Submitting To The Devil - The Devil's Snare - Book Two

Chapter Five

Niko

Just to annoy Luca for interrupting whatever was happening between Bianca and me back in my room, I ride in the car with them down to the docks like a f*****g gooseberry.

The silence is a killer at first; it makes me regret ever climbing up front and not taking my car where I could swear aloud to expel this energy suddenly building inside me.

We pulled up inside the docks forty minutes later, and I assessed Emma from the rearview.

She says she wants to take over, but I doubt her decision is based on an educated one.

But then again, it's not like I know her as I know Luca.

I head in promptly, needing to take a few minutes to gather myself whilst I collect the paperwork from one of the men. And then I walk through to the back room in their wake.

The first thing I see is the women, each fitting the same profile.

Young. Blonde. Curvy. The ideal perfection for certain men.

It's obvious the man has a type, and as I look down at the paperwork stuffed on a clipboard before me, I note precisely who's ordered them. It could be worse; it could be a man I cannot trust, but this man is a decent man. Well, as far as a mafia man can be, I suppose.

Each girl awaits on their knees, and I hold back just a little to assess how Luca and Emma work alongside one another. Emma stops dead, holding onto Luca as if her life depended on it. They hush words between themselves, and Luca remains stoic, as he often does during these transactions.

"I hate this as much as you; we have no choice," Luca whispers, barely above audible. I want to laugh, because, ironically, he hates this but has a choice on the flip side. He could refuse; he could put his foot down. But he doesn't, because deep down, he knows without a doubt that this is just part of the job, and without his father on board, he'll lose everything he's worked so f*****g hard for.

"Do you really think I'll continue to allow this when I take over?" She states. Her words make me smile because, yeah. She's got balls. Bigger ones than Luca has, for sure. But does she really think she'll be able to sway Dimitri and change the laws in which we follow? She can't seriously believe the takeover means she'll have sole choice over these matters? Elders stick around; that's their job after passing down the title—to govern the new in the ways of the old. To ensure that what they stand for doesn't perish under the youngen's rule.

"I'm betting on you changing everything, Bambina, but until then, we have to do as my father asks," Luca whispers. I really have to concentrate to hear him. It's obvious he's acting like a puppeteer, and it seems he has Emma exactly where he wants her.

Is that his ammo here?

"I hate this," she whispers as she walks away from him.

I go to move, introduce my presence and take Luca his paperwork as expected of me, but I'm stopped yet again by Emma's choice. Kneeling, she begins to greet the girls before her. She gives her name and shakes their hand. It's obvious she's trying to put them at ease, asking about themselves, extending an olive branch, so to speak. It makes me uncomfortable, yet it also makes me wonder what a future with her as my leader will potentially be like.

Turning to Luca, I notice him hanging off on her very existence. This motherfucker...just how f*****g hooked on her particular heroine is he?

I march forward in a huff due to my yo-yo-ing opinion on the pair before me, pushing the clipboard toward him, which he takes gingerly. Yet he still reads through the paperwork, searching for something in particular. He must find it because he nods as if happy with his findings—the same findings I had.

With that, he walks forward, reaching for Emma as if telling her it's time to stop making promises she can't keep. She stands willingly, and they walk off towards the back office as I grit my teeth.

"Get them ready for transport; they'll be flying out to Russia this afternoon," Luca calls behind him.

"Russia?" I hear Emma reply.

"Yes, do you remember, Ivan? We met at the dinner with the other heirs a few weeks back."

"Mhm."

"They are for his personal use. He's a good man. He'll treat them well," he squeezes out as if trying to convince himself of such a thing.

"I hate selling women as if they meant nothing," her voice trails off quietly as I look around at our men and the girls before me.

"You and me both. I need to call my father and report that all is well. After that, we'll go home, Bambina," Luca's voice remains loud enough to make out.

Looking around, I see every man watching me; I'm obviously acting strangely. Usually, I do my job without emotion or prompting. But not today.

Sighing, I walk over to Lionel and ask for the camera he's holding for me. Then, I turn to each of the girls.

"Strip, we need to ensure you travelled unharmed," I grate out, devoid of emotion.

The girls nod, standing up from their kneeled position stripping their clothing from their bodies. I start snapping pictures of each, marking the Polaroids with their names to ensure they can file with their correct files.

