Breaking the Heartless Capo

The Contract

He never does callbacks, Syrene thought, her mind spinning with confusion as she slid into the leather interior. He just f***s and tosses. Still, she kept her composure, refusing to let her internal panic show.

The driver hopped into the front seat, adjusting his rearview mirror to glance at her. "I'm Marco, by the way," he offered with a polite nod before pulling out into the night traffic.

As they drove, Syrene realized he was bringing her straight to her own club. Well, he did bring me here, she reasoned silently. Maybe he really did request me through the agency.

When they arrived, Marco hurried around to open her door, offering a firm hand to help her out.

"Thanks, Marco," she said smoothly, smoothing down the bright pink dress that barely covered her ass before stepping inside.

The moment she crossed the velvet rope, the loud music and heavy scent of liquor washed over her.

"Hey, Syrene! Looking hot as hell," a regular named Johnny called out from a high-top table, eyeing her outfit up and down. "Let me buy your fine ass a drink!"

Syrene shot him a cold, dirty look. "I'm busy," she snapped, not slowing her pace as she headed straight for the manager's office.

Her boss was waiting outside the VIP hallway, looking nervously at his watch. "You made it. Room Five. He’s waiting, and he is not a patient man, so hurry up."

"Nice to see you, too," Syrene replied dryly.

She walked down the dimly lit corridor, stopping in front of Room Five. Taking a steadying breath, she knocked three times.

"Enter," a deep voice rumbled from inside.

She opened the door, and there he was—looking infuriatingly handsome. Roman sat in a plush leather booth, a glass of bourbon in his hand. His dark eyes locked onto hers the moment she stepped inside, staring deep into her soul in a way that made her thoroughly uncomfortable. Refusing to show a single crack in her armor, she sauntered across the room with effortless poise and took a seat at the opposite side of the table.

Roman tilted his head, a sly smirk spreading across his sharp features. "Baby... why are you sitting so far away? Are you scared?"

Syrene scoffed, a flash of pure defiance taking over. To prove just how unfazed she was, she stood up, walked around the table, and sank directly into his lap. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird, and her palms felt clammy, but she forced her expression to remain deadpan as she looked him dead in the eye. "There. Is this better?"

Roman straightened slightly, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his eyes before it was quickly replaced by an intense, dark hunger. "You are very bold, Syrene," he murmured, a dangerous glint in his gaze.

He slid his large hand up her thigh, slowly pushing her legs apart. His fingers brushed against her bare, weeping p***y, and he paused, holding her gaze captive. "No panties, Baby?" he rasped, his thumb lightly caressing her sensitive p***y. "I haven't even touched you yet, and you're already dripping for me."

Have you looked in a mirror lately? You're hot as f**k, and your voice makes my p***y melt. She blurted out, then slapped her hand to her mouth, still maintaining fierce eye contact as she spread her legs a fraction wider, practically daring him.

Roman let out a low chuckle at her bratty attitude and sheer honest coomment. "Pour yourself a drink, Syrene."

She reached over, filled a glass with four ounces of straight whiskey, and slammed it back in one gulped shot, setting the empty glass back down on the table without flinching.

Fuck, why did I just say that? How embarrassing. She was having an full internal breakdown.

Roman looked down at her, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours, Syrene?"

"I'm just telling myself off internally for blurting out what I was thinking," she admitted, her cheeks burning as a wave of sudden embarrassment washed over her.

"You're very adorable right now."

Roman watched her every move with hawkish intensity. Without warning, he plunged two fingers deep inside her wet, tight p***y, making her gasp sharply and grip his muscular forearm for balance.

"I have an offer for you," Roman said, his voice dropping into a low, businesslike rumble while his fingers maintained a torturously slow rhythm inside her.

"An offer?" she repeated, her voice remarkably steady despite the friction between her thighs. "What kind of offer?"

He nodded toward the piece of paper resting beside his drink. "Read it."

Syrene reached out, picked up the paper, to read it. As her eyes swept over the crisp, legally styled text, she kept her expression totally neutral, hiding her rising shock.

"An entire year?" she asked, looking back up to meet his dark gaze. "That's pretty excessive. You don't seem like the type of man to sign long-term s*x contracts, and this one seems a bit flimsy for someone in your position. Does this exclusivity clause work both ways, or am I the only one who has to remain exclusive?"

Roman took a slow sip of his bourbon, his dark eyes sparkling with cold arrogance. "Just you," he said simply.

Syrene stared at him for a long, heavy second before letting out a quiet scoff. "Well, that's a dealbreaker for me," she said, looking him dead in the eye.

Roman's hand stilled inside her, his jaw clenching as his eyes narrowed to dark slits. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to, Syrene?"

"You might have mentioned it," she countered, her tone dripping with sweet defiance. "You're Roman... though I don't recall you ever mentioning your last name."

Oh, I am pissing this guy off so bad right now, Syrene thought, her pulse electric with adrenaline. But f**k him. He wants me on call for a whole year to satisfy his every dark craving, while he gets to f**k whoever he wants? f**k him, f**k his contract, and f**k his title.

Roman stared at her in dead silence, the air in the room turning suffocatingly heavy as the powerful Capo weighed the absolute audacity of the woman sitting in his lap.

"Take my c**k out and suck it," Roman commanded, his voice cold and uncompromising as he gripped her waist and lifted her off his lap.

Syrene offered a slow, deliberate smile as she dropped to her knees between his thighs. Unbuckling his leather belt, she unzipped his dark trousers and reached inside, freeing his massive c**k. It was already throbbing and completely hard, a bead of clear pre-c*m glistening at the tip. Keeping her gaze locked directly on his, she leaned in, swirling her tongue over the crown to lap up every drop before licking a wet stripe all the way down his shaft.

Without breaking eye contact, she opened her mouth wide and slammed herself down onto his c**k, taking all ten inches straight to the back of her throat without a single flinch or gag.

"Fuck..." Roman hissed, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the polished wooden table.

Syrene began to bob her head—slowly at first, teasing him with the tight squeeze of her lips, before accelerating into a frantic, demanding pace. She used her mouth with hungry precision, slicking him with saliva as she took him deep over and over. Roman’s dark eyes flashed, his patience snapping as he reached down and tangled his large hand firmly into her dark hair. Holding her head still, he thrusted up into her throat three sharp times before pinning her flush against his groin as his body went rigid.

Thick, hot waves of his load spurted straight down her throat, nearly making her choke. Syrene swallowed every last drop without missing a beat, sliding her tongue along his c**k to clean him completely before pulling back.

Remembering how volatile he had been when she tried to dress and leave after their last encounter, she remained kneeling on the cold floor, resting her hands on his thighs while she waited for his next move.

Roman lay back against the plush leather of the VIP booth, his eyes closed and his chest heaving as he caught his breath. After a long, heavy silence, his dark eyes opened, landing on her kneeling form.

"Why are you still on your knees?" he asked, his tone dropping into a low rumble. "Sit beside me."

Syrene pushed herself up off the floor and slid onto the leather seat right beside him. Before she could adjust her dress, Roman reached out, wrapping his heavy arm around her waist and hauling her tight against his side. His thumb pressed firmly into her hip bone, anchoring her to him.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" Roman murmured, his deep voice vibrating against her ear as he leaned in close. "Refusing my contract, pretending you don't care who I am..."

Syrene kept her head held high, though her heart was pounding hard against her ribs. "I don't make habit of signing my life away to men who treat me like an option, Roman."

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his sharp face, his dark eyes glittering with a mixture of anger and raw fascination. "You don't get a say in how this ends, Syrene. You're already in my world... and I always get what I want."