At that, he curses and turns.
As the person who runs our nightclubs and bars in town, I’m in charge of the running list of people who aren’t allowed in any ofour establishments. Mal O’Hara is at the top and has been for years.
After he was caught in one of the private rooms of our strip club, The Marquee, with two of our performers—one of them beaten to death, and the other barely conscious while he cut off her air supply with his dick.
Luca’s face hardens, the warmth of the house outside this door evaporating out of him in an instant. He takes one step closer, the bourbon glass still in his hand, and his voice drops.
“Mal O’Hara,” he repeats, like the name tastes rotten. “That animal shouldn’t be anywhere near women. I can’t believe Ralphie would let someone like him bid.”
“He did,” I say. My jaw clenches. “She has no idea what almost happened.”
“So, you bid and won,” he continues. “Then what?”
“I paid; they gave me the keys.” I turn away from him to look out the window.
“You went up?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. My voice is flat because if it isn’t, it’ll be something else. “I went up. I walked into the suite, and she was standing there in some white thing, like a sacrifice. Trying to look brave while she was shaking. No phone. No way out. Security on the other side of the door.”
“Obviously, you had a plan.”
“Yeah. Put her in a car and send her home,” I say.
“But that’s not what you did,” he says.
Of course he knows. Of course he has contacts who would know exactly what happened in that hotel. If I came out of the room that night, Luca Conti would be the first one to know.
I turn back to look at him. “No, that’s not what I did.”
He shrugs one shoulder casually. “Of course not. You did pay seventy thousand dollars, after all.”
“Papá,” I say, and this time, I’m exasperated. “You know me better than that.”
“Apparently not.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“What happened is you paid to spend the night with a virgin. And you did.” He lifts his brows. “Does that sound about right?”
I exhale through my nose. “Both of those things happened, but they weren’t related.”
He gives me a look that says he doesn’t buy it, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“I paid,” I say. “And yes—I slept with her.” I keep my voice level when it wants to rise in defense. “Not because I went up there planning to take what I paid for. I went up there planning to do what I said: put her in a car and send her home. But I walked in, and things— changed.”
His eyes narrow. “You said she was standing there and shaking.”
“While she was waiting to see who walked in.”
“Then her boss walked in, and she begged you to fuck her?” he says, blunt as always.
Yes, actually.
But no way am I telling him that. “Not quite that way,” I say, flatly. “And before you ask, she wasn’t drunk or drugged. I didn’t force her. I read her the entire time.”
It’s his turn to exhale sharply.
“Regardless, Nico. She’s your employee, who was auctioning off her virginity, to pay for her ill father. She was completely vulnerable, and that made her completely off-limits.” He looks over my shoulder and shakes his head a little. “You know that. You shouldn’t have touched her.”