I try not to react, god I wish I couldn't. But blondes seem to be my thing, or at least they have been for much of my life, until this morning, when I had Bianca pushed against my door after seeing her being touched by Elio.

With a deepened sense of anger at not being able to control my own body around a woman, I grit my teeth and demand they feed the girls before I barge into the back.

Opening the door, I put my poker face on and stalk towards Emma.

She says she wants to be at the top; then I f*****g say let's give her a taste of what it'll be like.

Shoving the Polaroids at her, I smirk at her obvious upset as she looks over the documentation of how the girls look naked.

She flips through them as if recalling their names and faces, imprinting that guilt in her mind exactly how I wanted to.

She's too soft—she's a woman. It's bad enough being a man and having to do this s**t; how the f**k will she cope day in and day out dealing with this s**t?

Am I righteous for wanting to nip this in the bud right now by showing her these images in the hope she'll drop all pretence of 'wanting to be the big boss?'

Her throat bobs, and it's obvious she's trying to hold back something, but words spill from her mouth nevertheless as I glance quickly at Luca, who seems to be fuming at me.

"Why—?" She asks, shaking her hand as if saying, 'Why give me these pictures?'

I smile, sincerely, shrugging my shoulders as I move to lean against the wall as if this job really is the crème de le crème of all jobs I could find.

"You're the boss now; taking in the inventory is your job," I shrug.

"The girls?" Emma corrects me—I know it's a correction.

"Inventory, queen," I state back.

"They are girls, Niko, sweet, innocent young girls that have been ripped from—" she hisses with annoyance.

I should have allowed her to continue, let her think we were monsters like the rest of the men out there doing much the same things. But Luca's timely clearing of his throat and the instant heat I feel from his stare have me backtracking.

"Not ripped; all our girls come willingly. Give or take a few incentives," I recite simply, my brows furrowing because this contradicts the whole reason I gave her the goddamned images to begin with.

"What does that mean?" She asks quietly, her interest well and truly piqued.

Fuck, this isn't going at all how I planned in my head.

"We don't steal the girls as many do," Luca answers her begrudgingly. "These girls work in our clubs or houses. They are given the opportunity for better work. If they sign up, we sell them to the best suitor, and they get forty-five percent of the income."

When he recites the incentives, it shows humanity.

Our organisation has more humanity than most—but it's still insufficient.

"Pardon?" Emma questions, taking Luca the photos. I watch him stack them into piles. Dividing them between the paperwork he's laid in front of him. No doubt in age order.

I feel sick when he pulls Emma between his legs, pointing at each girl's file. Emma reads them avidly as if needing to get to know each girl more than she already did outside.

Her eyes scan the pages hungrily, and it's obvious she's taking in everything we've said and everything in the paperwork, multiplying things, and getting the correct sum.

Luca looks at me with mild annoyance, hating talking about this part of the job, no doubt.

"They all know?" She asks with a frail tone, though I'm not sure she's actually asking either of us.

"Yes," I answer simultaneously with Luca.

"Your father knows about this?" She stammers as she paces with agitation.

I frowned at her, not sure what she was thinking.

"His compromise," Luca grinds, moving the images before scraping the chair back.

I watch, a voyeur as I contemplate how to s**t my decision has gone, as Luca moves towards Emma.

"Hey," Luca calls her.

"You lied..."

"Have I?" He says, reaching for her hair.

"The girls chose this life. You've never told me that."

"Just because they agree doesn't mean we aren't trafficking them to some extent," he spits angrily.

"They're being paid—."

"And?" He asks angered.

"You aren't plucking them from their towns and whisking them halfway around the world to be r***d every day, Luca."

She has a point, one neither of us agrees with, but nevertheless, it's a point. I scrub my hand down my face out of rage that I've planted doubt in her mind.

"Might as well be. What does it matter that my father somehow convinced them to come? We're still selling their bodies for s****l enjoyment. Profiting off of them," Luca argues.

"It's different," she spits back just as harshly. And so I leave, slipping out the door unnoticed, fed up with listening to them.

I ensure the girls are ready and get them out of here. Dropping them off at the airport just before the plane picks them up.

Things move seamlessly, something I'm happy about because I need a f*****g distraction, and I know just who can give me it.

———

Andrea enters my car almost as soon as I pull up beside her apartment building. She's dressed in a long trench coat, no doubt with only underwear below, just as I like.

