Page 18 of The Beast Who Bought Me
The cage around my cock feels like it might snap from the pressure.
CHAPTER 8
DAMIANO
The room might be silent,but blood rushes and sings in my ears. I’ve never been so focused, so completely present in a moment.
Not for twenty-one years.
Twenty-one years I’ve waited for this moment. Twenty-one years of rage crystallized into a single victory.
The Clemenza stands his ground as I approach. Objectively, he’s a nice-looking thing—the slender frame, the bright hair, the way his shoulders rise and fall as his breathing quickens. He doesn’t need all that gold shit they put on him, or the makeup, either. I tower over him, and he has to tilt his head back to keep eye contact. But looking down into that stubborn face—Christ, he looks so much like his father—I find myself entranced by those honey-gold eyes again.
He stares back, trying to be brave. He doesn’t understand—not yet—but he will. And I want to revel in this moment, the moment Iwon. I reach out and wrap my hand around his golden throat. He just looks at me with those haunting eyes.
I flex my fingers slightly. “You’re mine now, golden boy.” Those eyes drop at last, and I have to kill a triumphant smirk.
When I pull my hand away, the print of it remains wrapped around his throat, an absence in the gold dust marking my first claim on him. I turn to the crowd and hold up my hand, showing them my gilded palm.
“Mine,” I announce.
None of them speak. They understand now that I’m willing to pay any price to have this prize. The ten million I’ve paid is nothing compared to the debt I’m collecting.
There’s just one problem…but I won’t worry about it now. I’ll stay in this half-crazed joy tonight and worry about the rest of the world tomorrow.
In silence, the crowd starts to disperse. The most powerful people in this city, used to taking what they want, surrender to my claim. Whoever it was who tipped me off tonight, I owe them.
I got an anonymous text a half hour ago, suggesting I get to the Obelisk fast. I almost ignored it. But Fate is finally on my side.
I turn back to Caligula Clemenza, whose eyes have risen again. “Who—” he begins.
I put a finger over his lips to silence him. His mouth feels soft under my touch. When I take my hand away, the golden print of my finger stays stamped across his lips like a seal. What would it feel like to break that seal? Drive deep into that sweet mouth…
But that’s not why I bought him.
“Get this cleaned up,” I tell King. “Now.”
Daniel King steps closer instead of hurrying to obey. “One year,” he says quietly, so that not even the Clemenza can hear him. “No permanent physical injuries or scars. And he is returned alive, Orsini. Those are the terms.”
I give a scoff of laughter. “Right.”
“Come with me to settle the account.” He turns to Jesse Foster, who’s lurking in the wings of the stage like the rat he is. King snaps his fingers at him. “Jesse. Take the merchandise to be prepared, then escort it to the private garage.” King glances back at me, professional despite the dislike evident in the set of his mouth. “Regarding the ornamentation—it’s yours, of course, but if you’d prefer we remove it?—”
“Leave it,” I cut him off. “Get moving,” I tell Foster.
“Yes, sir.” Foster, at least, knows his place, jumping to obey.
The idea of keeping Caligula Clemenza plugged and caged until I choose to release him gives me another thrill of pleasure. I want him to feel the humiliation of being trussed up like that.
To begin to understand what it means to be powerless.
King beckons to me. “This way, Mr. Orsini.”
I follow him through dark hallways to his office, where he gestures for me to sit not at the desk, but on a small leather couch in the corner.
“Bourbon is your drink, I believe?” he asks, already reaching for a crystal decanter.
“Neat.”
