The door clicked shut behind me with a finality that sent my pulse racing.
Bianca Moretti leaned back on the leather couch, one long leg crossed over the other, the slit in her red dress riding dangerously high. The private lounge was dimly lit, all dark wood and expensive leather, with a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city lights. Two glasses of whiskey sat on the low table in front of her.
“Sit,” she ordered, nodding to the spot beside her.
I stayed standing for a second, staring her down. Pain throbbed in my side, but I refused to show it. “I didn’t come here to play games, Bianca.”
She smiled, slow and sharp. “Yet here you are, bleeding all over my carpet after losing everything at my table. Sit the fuck down, Damien. Before you fall down.”
I lowered myself onto the couch, keeping space between us. She handed me one of the glasses. I took it, the amber liquid burning nicely as I swallowed.
“Talk,” she said simply. “What did Isabella do to you? The real story. Not the street version.”
I stared into the whiskey for a moment, then met her eyes. “She shot me. Twice. Once in the chest, once in the gut. On the docks. While smiling. Don Rossi watched the whole thing. They left me there to die in the rain like garbage.”
Bianca’s eyebrows rose slightly. She took a slow sip, studying me. “And yet you’re here. Breathing. Playing poker with a hole in your side. Why come to me?”
“Because you hate the Rossis almost as much as I do right now.” I leaned forward, ignoring the stab of pain. “Your family’s been losing territory to them for months. You need muscle. I need resources. Money. Weapons. A real place to heal and plan.”
She laughed softly, setting her glass down. “Bold. Most men who crawl away from Isabella come begging for mercy. You come asking for an alliance while you can barely stand.”
“I’m not begging.” My voice dropped. “I’m offering you a chance to watch them burn… and to get something you want in return.”
Her eyes darkened with interest. She shifted closer, her knee brushing mine. “And what do you think I want, Damien?”
I held her gaze. “Power. Revenge. And right now?” I let my eyes drop deliberately to the way her dress hugged her body. “You want to see how much fire is still left in a dead man.”
The air between us thickened. Bianca reached out, her fingers tracing the edge of my hoodie where blood had seeped through. She pressed lightly against the wound. I hissed in pain but didn’t pull away.
“You’re still bleeding,” she murmured, almost tenderly. “Does it hurt?”
“Like hell.”
“Good.” She leaned in until her lips were inches from mine. “Pain keeps you sharp. Now tell me… when she pulled that trigger, did you still love her?”
My jaw clenched. “I loved the woman I thought she was. That woman is dead to me.”
Bianca’s hand slid lower, resting on my thigh. “Prove it.”
The challenge in her voice sent heat rushing through me despite everything. I grabbed her wrist, holding it firm. “Careful. I’m not one of your pretty boys you can toy with.”
Her eyes flashed with excitement. “Then show me, Vale. Show me what a man who got betrayed by the woman he loved can do.”
I moved fast, ignoring the screaming protest from my wounds. I pushed her back against the couch, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. My body covered hers, the heat between us instant and dangerous.
Bianca gasped, but her lips curved into a wicked smile. “There he is.”
“Shut up,” I growled, crashing my mouth against hers.
The kiss was brutal. Angry. Hungry. She bit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood, and I kissed her harder, my free hand sliding up that high slit in her dress, gripping her thigh possessively. She arched into me, moaning softly into my mouth.
I broke the kiss, breathing hard. “You think you can use me?”
“I know I can,” she whispered, eyes half-lidded. “But maybe I’ll let you use me too.”
My hand moved higher, fingers brushing against lace. She was already wet. I pressed two fingers against her through the fabric, rubbing slow circles. Bianca’s breath hitched.
“Fuck… you’re bold for a man who should be dead,” she moaned.
I slipped the lace aside and pushed two fingers inside her without warning. She was tight, hot, and soaking. Her hips bucked against my hand as I worked her, thumb pressing against her clit.
“Tell me you’ll help me,” I demanded, curling my fingers deep.
She laughed breathlessly, then moaned as I hit the right spot. “Make me come first… then we’ll talk terms.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I fucked her with my fingers harder, faster, my mouth latching onto her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Bianca’s moans grew louder, her hips grinding against my hand desperately.
“Yes… right there— fuck, Damien!”
Her body tensed, thighs clamping around my hand as she came hard, shaking beneath me. I kept going through it, drawing it out until she was gasping and pushing at my chest.
I pulled my hand back, looking her dead in the eyes as I licked my fingers clean. “Your move, princess.”
Bianca stared at me, chest heaving, lips swollen. For the first time, real respect mixed with the lust in her eyes.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” she said, voice husky. “I’ll give you money. A safehouse. Weapons. But I’m not your fucking servant. We do this as partners. And when you finally get Isabella on her knees…” She smiled darkly. “I want to be there to watch.”
I nodded. “Agreed.”
She sat up, fixing her dress, but the mark I left on her neck was clearly visible. “There’s one more thing.”
I raised an eyebrow.
Bianca stood and walked to a small safe in the corner. She pulled out a thick envelope and tossed it to me. “Twenty thousand. Starter money. But if you want more… you’ll have to earn it properly.”
Before I could ask what she meant, a loud knock came at the door.
“Miss Moretti! We’ve got a problem downstairs. Rossi men just showed up looking for someone.”
Bianca’s eyes met mine. “Looks like your past found you faster than expected.”
I stood up, adrenaline surging again. The pain was still there, but so was the fire.
“Time to see if our new partnership is worth anything,” I said, checking the pistol Rook had given me.
Bianca grabbed a small revolver from her purse, her expression turning lethal. “Try not to die before we seal this deal properly, Vale.”
We moved toward the door together as more shouting erupted from downstairs.
The Rossi hunters had arrived.