurant. You promised me dinner, and I will have dinner.”

She treats me like a little kid.

“For fuck’s sake, I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

She leans over me, cutting me off from the rest of the room, and I feel her hand creeping towards my nipple. I grind my teeth together when she twists my nipple and whispers into my ear in her breathy voice.

“You can most certainly do anything you want, Mister Big Businessman. But if you want to sink deeply into my already-soaked pussy, grab my incredible breasts, and feast on the goodies I offer only to you, you will behave and eat your dinner like a good boy. Do you understand?”

Her fingers have been tiptoeing up my thigh, and with her question, she digs her nails into my hardness.

Nodding, I lean closer when she sits back, missing the spicy floral scent captured by her hair.

The waiter cautiously approaches the table, and I am a lamb compared to my demeanor before. “I will have the steak, thank you.”

He nods and turns to Naz.

“Oh, I will have whatever the chef’s special is.” She smiles sweetly.

The waiter leaves, and I concentrate on our surroundings.

In a far corner, I see a man staring at us in curiosity.

His gaze doesn’t waver as we make eye contact, and I make a mental note to ask Angelo about him when I see him later.

He knows most of the people who frequent his establishment, and he is bound to have a name to give me.

“I am going to go wash my hands.”

Abruptly, I get up and stride to the washroom.

While taking a piss, I hear the door open and close.

Not paying any more attention, I finish and turn to find the stranger who was staring at me earlier, leaning against the wash basin counter.

“Fancy meeting you here.” His smile is crooked, and I already know I will despise this human being. As I said, thanks to my dear old alcoholic dad, I can always spot rotting evil a mile away.

I decided to play it cool, curious to know what he wants from me. Still tucked into my pants, my gun presses into my back.

“Do we know each other?” I act nonchalant while washing my hands under the scalding water.

Folding his arms, he widens his stance as if preparing for something.

“No, but I know you. You are quite the talk of the town.”

I shake the excess water off before taking a brilliant white washcloth to dry it.

“I am intrigued. What has the town been saying?” My tone is non-committal as I throw the cloth in the basket provided. I take my time to lean against the counter with my hip and take in my new opponent.

A few seconds pass before he opens his slimy mouth again.

“It is said that you are a man not to be crossed. And I found it quite interesting that a criminal of your stature was so revered in high society. I guess they are all hypocrites, right? Hiding their true nature from the world, just like me and you.”

I don’t like the notion of being tossed into the same bag as this man, and I am sure he can see it from the pull of my eyebrow.

“That is interesting. But if we move in the same circles, I would be amiss not to make your acquaintance. You clearly know who I am, but who are you?”

He ignores my outstretched hand. "It's not important. I am very curious to know how you met the young lady you are with.”

I face him, folding my arms and standing my ground. “What the fuck does my relationship with Naz have to do with you?”

“Naz, you say? She always had a flair for the dramatic, don’t you think?” He smarms.

I hear the door open again, and I shout, “fuck off!”

The door quickly closes, and I focus on the stranger before me. “I demand you tell me how you know Naz.”

He chuckles, and I clench my fists.

“Your demands won’t work on me. I am like you. Or so I have heard. That was until I saw her manipulate you at the table. I am curious, did she promise you pussy? Because you know if she signed that contract, then you can take whatever you want from her.”

I blink, and when I open my eyes, I have my hands around his throat in a punishing, rugged grip. He is backed against the wall, and he is calm as can be.

“Want to explain to me exactly how you know these things?” I seethe through clenched teeth.

The evil smile that spreads across his face is more evidence that I won't like the answer.

“She was my bitch, of course. I am surprised she has any more to give. She used to guzzle down my dick like it was her last meal. Actually, it came pretty close to that a time or two. But I see you have decided to play the long game. Tell me, has she shown you her scars? I was particularly proud of the one on her wrists.”

Confusion mars my face as sweat runs down my temple.

“She was your sub?” I ask.

He snorts, and I tighten my fingers. Still, he doesn’t attempt to loosen my grip.

“Please, she was nothing to me. A good time to be had until she cried wolf to the authorities. Actually, I should thank her. That is how I met my wife,” he keens.

I drop my hand and take a step back. “You are married?”

He rubs his neck and smiles fully. “Of course, Naz, as you call her, is damaged goods, not wife material. Good enough to fuck and suck, but nothing more. Unless you want your children to be whores like her. Not that she could give you any.”

“Any what?”

“Children. Didn’t you know? She is a pathetic failure on every plane. Even as a fuck doll. Boy, I still remember all the blood when she said no that night. As if she had any right to refuse me.” He is rubbing his hands in glee.

My fist connects with his chin, and his head whips back and strikes the wall behind him.

Dazed, he doesn’t see the second blow coming, and he doubles over when I hit him square in the stomach.

Lifting my knee with enough force, I hear the bones in his nose crack.

His head falls to the side with blood spurting everywhere.

I push him over and see him drop to the floor in agony.

I kneel by his side and hiss near his ear. “If I ever see you again in my life, I will finish what I have started here today. And if you really know my reputation, you will know this isn’t a threat but a promise.”

I kick him as hard as I can, narrowly missing his balls. All the same, he curls in pain, and I leave the restroom invigorated that at least once today, I protected her honor.

However, when I turn the corner and see her sitting there, calmly waiting for my return, I am reminded of his words.

Damaged goods, not wife material.

And I do something I haven’t done since I was a young boy.

I turn and run.

Because she isn’t the only one.