Ottavio’s POV

“I thought you wouldn’t show. I was about to dismiss the girls,” Bruno rasped, then turned to study me. “Christ, you look like hell.”

He wasn’t wrong. My hands were still caked with blood, the first life I’d claimed in two years that wasn't at Brown's order and one I’d taken for myself. The old man’s screams still played like a dark symphony in my head. Every cry, every desperate plea had only urged me to keep cutting, piece by piece, until what was left was nothing more than a gory shell of a man.

“Get me water,” I told the guard at the door. Then I looked at Bruno. “Help me with this.”

The guard returned with a basin, the water clean and cool against my skin.He waited till the guy had left before he rose without question, pulling the skull mask off my face with ease. No one except Bruno and Romano sees me without a mask in this club.

Better safe than sorry.

“How do you feel?” Bruno asked. There was something soft in his tone that made me grit my teeth.

“Relieved.”

That one word was enough. I scrubbed the blood from my hands, though the stains on my suit were stubborn. I’d burn it later. As the guard left, I met Bruno’s gaze.

“It’s like a knot loosened in my chest. One step closer to avenging her.”

Bruno’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He’d been there that night, and had seen everything the way they tore her apart. He understood.

“Strike his name from the list,” I muttered. “Four more to go.”

He gave a short nod and turned back to the bank of monitors.

Onscreen, five girls sat in the dressing room, nerves written in every fidget and twitch. They were barely dressed, but that was the point. Anyone who wanted to work at Raves & Jay had to prove they could handle the appetites of the elite. I’d drawn my own lines for their safety, but they still needed to be tested.

“One went to the restroom,” Bruno noted.

“Six?”

“Six,” he confirmed with a slight shrug.

“More than expected,” I muttered, reaching for his vodka and draining the glass.

“The club’s getting popular,” he said with a grin.

The place was nearly empty now, just a few drunks clinging to their tables. I should have been elsewhere. Brown expected me in hours but this ritual couldn’t wait.

“Are you sure we're going ahead?” Bruno asked.

“Yes.”

The door swung open. Romano strolled in, every inch of him carrying that reckless energy. “Miss me?” he said, voice flat.

“How’d it go?” I asked.

“Clean,” he replied. And looking at him, you’d believe it, no blood, no mess, shirt crisp like he’d been at dinner instead of dumping a body. “Did I miss the fun?”

“The girls are fucking hot,” Bruno threw in, grinning.

Romano leaned over the monitors, eyes narrowing. “Damn. Who the hell is that tigress?”

I followed his gaze.

On the feed, a redhead slammed her fist into a man’s jaw, then drove her knee viciously into his groin. Next to her, a girl stood trembling, her torn clothes giving away what had almost happened.

My nostrils flared. Rape was forbidden in my club.

The redhead’s back was to the camera, but when she leaned toward the girl, whispering something, I caught the faintest glimpse of ink peeking from beneath her lingerie on her chest. That tattoo. I would recognize it anywhere. Because it had intrigued me just this morning.

A slow smirk tugged at my mouth.

“She’s one of the applicants?” I asked.

Bruno’s tone was flat now. “Yeah. The sixth. The one who slipped out earlier.”

I didn’t look away from the screen. “Get her in here. I’ll screen her first.”

Romano’s grin was sharp. “What, Mr. Celibate suddenly curious about a woman’s cunt?”

I shot him a cold look. “The girls in this club are off-limits. I don’t break my rules.”

I stood, gripping the mask again. “Dismiss three. You and Romano take one each. I’ll handle the redhead. This might take time.”

Bruno lit up like a kid at Christmas. Romano, though, just studied me, eyes searching for something beneath the surface.

“Remember,” I warned, pausing at the door, “they’re off-limits.”

Mask in hand, I walked out, leaving the vodka and bloodstained basin behind.

****

I stepped into the room, which contained only a pole, a desk and a chair in it. Sitting on the seat was the redhead I had seen on the CCTV footage. Her real blue pools hidden beneath a brown contact lens and her brunette hair hidden behind the red wig. But I would recognize the defiance anyway.

Her jaw was sharp in the air, not showing any signs of weakness even as I stepped into her line of sight. “Questionable first impression huh?” I muttered as I got closer.