Smiling a hello, we don't say anything as I move the car back on the road and head home, excited to finally expel this weird f*****g need on a woman that knows I do the no attachment thing.

Andrea's a beautiful English girl. Blonde, tall and athletic and well built for a woman and f*****g good in bed. She works at the Downtown Club; everyone knows she is under my protection. All my regular girls are.

Not long after we leave town, we're pulling up at the front of the house. I skip around the car, open the door for Andrea, and hold my arm out for her to take again. We remain silent, walking in contentment.

We haven't said a word to one another when we walk into the house, and my instant happiness is cut f*****g short.

"Who the hell is she?" Bianca screams at me; just leaving the kitchen, she has the perfect view of the front door and reception area we're standing in. She marches down to us as I walk to her, a look of pure evil intent on her face as she stares Andrea down.

"Why don't you do everyone a favour and bring that yell to a halting stop? Go entertain yourself for a few hours whilst I do the same..." I hiss at Bianca, hoping she gets the damn message. It's been days since I've had any, more than I think. And my patience is running thin—this morning has left a f*****g foul taste in my mouth.

I need to f**k someone and forget all about Bianca's tight body pressed to the door by mine. Equally, I need to get her sharp jawline and chocolatey brown hair from my memory.

I step around her, heading for my office door with Andrea pulled along behind me. But Bianca doesn't know when to stop.

"Don't you f*****g dare," Bianca fumes, her eyes altering right before me. Their deep depths of earthy brownness make me trip; I cannot move an inch. I'm mesmerised. "I swear to god, if she takes one step closer, I'll."

"You'll what, Bianca?" I laugh nervously, moving towards her and away from Andrea, my arm outstretched between Andrea and me, and my other hand reaching for Bianca. I'm between the two.

My past and my present, so to speak.

And I'm confused.

I've never wanted a typical Italian girl, not until this morning, but my c**k is harder for Bianca than it is for Andrea right now.

Bianca must see the confusion on my face as she gravitates closer to me; it's dead silent except for her footfalls as we stare at one another. My heart starts to race, and an odd feeling of dread sits deep within my stomach. Something is happening again, and it's disconcerting.

Leaning forward, Bianca cups my cheek, boldly kissing me on the lips as if staking a claim to me.

Yet a-f*****g-gain, with the kissing me.

I don't kiss—anybody.

Suddenly, Bianca's backed off, moving around me to slap Andrea. I finally drop her hand, and she looks slightly stunned. Her eyes were wide, her cheek reddening with the slap she just received. I wish I felt terrible. I wish I felt nothing, but instead, pride spreads for Bianca, who is doing as she sees fit to claim me.

I'm so f*****g hard and needy for her, my c***s straining against my zipper.

"Ooooh, little Bee. You shouldn't have f*****g done that," I growl lowly into her ear as I grab her the second she tries to lunge forward for a second time to get a reaction from Andrea. She won't get one—a reaction—Andrea's a working girl with enough years behind her to know when not to make a f*****g sound. I push Bianca back, pinning her to the wall just outside the kitchen, opposite my office door, and speak without looking back. "Go, Andrea."

She moves, her heels clicking on the tiled floor almost immediately as evidence of her departure, not so much as a goodbye, just as there wasn't a hello.

It's our thing.

No talking, just f*****g and going our separate ways.

Clean. Cut. Simple.

"I'll do it again, don't you worry. Any girl—," Bianca shouts over me in warning, thinking Andrea will spread the word. She won't; I do not doubt that. My lips crash against hers, my hands greedy to f*****g touch any part of her available to me.

She tries to scramble away, obviously taken aback at my need for her, but I won't allow it; crushing her to me, I allow myself free reign to feel her neck, her chest, her breasts. Flicking her rapidly hardening n*****s to tease her body while riding the edge of pain.

"Niko..." she whispers so quietly I almost miss it when my lips move to her neck, my teeth scraping along the very vein, proving her wanton need.

Even so, as quiet as she was, it made no difference to the water doused over my arousal.

What the f**k am I doing?

Moving back, I allow her space, leaving one arm pressed against the wall, just enough space between us that we only touch when she takes a deep breath.

"Niko," she repeats my name.

"Go, Bianca!"

"Where?" She asks in a wounded tone that breaks me from the inside out.

"I don't f*****g care!" I lie, turning to storm away before I lose my restraint.