LUCA

Everything stilled when she looked at me. My gaze traced the curves of her face, catching the slight tremble in her lips, an enticing vulnerability that called to the most primal parts of me.

"Oh." Her eyes darted between me and Catherine, piecing everything together.

For once, I was also at a loss for words. Of all the improbable turn of events.

Perhaps I had allowed carelessness to creep in, distracted by the promise of an entertaining evening. It was the only explanation of how this girl had slipped past my defences. Her presence here was an unanticipated variable—even more so as a new employee—shaking the walls of my calculated world.

Olivia. Her name was an indulgence in my tongue.

Most women were transparent, drawn by my wealth and power—but not her. Behind those blue eyes, which had captivated me in the car park, stirred wit and stubbornness I found irresistibly sexy. She had challenged me, unintimidated, without knowing who I was.

The memory of her banterous comebacks earlier made me smile, that fiery spirit at odds with her evident nerves. Never had someone pulled me in like this, especially someone seemingly innocent to my life.

I studied her—the nervous way she bit her lower lip, the blush creeping across her cheeks, her blonde hair neatly tied up in a ponytail, exposing her delicate features. She was a seductive contradiction: brave yet timid, alluring yet unaware of the effect she had.

With a curious question in her expression, Catherine glanced at us but got pulled away by another staff member before she could ask.

"Excuse me for a moment," she said, leaving Olivia and me alone.

"Looks like I might have a chance to show you around, after all." I inched closer, noticing her breath hitch. Good, she wasn't immune. "I'm sure you'll find L'Ombra has a lot to offer someone with an adventurous spirit."

Her blush deepened before she broke our eye contact. What brought her here?

Most employees had unconventional reasons. Paying off student loans at warp speed and leveraging the club's elite clientele for future career moves topped the list. Were hers necessity, curiosity, or something else?

"You don't strike me as someone who dreamt of waitressing in a private club."

"I'm full of surprises," she shot back, rolling her shoulders as she looked straight at me.

A grin tugged at my lips. "I don't doubt it for a second."

Her nearness stirred my blood in inexplicable ways. I wanted to discover what lay beneath that innocence and fire. "Let me show you L'Ombra," I said, offering her my arm.

"I appreciate it, but I don't want to waste your time."

"You're not. Trust me, Catherine would disapprove if I didn't give you a tour."

"But I'm..." Olivia hesitated, uncertainty furrowing her brow. "An employee. Wouldn't it look—Wouldn't she be unhappy if I went off with you?"

"She knows you are in good hands. Don't worry."

Something in her shifted—perhaps curiosity overtaking her initial doubts—and she took my arm. "Okay then."

Unless I was out to play, walking through the club was usually a calculated exercise, checking that members were satisfied and ensuring smooth operations. A mental tally of what needed attention.

But as we wove toward the main bar lounge, I was consumed by a different kind of awareness—the subtle warmth of Olivia's hand on my arm, the points where our bodies brushed, igniting a low thrum of desire that drowned out the familiar sounds.

"This is where you'll be working most of the time, serving drinks and food," I said as she took in the scene.

Members relaxed on leather sofas, sipping expensive drinks and chatting ahead of enjoying everything the club had to offer.

To the outside world, L'Ombra was a high-end playground; to members, it was something rarer—a sanctuary of freedom, an escape from reality.

For me, it was a kingdom I ruled with precision, keeping tight control over the chaos, and balancing opposing forces. Order from madness. Light from dark. Power and pleasure coexisted here while the London underworld elite discreetly brokered deals, the club serving as protected neutral ground.

"If anyone gives you trouble, let the bouncers know." The thought of anyone touching or looking at her the wrong way filled me with possessiveness. She was far too alluring for her own good.

"I appreciate the concern, but I can handle a few drunken flirts." She frowned slightly, and I had to bite back a grin—she had spirit, alright.

Yes, consent ruled this place, but it didn't mean there weren't the occasional arseholes who thought they were above everything. And, unfortunately for me, I had to play nice with those I'd rather put six feet under.

We passed the first play lounge, muffled moans and gasps audible through the curtains. Olivia faltered at the unmistakable sounds of orgasms.

"It's alright to look. This place is all about new experiences," I murmured, urging her along.

On a chaise lounge, a woman straddled her partner, riding him to her climax, tits bouncing free. Across the room, two men devoured each other, about to fuck against the wall. Another woman guided the eager hands of the couple she was with up her thighs to her crotchless lingerie, encouraging them to discover more.