Mimicking an American accent, coupled up with the mask I knew my cover would not blow up. “Fighting before employment,” I added. Looking down at her, still sitting on the chair, her gaze dragged lazily on my suit and for the first time since I got into the room her eyes betrayed an emotion. Fear.

I wouldn't blame her, there was still blood splattered on my suit.

But beneath that fear, something else stirred in her gaze…curiosity. I could almost feel the way her stare lingered too long on my chest, tracing the curve of my shoulders as though she hated herself for noticing.

“It wasn't a fight, I beat him up.” She paused, her fist clenched like she was trying to control herself. The woman was angry about something and it seemed almost laughable to watch. Almost. “Because he didn't respect boundaries just like the man who assembled us here to keep us waiting like slaves yearning for a master.”

I smirked beneath the mask, glad the mask concealed my reaction to her temper tantrum. She's angry because she was kept waiting. Amusing. “I assume I'm the man you are talking about?”

She shrugged and mumbled “if the shoe fit,”

“Did you say something?” I asked, daring her to repeat her sentence.

“I said the guard told me to wait here for the boss, so here I am.”

I crouched down to her level, the leather of my gloves creaking as I rested my elbows on my knees. For the briefest second, her forehead furrowed like a spark of recognition had flickered in her mind. Then it vanished, replaced with practiced defiance.

Her scent hit me then, subtle but sharp, and I hated that my body reacted before my mind allowed it. Too close…close enough that if I leaned forward an inch more, I’d know if her lips tasted as sharp as her tongue.

My hand shot out, firm under her chin, forcing her to look up. Her skin was softer than I expected, but her gaze was anything but.

“You wait,” I growled, my voice dropping into that dark register I knew carried weight, “for as long as I say you wait. And if you can’t adjust, then get the fuck outta my club.”

Her breath caught, her pupils widening for a fraction of a heartbeat before she masked it. But I saw it…that flash of fear. I decided then that I preferred her scared.

Fear was easier to control. Yet beneath it, I couldn’t ignore the way her lips parted, soft and vulnerable for just that fleeting moment, making me wonder how they’d feel under mine.

I released her chin with a sharp flick of my fingers, like discarding something fragile I had no use for. “Now, get the fuck off my chair. If you’re ready to be screened, walk up to the desk. If not…” I jerked my head toward the door. “Use it.”

For a moment, she stayed still, her pride warring with her survival instinct. Then, slow and deliberate, she rose. The movement drew my eyes down the line of her body before I could stop myself. The way her hips shifted beneath those tight clothes made it hard to look away.

I arched my brow. “Now,” I snapped, letting the word cut like a blade.

Her shoulders tensed. She moved towards the desk.

Good.

“Now lay down and open your legs.” I commanded and she gasped.

“Why?” The defiance was back in full force. “Is consent prohibited in this clu…”

I didn't let her finish as I grabbed her throat, hard enough for her to know I was a threat but not to hurt. Her pulse throbbed against my palm, wild and alive, and for a moment I imagined it wasn’t rage or fear that made her tremble but want.

“I have no intention fucking you.” I scoffed, our face just a gap apart. “If I do, trust me one touch from me and you will be begging for more.”

Her breath ghosted over my lips as I spoke, and for one reckless heartbeat, I wanted to close that gap, wanted to prove my words true right here. Her eye mask did little to cover the freckles on her cheek. She's beautiful.

But then I remembered, she's just a social climber and a liar.

I released her throat and pushed her off me.

“But you just touched me, why am I not begging,” she retorted, taking a few steps away from me.

I clenched my fist, fighting the sudden urge to drag her back into my space. “I see you have a smart mouth.”

And fuck, all I could think about was finding out what else that mouth could do

“Woman, this is the screening process, if you can't handle this, then leave once again.” I said, my tone laced with calmness.

She stood like she was battling within herself. And for a moment I thought she was gonna go until she said. “I'll do it.”

“Good girl. Now lay down and spread your legs.”

The plan was to test the girls and see if they could handle any sexual advances towards them. Virgins are not allowed to work in this club. A virgin would not want to open their legs willingly to a stranger. Any reluctance would have had them screened out.

Aliyah has put up a reluctance and by my rules she's supposed to have been screened out but I couldn't let her go. Her words from earlier echoed in my head.

“I'd rather fuck my finger for a whole day than experience your asset,”

An idea creeped into my head. This is about to be fun.