Page 68 of Wicked Truths
My nails claw at the back of his neck. He groans as he presses his cock against me, only the material of my panties and his trousers stopping the force of how he wants to take me.
And then he stops.
I stare at his face, but he isn’t looking at me. He holds me still as he looks over my shoulder.
“Fuck,” he hisses and grasps my waist as he stands and places my feet on the floor. “I took my eye off the room.”
I turn around.
The room is filled with people in black pointing guns at the men. The woman is yanking her arms and legs against the binds, frantically trying to escape. A man has his mask dragged off his head.
“Is this a mafia hold-up?” My heart pounds as I stare into the room. One of the men in black is looking directly at the window.
Can he see us?
Is he wondering where Dominic and the other Syndicate leaders are?
He steps closer to the window, as all the men hold their hands up in surrender.
A balaclava mask still covers his face, and I’m drawn to his eyes.
Eyes that are looking directly at me, but I know he can’t see me.
I turn to Dominic, who is already on the phone, ordering his men to meet him somewhere outside.
I twist back to the sex room. The woman is now unbound.
“Or is it the police?” I ask.
“Time to go,” Dominic says.
I nod and my eyes lock onto the man as he slaps cuffs onto another man’s wrists. But I’m not paying too much attention to the arrest. I’m looking at beautiful eyes...gray eyes I recognize.
I blink hard as a shudder runs through me.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, my hand slamming against my chest.
Dominic disconnects his call. “We need to get out of here.” He takes my hand, dragging me away from the window.
I look back once more and mouth, “Why?”
I stumble as Dom drags me through the back corridors of the club, my heels clicking against the polished concrete floor. His grip on my wrist is tight enough to leave marks.
“Dom, you’re hurting me.”
He loosens his hold but doesn’t let go. “The raid took place in the entire club, not just in this room. The tip I gavewas ignored. Which means your blackmailer didn’t trust you.”
My heart pounds against my ribs. “Oh my God.”
Dom grabs my hand again and pulls me toward the exit. “We’re not done with this conversation.”
17
Amara
Outside the room, footstepssound all around us as I remember Dominic flashing a card over a reader for entry. I recall Milly’s warning about this area being a secret—the place wealthy people come to enact their darkest fantasies.
He takes my hand and we jog down the hallway, in the opposite direction from where we came in.
