Danger mounted with each passing second. Rosa quickly determined that there seemed to be four different factions in the room.

First—there was Cristiano, Marcello, and the mean-looking bruiser.

Second—Rodrigo and the goateed blonde.

Then—Manolo, Favio, and a twenty-something tatted Spaniard.

Finally—the three female strippers appeared to be standing on mostly neutral territory.

It felt crucial to keep these alliances in mind. If she were to attack one individual, then his allies would likely retaliate against her.

Rosa then shifted her attention back to Cristiano and Rodrigo. Anxiety trickled through her nerves. The hot, incensed emotion she had caught in Cristiano's devil-black eyes had since cooled down, giving way to a manner of absolute indifference.

Was this the lull before the storm?

Cristiano told Rodrigo point-blank, "She is her own bitch. Not mine to give. Too fucking expensive."

Cristiano cast Rosa a sideways glance. "I believe you already have another job lined up for tonight, no?"

They shared a conspiratorial look. Clearly, he was trying to worm his way out of this tricky situation.

"I do," Rosa murmured, choosing to play along. "My other client is expecting me after this gig."

It was as though she hadn't spoken. Rodrigo ignored her as anger contorted his scarred face.

He hissed, "Do not deny me what I want, Massera, and do not take me for a fool. You may have Vosa in your corner, but you two would be nothing without me!"

Upon hearing this, Rosa assessed that the two men's pissing contest had little to do with her. Rodrigo's request to fuck her tonight was purely a power play. All for show. To take something that he knew Cristiano didn't want to give up. To knock his opponent's stature down a few notches in front of their allies.

"Her client is not someone we can afford to offend," Cristiano warned softly.

Rodrigo's displeasure darkened even more. "Who the hell is he, then?"

With a submissive expression, Rosa sat silent and still while Cristiano lied to the scarred man, "An enemy of an enemy."

Rodrigo shot back, "Would that not make him our friend?"

"An enemy is only a friend," Cristiano confirmed through a narrow gaze, "until you take a bitch that he wants for himself. Then, you become a dead man."

Rosa could only assume that Cristiano was referring to himself rather than her imaginary client. Her temples began to ache. This dick measuring contest was getting out of hand.

Rodrigo snarled, "Is that a threat?"

Cristiano gave a noncommittal grunt and supplied in mocking tones, "You tell me... my friend."

From the corner of her eye, Rosa saw Rodrigo's blonde lackey reach inside his blazer, very likely, to draw his weapon again.

She noticed that Marcello's hand was also creeping towards his gun.

Fuck.

At this rate, bullets might fly within seconds. She had no desire to get shot this evening. Rosa decided to intervene. It was time to relax the tension in the room by stroking a few trigger-happy egos and cocks.

Sweetly, Rosa offered to Rodrigo, "I would be happy to send you another girl. A better, more expensive bitch than me. Or I can dance for you. On the house. Right now."

Before anyone could protest, Rosa rose from Cristiano's side and sauntered over to straddle Rodrigo's lap.

She leaned over and cooed in the scarred man's ear, "Let me treat you like the king you are..."

Furthermore, Rosa figured it might be easier to steal Rodrigo's gun from this position should shit hit the fan.

Rodrigo's body relaxed as her hips began to sway and rotate enticingly above his crotch.

A pleased smirk tilted his mouth. "A king, you say?"

Rosa gave him a sultry smile. "You deserve it. You are a king among men... mon beau."

Like a soothing balm pouring over a scorched wound, her shameless flattery seemed to ease Rodrigo's ire.

A moment later, the blonde henchman's hand relaxed, shifting away from his gun.

As the conflict with Rodrigo faded by a fraction, Marcello's hand fell away as well. But he appeared quite tense, still. His gaze kept darting towards Cristiano like a beta wolf eyeing his alpha's lead.

Rosa had given Rodrigo what he wanted, after all: A chance to one-up Cristiano in front of their associates. Little did the scarred fucker know, however, she wasn't directing the pet name at him at all. 'Mon beau' had been reserved for Cristiano since she first met the bastard, and Rosa didn't need to look to feel the devil-black eyes digging into her skull.

Rosa pretended not to notice him since her slip of the tongue had been intentional. In a small, petty way, she hoped Cristiano was eating his fucking heart out right then as he watched her every move and processed her every word.

She would deal with his wrath later.

For now, Rosa wanted him to watch her treat another man as though all men were interchangeable. Rosa continued to dance and grind on Rodrigo in time to the rhythm of the song.

Devil-black eyes were riveted on every snap of her hips.

He also appeared to be listening to every word she breathed into Rodrigo's ears.

Again, she ignored Cristiano. His ego might be bruised, but, if Rosa could help him seal the deal with Rodrigo, then the man had no reason to be upset with her. Besides, she owed him this favor for saving her life.

Thus, she let Rodrigo grope her tits and knead her ass. She flirted with the scarred man, complimented him, and sang his praises to the moon and back. All the while showing Cristiano that she, too, knew how to put business before pleasure. That—even unarmed—she possessed effective weapons at her disposal.