Olivia's eyes swept over every detail, her tongue darting to moisten her lips, stoking a blaze within me. Her chest heaved for a moment. "I... Should we keep going?"

I chuckled. "Let's continue then."

But her gaze returned to the room, lingering on the couples. What was going through her mind? Did she want to explore these rooms as a participant and not only as an observer?

Heat flared across my skin at the idea as we moved on.

Inside the next lounge, a guy was on his knees, eating out his leather-wrapped Domme. At her command, he sprawled on his back like an obedient pet, and she mounted his face, her ecstatic cries damn near rattling the walls while she rode his face.

"Oh, wow," Olivia breathed with a wide-eyed expression. "I've never... I mean, I didn't know guys actually..."

"Don't tell me you've never been properly pleasured before?"

My bold question made her inhale sharply, and she lowered her head, staring at the floor.

Fuck. It was clear no one had ever shown her what it meant to be the centre of the fucking universe. Shown her ecstasy. She wore innocence like a second skin, oblivious to the depths of pleasure she deserved.

The thought stirred something primitive in me. It was as if I'd found a treasure that everyone else had overlooked. Writhing under me, her hands yanking my hair, her legs quivering as she squeezed them around my head—I would make her come undone, make her scream so loud she'd forget her own name, ruining her for any other man's touch.

Hell, she would come apart so beautifully.

Cazzo, get your shit together.

I shook off the fantasy, but the tension lingered in the air, each moan and gasp in the corridor amplifying what I had pictured.

"Do all new hires get this kind of orientation?"

"Not usually. But I thought you should see the club before you start," I rasped, trying to hide my pent-up desire. "Tell me, what intrigues you most so far?"

"It's all kind of new to me. The thought of just...letting go like that." There was a hesitation in her tone, yet she held her ground. Her lip caught under the pressure of her teeth, and the words tumbled almost defiantly. "Is it wrong it turns me on, the thought of surrendering to such unrestrained passion?"

Fuck. Me. Her unexpected honesty was a shot straight to my cock. Yet, I couldn't let myself get carried away. I was her boss now, for fuck's sake—I was not supposed to imagine her like this, even if I knew that ship had sailed.

"Not at all. Nothing wrong with wanting something new, something you've never had." I was unsure who I was convincing—her, myself...or both of us.

"I don't know. Isn't it all a bit too...intense?"

"Intensity's not a bad thing. It's about what you can handle and how much you're willing to explore."

My hand found the small of her back as we moved deeper into the club, the muffled sounds of raw fucking coming from behind closed doors intensifying. "Here, let me show you."

In the exhibitionist room, Isabel, one of our regulars, knelt on a rug. She wore nothing but a lace blindfold, wrists bound behind her and completely exposed as her partner circled her.

With a flick of Angelo's wrist, the flogger kissed Isabel's skin, eliciting a hiss from her. Another lash, and another, each one leaving its red imprint on her flesh.

"You see, they're exploring their desires, their fantasies," I whispered to Liv, watching her every reaction to the scene. Her breathing grew faster, nipples hardening against the thin fabric of her dress. "L'Ombra is where inhibitions disappear, and your deepest, darkest fantasies come to life."

Each strike had Isabel arching and moaning, her thighs slick and shining. When she begged for another and Angelo delivered, landing each hit with expert precision.

"Such a good girl," he said, hands smoothing her sore flesh.

Isabel revelled in his praise, writhing in ecstasy when he trailed an ice cube down her neck and between her large tits, all the way to her probably swollen pussy.

A throaty gasp escaped her when the ice met her clit. She spread her legs wider, giving us a full view. And when Angelo removed her blindfold, Isabel locked eyes with Olivia, holding her attention as Angelo crouched behind Isabel and slid a hand between her thighs to play with her cunt.

Those two loved an audience, but there was a challenge in the way they sought a reaction from us. From Olivia. Her pulse danced at the base of her throat, and she shifted closer to me, a soft moan betraying her response.

"Does watching excite you?"

She tore her gaze away, but not before I saw lust flicker in her eyes. "I don't know what you mean." Her denial was cute.

"I think you do." My fingers traced the curve of her chin, tilting her face until our eyes met. "Imagine that were you—skin flushed from each lash, crying out for more."

Her lips parted, and a gasp escaped her throat—whether a retort or a gasp of surrender, I wasn't sure yet.

"Tell me, if you were bound and begging, would you submit so sweetly?" My voice was a low growl, the thought of guiding her surrender making my blood pound.

"I..."

"Be honest, cara."

"Maybe." A defiant spark emerged in her expression. "With the right person."

