CHAPTER 4- The Deal
1029 Words
Eva Moretti
I woke up the next morning convinced I’d dreamed the whole thing.
The velvet walls. The soft silk around my wrists. Marco’s mouth at my ear, whispering he wanted me begging.
Except I hadn’t dreamt it.
I was still in Milan. And I still owned a damn s*x dungeon.
I stared at my reflection in the hotel bathroom mirror, my hair a mess, makeup smudged under my eyes. I looked like a woman who’d done something reckless.
Which, technically, I had.
This can’t happen again. I’m selling that place. I’m getting the hell out.
I was halfway through brushing my teeth when my phone rang.
Unknown number.
My gut clenched.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, Eva.”
Marco’s voice. Smooth. Dangerous. Like black silk sliding over skin.
“How the hell did you get my number?” I snapped.
He chuckled. “Lawyers are easy to track. Your phone’s registered to your firm.”
“Stalker.”
“Careful,” he murmured. “I prefer the term persistent.”
“I’m busy,” I said.
“I’ll keep it short. Come back to the club.”
“Not a chance.”
“I’ll make it worth your time.”
“No.”
“Lunch, then. Public place. No silk, I swear.”
I hesitated. He sensed it.
“Eva. Give me one hour. If you’re not convinced, I’ll walk away for good.”
Liar.
But curiosity burned through me all over again.
We met at a sleek rooftop restaurant overlooking the Duomo. The breeze carried the scent of basil and roasted garlic, but my appetite was gone the second I saw Marco.
He was leaning against the railing, black shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at sculpted muscle, dark hair tousled by the wind.
He smiled when he saw me. “Hello, trouble.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He pulled out a chair for me. “Sit. Let’s talk business.”
The second I sat, Marco leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“You’re making a mistake selling the dungeon.”
I crossed my arms. “That’s not your decision.”
“It could make a fortune. It’s private. Exclusive. Safe. And you’d be surprised how many people in Milan’s elite are regular clients.”
“I’m a lawyer, not a…”
He cut me off. “Not a madam? No one’s asking you to be. Hire managers. Let me run it. You’d be silent ownership.”
My jaw dropped. “Let you run it?”
His voice went low. “I already do run it.”
My heart stuttered.
“You…run my aunt’s dungeon?”
Marco lifted his wine glass. “Your aunt and I were partners. She trusted me to keep things…discreet.”
I felt like the world tilted under my feet.
“So what, you’re some kinky businessman? Or is this part of your mafia empire?”
His eyes flared dangerously. “Careful, Eva.”
I leaned closer, ignoring my shaking hands. “Why are you so desperate for me to keep it?”
Marco smirked. “Because I like the idea of you owning it. Of you walking through those doors, knowing exactly what happens there. And knowing you want it, even if you’re terrified to admit it.”
Heat shot up my neck.
“I don’t want it.”
“Then why do your pupils dilate every time I mention it?”
I pushed back my chair. “This is insane.”
Marco reached out and gently caught my wrist.
“Eva.”
I froze.
He lowered his voice. “You think you’re so different from the people who come to that place. But you’re not. You want to let go. You want someone to take the pressure off. Even just for one night.”
“Stop psychoanalyzing me,” I whispered.
Marco leaned closer, voice gentle. “I’m not judging you. I’m offering you a way to explore it safely. On your terms. Without shame.”
I yanked my hand back. “Even if I was curious, I don’t want to be tied to you. Or your mafia bullshit.”
Marco’s jaw ticked. “My business stays separate from the dungeon.”
“Bullshit,” I snapped. “Everything’s connected with men like you.”
His eyes flashed. “You think your corporate world is cleaner? I’ve seen the client list. Half your board members are regulars.”
My mouth dropped open. “You’re lying.”
He shook his head. “I’m not. And if you sell it, whoever buys it won’t keep it private. They’ll expose every name on that list and yours will be attached by inheritance.”
My chest squeezed so tight it hurt.
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m protecting you,” he said softly.
“Bullshit.”
Marco sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Eva, you’re in deeper than you know. Let me keep you safe.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m selling it. I’m walking away.”
Marco lowered his voice. “If you sell it, you’ll put yourself on the radar of people who don’t forgive mistakes. People who’d hurt you to protect their secrets.”
I went cold all over. “Why do you care what happens to me?”
He stared at me for a long moment. Then he said quietly:
“Because the first time I saw you, I wanted you. And the second time, I wanted to protect you. And I can’t separate those things anymore.”
It was too much. Too intense. Too fast.
“You’re insane.”
He gave a wry smile. “Probably.”
I rose, fumbling for my purse.
“Eva.”
“No. We’re done.”
I turned and stormed toward the elevator. My pulse thundered in my ears.
I was halfway there when Marco’s voice called out, low but firm:
“Don’t sell it. Or you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
I spun around. “Was that another threat?”
He just stared at me, eyes unreadable.
“No. That was a promise.”
“Maybe the dungeon wasn’t the real trap. Maybe Marco was.”
- Writer
