Page 2 of Lust and Honor

She doesn’t answer. But I can say she said it without thinking. A lifetime of being treated like shit trained her to think everything’s her fault.

I lean over her, trying to keep my voice soft. “Were they high on something?”

She breaks into tears at the memory of what they did to her, and answers my question with her busted lips. “No… they didn’t even drink. I agreed to service them both at the same time, but I didn’t think they’d do this to me.”

I straighten up and look at Elen. “Take her to the hospital and stay with her until she’s discharged. I already talked to Dr. Donati.”

“My kids are home alone,” Penelope whimpers.

I think for a second. “Are you close to any of the girls here? Someone you trust?”

“Yeah. Olivia.”

I turn to Elen again. “Send Olivia to watch her kids. Until Penelope’s back on her feet and ready to work again, I’ll pay both of them like it’s peak season.”

As I walk out of the room, I let go of the raging bull inside me, the one that’s been stomping the ground, ready to charge. Its horns are pointed right at those two bastards who fucked up my whore so bad she needs surgery to fix her ass. Every woman working here is under the full protection of the Bruni family. And this is the first promise I make to them, as Don Carlo’s representative and the one running this damn place. Just because they sell their bodies to make a living doesn’t mean some sadistic bastard gets to walk in and do this to them.

I slam the office door open so hard it crashes against the wall. The two sick fucks are sitting side by side, their hands tied to the chair arms, while four of my biggest bodyguards stand over them. I take a look at their pathetic faces. The marks from the scuffle with my men are all over them—messy hair, split lips, and torn collars. Other than that, they didn’t take much damage.

They’re both young, probably twenty-two or twenty-three. The watches on their wrists scream money, and even without those, the arrogance in their eyes gives away their privileged background.

One of them flips out when he sees me. “You run this shithole?”

Yep. Definitely a spoiled brat. The other one’s pissed too, but composes himself and tries to save his ass with a polite, cliché threat. “Do you even know who we are? Do you have any idea what the consequences of this could be?”

Well, this is getting interesting. These assholes must be connected to some politician. I lean back against the big leather desk as one of my men hands me two IDs. A grin spreads across my face when I see the names—Roberto Rosa and Mario Albergini. I toss the IDs onto the desk, cross my arms over my chest, and turn to Roberto, the quieter one.

“What about you? Do you know who I am? Do you know who owns this place?”

Mario fires off again. “I don’t give a fuck who you are, you cocksucking bastard. You don’t know my father. Once I’m out of here, he’ll burn your whole fucking whorehouse to the ground.”

My hands curl into fists.

Roberto, starting to realize the gravity of the situation, snaps at his friend through clenched teeth, “Shut your mouth.”

Then he turns to me, trying to sound reasonable. “Look, man, we just wanted to have a little fun, that’s all. We made it clear to the girl from the start what was going to happen. I admit things got a little out of hand, but whatever damage we caused, we’ll pay for it.”

His friend runs his mouth again. “What damage? That whore wasn’t even hot. This is her job, to come here and get wrecked.”

I give a nod to one of my men, Brunello. He punches the asshole right in the mouth. Before the fucker can even spit out the blood, he tapes his lips shut.

I walk around the desk and sink into my chair. From the drawer, I take out a cigarette, light it, take a drag, and lean back.

Roberto swallows hard. “Who owns this place?”

“Don Carlo Bruni,” I answer. The checkmate look on his face almost makes me smile.

His eyes widen for a second. Then he drops his head in defeat, squeezes his eyes shut, and mutters under his breath, “Shit. Shit.”

I take another drag from my cigarette, then speak to the motherfucker with his mouth taped shut. “I do know your father. He’s one of my regulars. In fact, the girl you two motherfuckers beat to a pulp is one of your powerful daddy’s favorites.”

He’s still glaring at me, his face red with rage. I go on to make it clearer. “Don Bruni was your father’s main sponsor on his way into parliament. The two of them go way back.”

Then I turn to Roberto. “And everything I said goes for your father too, Roberto.”

He lifts his head, trying to hold on to whatever pathetic pride he’s got left. But I can tell he’s two seconds away from pissing himself.

His voice shakes. So does the rest of him. “Listen... I had no idea this place belonged to Don Carlo. Mario and I just got back to Italy last night after years of studying in the U.S. We only wanted to blow off some steam.