It didn't take long for Cristiano's voice to rumble towards them in a low, aggressive growl, "You have gotten to sample more than your fair share of the bitch, Rodrigo. Do we have a deal or not?"

In a leisurely sweep, Rodrigo's gaze floated towards Cristiano. His fingers crept daringly under Rosa's panty line.

The man chuckled in nasty tones. "The night is young, Massera. I am busy right now. We can talk business... later."

Rosa barely kept herself from flinching at the scarred man's bold, wandering hands.

Cristiano's jaw clenched at the sight. "If you refuse the sum I am offering, then there is nothing for us to discuss."

"No?"

Cristiano smiled coldly. "You are digging your own grave, my friend."

Rodrigo arched an eyebrow. "Maybe you should start taking your own advice."

"What do you mean?"

"You are not the only one who has access to some fucked up secrets: I heard Favreau's boy dropped dead a day ago."

Cristiano's brow lifted up. "Oh?"

Rosa's ears perked up as well. It was confirmed, then. Her thallium had done its job.

"De León is gone. The police claimed it was an overdose. Moulin is a corpse, too. Suicide."

Rosa kept her expression serene and placid as she eavesdropped on. As though she had nothing to do with the demise of these two men.

Cristiano blinked. "I see."

"I hear Hugo has been missing as well."

"Ah."

"I wonder—which one of us is really digging his own grave?"

Cristiano blinked again. "What are you suggesting?"

With his hands still fondling Rosa's ass cheeks, Rodrigo remarked to Cristiano, "You operate... efficiently. But you are too heavy handed. I know Vosa wanted Favreau and Moulin and De León out of the way. I know that Hugo was protecting De León. I know that you work for Vosa. Even a child can piece this puzzle together. It makes me worry about what you have in store for me once our alliance runs its course..."

Rosa's eyes widened with concern. It seemed Rodrigo had everything all figured out. She tried to shimmy her ass away from his pawing hands.

Cristiano drawled, "You intend to end our partnership before I can end it?"

Rodrigo reached inside his jacket and removed a pistol, aiming it directly at Cristiano. "Unfortunately... yes. I am afraid you will not be leaving this room alive tonight. You see, I have been thinking about an expansion as well. The business of guns and bombs seem to be quite profitable these days. I need you and Vosa out of my way."

Immediately, Rosa used her proximity to Rodrigo to disarm the man, yanking the weapon from his grip and leaping off of his lap to re-aim the barrel at his temple.

"So sorry, mon beau," she murmured, "but there has been a change of plans."

Rodrigo glanced at her in shock. "You bitch!"

The goateed blonde took out his Glock and aimed as though he was about to shoot Rosa.

Before he could pull the trigger, Cristiano pulled out his Beretta and shot Rodrigo's blonde minion twice.

Pop.

First—the man's right hand.

Pop.

Then—his left one.

The Glock dropped to the ground with a loud 'clang' as the goateed blonde shrieked in pain. Blood poured from his palms. In one swift motion, Lola scooped up the fallen weapon and pointed it at the bleeding goateed man with an unwavering show of competence.

Rosa eyed her with a sense of newfound appreciation.

Lola winked back at her.

In a split second, more guns were drawn, all targeted at Rodrigo and the goateed blonde. Seven against two. It occurred to Rosa, then, that the others were very likely Cristiano's men. Not just Marcello and the mean-looking bruiser.

Her eyes snapped towards the blonde women with suspicion. Unlike earlier, the remaining two dancers were surprisingly calm during this round of violence.

Could they be working for Cristiano as well?

Very possible.

Such talented, little actresses.

Rosa's mind began to spin. Tonight, Cristiano had obviously been anticipating Rodrigo to betray him, and the man had shown up with a whole damn incognito army to take down his dissenter.

Cristiano addressed Rodrigo with a stony expression, "I will ask you one last time, my friend, do we have a deal or not?"

"I will take your fucking €850,000," Rodrigo relented with a helpless, fearful expression.

"That is more like it," Cristiano praised. "Our partnership ends when I say it ends, capisce?"

Rodrigo responded with a curt, nervous nod. "Of course."

"Good. I knew you could be reasonable. Now, get the fuck out of here before your man bleeds to death."

Heavy-handed bastard, indeed.

Without another word, Rodrigo retrieved the goateed blonde man, and the two retreated from the room like defeated dogs with their tails tucked between their legs. Following their departure, the threat of violence waned and withered away.

Lowering the gun in her hand, Rosa's face turned towards Cristiano, studying him with a look of awe and a bit of unease. Their gazes locked for a fleeting moment. Devil-black on amber-gold. His eyes still burned with anger and lust. Her heart beat fast and hard under his penetrating stare. Flutters of excitement blended with apprehension.

She looked away first.

Quite suddenly, Rosa couldn't shake the feeling that Cristiano was about to discipline her, and, in a perverse, deviant way, she wondered if she might actually welcome his punishment?