Chapter 62 Chapted 62
Belladonna
My brother tells me to come with him to the club; he has a meeting. He says since my exams are over, I should see how the businesses are run. I get dressed in a long black dress with a high slit. I wear pink heels and grab a matching pink purse. My makeup is sharp, as always—winged eyeliner, long lashes, dark lipstick. I tell Enzo I’ll take my car so he can’t say, “Dante will drop you home.” I drive my black Porsche and follow him, racing to the club.
We arrive and park in the VIP section. When I get out, I notice a casino next to the club. That’s a smart way to make money. We walk inside. The club isn’t dark-dark, the lights flash, music thumps in the background. We head to the lounge. A man is already talking to Enzo. I sit quietly, glancing around, taking everything in.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Enzo, standing up. My heels click on the floor as I move. I see strippers dancing nearby, men crowded around them, cheering. I walk past, keeping my eyes forward. I notice the VIP lounge upstairs. There are stairs, and I take them. Two bouncers watch me but don’t stop me.
Inside, some private couches are occupied—people kissing, talking, and drinking. I keep moving down the aisle. Then I see it: a large, tinted glass. Behind it, my heart jumps. A familiar face. Dante. He’s sitting on a couch, head resting back, hands spread on both sides. My steps stop. I freeze, staring at him. My throat goes dry. I gulp, my heart pounding in my chest. I can’t believe he’s here, like this, looking so dangerous, so perfect. I just stand there, watching.
There is a girl kneeling in front of her, she takes out his dick, damn it’s so huge. She licks him with her tongue teasing him for a moment. She eats his balls, her hands barely fits around his dick as she massages it, then she starts sucking his cock. I watch as she takes his full length inside her throat. Dante is moaning in pleasure. He then roughly grip his hair and pushing her down. He is enjoying it. I bite my lips. He roughly makes her suck him.
He then sees me and, he thrust his hip forward, thrusting deep in her throat. His gaze locks onto me, sharp and consuming. The scene in front of me is bold, shocking, and impossible to ignore. My knees feel weak, my chest tight, and my heart pounds like a drum. I can’t look away, and every movement he makes seems magnified, deliberate, pulling me into the moment even though I hate that I’m drawn to him. The girl gags, he releases in her mouth but his gazes are on me. My knees feels weak.
He orders the girl to get up and points toward the washroom. Without a word, she obeys, disappearing behind the door. Dante zips his pants, straightens his shirt, and rises slowly, like he has all the time in the world. My body stiffens as he walks toward me. I meet his steps with a deadly glare, my heart burning with anger.
“You enjoyed the show?” he asks, his voice calm, mocking, as he lights a cigar and exhales the smoke lazily.
I don’t answer, just glare harder, my chest tight with rage and disgust.
“Tell me…” his voice drops, almost daring me, “…that you wanted to be in her place.”
My stomach twists, but I don’t let him see weakness. “Oh, just fuck off. I hate you,” I snap, turning sharply on my heels.
I storm downstairs, my pulse racing, trying to erase the images stuck in my head. My legs feel like they could give out any second. I sit next to Enzo, pressing my knees together to stop the shaking. I order a drink, trying to steady my voice.
Enzo studies me carefully. “What happened to you?”
I force a smile and shake my head. “Nothing.”
He narrows his eyes, unconvinced. “You seem like you’ve seen a ghost.”
The waiter arrives with my drink, a prosecco gin, the glass sparkling in the dim light. I wrap my fingers around it and take a slow sip, the bubbles crisp against my tongue. Enzo is talking beside me, his voice steady, explaining business moves, tips, little tricks of the trade. He sips his whiskey with calm authority. I nod and listen, but my mind keeps slipping away, drifting back to Dante, to what I just saw upstairs, to the size of his dick, the way he moved. My stomach knots, shame and heat twisting together.
Minutes pass. Then Dante appears. His presence fills the space before he even speaks. He greets Enzo and the other man with an easy, confident tone, then drops down on the couch right beside me. Too close. My body stiffens.
“With a smirk, my brother gestures toward me. ‘Belladonna… I present you to the club’s owner, Dante Manchini.’”
He owns the place... “No wonder he rules this place like a king.” I say voice calm.
“Hi, Belladonna,” he says, his voice low, teasingly cold, like he knows exactly how to crawl under my skin.
I clear my throat, bring the glass back to my lips, and drink, pretending to be focused only on the fizz and the taste. I keep my eyes forward, minding my business, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
But then he leans in, close enough for his breath to brush my ear. “You wanted me. Didn’t you?” he whispers.
A shiver runs down my spine before I can stop it. I force myself to stay still, to act like I didn’t hear him, like his words mean nothing. But inside, I know, someday, this man will traumatize me.