Dark Souls

9.peaches and vanilla

Russo pulls up the Bentley to the front of the fancy, historic estate that's located a few streets down my own. The mansion was crowded by now, multiple faces I recognize stepping up the u-shaped, brick stairs to the entrance of tonight's "grand party". If you weren't invited, it's probably because you're no one important enough to enter Arturo and Carlota's kingdom... or because you haven't killed anyone for them. God, how I fucking wish I was on that list. That way I could've stayed home fucking my hand, imagining all the ways I could make Katarina come with just my mouth.

The only reason I'm here is because this evening is extremely important to my friend. "Pick me up in about an hour," I order Russo, opening the door of the Bentley and stepping out, "I'll make up an excuse. I'm fucking exhausted." I lean down to meet his eyes as he's looking at me over his shoulder from the driver's seat.

"Sure thing. Have fun, boss," he mocks, knowing damn well how much I loathed socializing events or rich motherfuckers who thought the world spun around them.

"Vaffanculo." Go fuck yourself, I mutter at him after a chuckle, closing the car's door behind me.

When he pulls away, I check my cellphone. Two messages. One was from Victor, informing me that Ray had died on the way to that shithole where they found him. He'd taken care of everything and was already on his way back to the estate. Now, it was only a matter of time for Gian to appear, hopefully. The other message was a nude from Daviana, my ex-fiancée. We ended things 5 years ago when I moved my life here from New York. We still fucked now and then; I guess working with each other makes things harder and even though I could never feel anything for her other than a physical attraction, she sure knows how to show me a fucking good time.

I slide my cellphone into the inside of my all black, fitted, Dolce&Gabbana suit's jacket. I was in no mood of replying to neither of them. Taking a deep breath, I start walking up the stairs to where Carlota and Arturo are greeting their guests in the entrance. I plaster a charming grin on my face, mentally preparing myself for a night of too much interaction.

When Carlota's blue eyes meet mine, she flushes. Her exposed neck and face turns a crimson red, and her nipples harden against her evening gown. She used to be gorgeous, but now on her middle 50's, she's composed of too much botox and plastic. I instantly turn my attention to Arturo, camouflaging how uncomfortable it made me feel seeing his own wife so aroused because of me right in front of him. Goddamnit, I shouldn't have finger-fucked her all those years ago, but I was a horny teenager with raging hormones and even then I could tell how ignored Carlota was by her husband. I guess it was pity... and the hormones.

I half open my mouth to greet Arturo, but Carlota takes a step in front of him and hugs me, her hands surreptitiously roaming my biceps.

What the fuck.

"I'm so happy to see you, il mi amore," she whispers in my ear, hesitantly pulling away and cupping my face gently "It has been what? A year since I last saw you?" Her voice comes out almost desperate and I don't dare look at Arturo. I bet he didn't give a fuck though, he'd probably beg me to watch us fucking. Repulsive.

"How are you, Carlota?" My voice comes out casual and firm as I manage to escape from her grip and greet Arturo with a firm handshake, "Arturo, always a pleasure." LIE. His face is serious as his hand squeezes mine tighter than usual. Right, I'd forgotten that ever since Carlota turned her tits into a double C and got a BBL, Arturo is a jealous and possessive man.

I smirk to myself, All yours, Arturo, all yours.

"Yes," I shift my gaze to Carlota, "I've been extremely busy with all my businesses in the states," I half lie, answering her question.