The words crackled in the air, a loaded silence, until Catherine's arrival shattered the moment. "Ah, there you are. Been looking everywhere for our newest recruit."

Olivia's cheeks turned crimson. "Oh...erm...we were just—"

"Touring the club," I cut in, meeting Cat's knowing gaze. Nothing ever slipped past her, a trait which made her very good at her job as L'Ombra's manager. "She should know what she's getting into before her first shift."

"I can see that." Catherine chuckled, bemused. Her wry humour and no-nonsense approach were why we'd been friends since Dante and I hired her years ago.

She handed Liv a stack of papers. "All the exciting stuff—employee guidelines, policies, training material, scheduling details. Oh, and your shiny new badge. Be back here Saturday afternoon to start your training and shift."

Tucking everything into the staff bag Cat gave her, Olivia nodded. "Thank you. I'll make sure to go through them."

Her tentative smile did dangerous things to my restraint when she extended her arm. "Thanks for the tour. It was...enlightening."

The spark that shot through me as we touched was nearly my undoing. I had to clench my jaw to keep myself in check and not pull her closer. "My pleasure."

I watched them leave, the sway of her hips a hypnotic motion that stirred my hunger to claim what I shouldn't.

It took my phone buzzing like mad to snap me back to the real world. A text from Dante flashed on the screen: "Marrakech shipment fucked. We've got a mole."

Cavolo! The message was all it took for life to resume its pace, piling on new problems.

With one last glance towards where Olivia had disappeared, I straightened my jacket and walked to the private elevator, resuming control and composure. Returning to the man with an empire and a family to protect.

There was no room for distractions, no matter how tempting.

Back at the secured floor at the top of the mansion, my thoughts of our newest employee lingered. I prided myself on being rational, aloof. Yet, she had cracked something open, shattering that composure against all reason, and I didn't like it one bit.

I couldn't pinpoint why her presence unbalanced me like this. Everything in me wanted to taste her sweet vulnerability and claim that softness for myself...which was fucking absurd. I knew nothing about her.

Only a fleeting attraction. It will pass quickly. This was all it was, right? It had to be.

My brother's message stirred new doubts—what were the odds Oliva was here by chance?

In my world, there were rarely coincidences. Only loose ends to be tied up before they resulted in strangulations. Could she be involved in a larger game?

After a final tweak to my cuffs, I entered the main security office. Marco, our head of security, was glued to the wall of monitors. "Evening, boss. Quiet night so far."

"Good. Let's keep it that way," I said, scanning the screens. "Pull up an employee file for me, please. Olivia Taylor. She started tonight."

His fingers flew across the keyboards, and he filtered through the club's footage with a rapid flash of images. "Got her coming in around seven, meeting with Catherine and HR."

Moments later, her file appeared on one of the screens. She wasn't lying when she said it was her birthday—twenty-three today. Twelve years my junior, yet she commanded my attention.

Art student, café worker. Skimming all the information, there was nothing that would lead her here. Her background check had also come back clean, but it didn't squash the gnawing suspicion in my gut.

"Keep an eye on her. If something's off, I want to know."

"On it, boss."

"And, Marco—keep this between us." I paused. "If her name reaches Dante or anyone else, there will be consequences, got it?"

His face went a shade paler. "Understood."

"Good. Tell the guys I'm heading home."

Leaving L'Ombra's pulsing atmosphere behind, I settled into the leather seat of my car. My men fell in line, our convoy cutting through the night as we exited the club's grounds.

London's skyline emerged in the distance. The drive from Surrey to the Moretti mansion in Hampstead Heath allowed me to switch gears, mentally at least.

I parked in the garage and entered my wing through a side entrance—Dante was still in the club, and I was not in the right frame of mind to see my mother.

But, tonight, my sanctuary felt different. The panoramic view that often cleared my mind after a stressful day now only cast shadows on my thoughts, consumed by one woman. I ditched the suit for something more comfortable and poured a glass of Brunello, yet it didn't do the trick either. She was all I could think about.

Compelled by an itch I couldn't scratch, I replayed the security footage from the club. Big mistake. Even in the grainy images, she affected me, leaving me conflicted. Instinct yelled caution while something darker craved to delve deeper. A curiosity that refused to be quelled.

Merda. My focus was shattered—the exact thing I was trying to avoid. What was her game? Her end goal? I didn't have the answers yet, but I intended to find out.

Tomorrow, I promised myself, I'd start picking her apart, piece by piece. But for now, she would haunt my dreams, whether I liked it or not.