I sat in my cramped apartment, surrounded by piles of boxes and clothes we didn’t have anywhere to store. My phone lit up the dim room as I scrolled through the news, the incessant buzz of city life outside my window. A headline caught my eye: “Mafia Turf War Brewing?” Curiosity piqued, I clicked on the article. Interspersed between reporting that read more like gossip were a series of photographs. Some were mugshots, others looked like business portraits. As I scanned down, a familiar face appeared in a group photograph. Marcus, from last night. His chiseled features seemed to jump out from the screen, his piercing green eyes boring into me.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.
I pressed play on the video embedded in the article, and a news anchor appeared on the screen. “Rumors abound that the city’s dark underbelly may be about to erupt into full-scale war. Sources tell us that there has been a series of violent altercations between rival mafia factions in the last few weeks. Police have yet to release an official statement, but city leaders and concerned residents have been pushing for answers.”
I zoned out, barely hearing the video, my heart sinking like an anchor tossed overboard, crashing through the depths of my chest. Was the man I’d danced with some kind of criminal? A mobster, maybe even a murderer?
“As the city braces for further violence, we have to wonder who will protect the honest, hardworking people of this city from the coming war on the streets?”
I stopped the video, feeling hollow inside. Biting my lip, I remembered the weird feeling I’d had about Marcus from the first moment he touched me, something smothered by the immediate heat between us. There was something powerful and somewhat menacing in the way he carried himself. But I’d thought the danger he posed was to my heart, not my life. I wondered if the hands that had touched me had ended a life before. It was too horrible to even consider. And yet, I still craved him, longing for the intoxicating thrill that came with being in his presence.
“Get a grip, Olivia,” I told myself, trying to logic my way past the feelings roiling inside me.
Just then, as if my inner turmoil was loud enough to summon her, Elle came out from the tiny kitchen where she’d been co-washing her hair in the sink because our shower only emitted cold water for some reason.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, plopping down next to me as water droplets flew out into the air.
I handed her my phone wordlessly. What could I possibly even say to explain?
“Huh?” Elle asked as she scrolled. “City crime wave, hardly news, girl.”
I sighed. “Keep looking. See if you recognize anyone in the photos.”
“Excuse me, what kind of circles do you think I tr- oh shit.” She held the phone screen close to her nose. “Is that the guy from last night? The one you almost fucked on the dancefloor? Who left you dickmatized without even giving you the D?”
“I did not almost… never mind. Not the point. Yes, that’s the guy. Marcus Moore, apparently.”
“Moore? Damn, I know that name. He owns Club Desire. Wow, when you decide to break bad for a night you sure know how to pick ’em, Ol.” Elle laughed and put my phone down so she could go back to gently squeezing the water out of her hair. “Your own pet middle-aged crime boss. Wow! Wow.”
I rolled my eyes. “Stop saying ‘wow,’ please. And he’s not middle-aged. I doubt he’s even forty yet.“
“Age isn’t the problem in your relationship, miss goody-two-shoes.” Elle giggled. “Well, it wouldn’t be, I mean. If you were going to ever see him again. But obviously you’re not.”
“Right,” I said softly.
Elle blinked at me and stared for a moment. “No. I can see you, you know. Olivia Angela Williams, you cannot date a criminal. You work at a law firm for gods’s sake.”
“I know, Elle,” I replied, not meeting her gaze. “It’s impossible. And insane. But I just ran out on him last night. I need to… I don’t even know. See him, tell him to leave me alone, something. I need closure or whatever. I know it was only one night, but I have never been so attracted to someone before.”
Elle groaned and leaned back against the couch, frowning. “Girl, you’re playing with fire. He could be really dangerous.”
“Yeah, maybe. But I just… I just can’t leave it like this. I’m going back tonight. Just one conversation to settle my curiosity. I won’t even be alone with him. What’s the worst that could happen?” I was being ridiculously naïve, and I knew it. But I couldn’t explain to Elle or anyone else how I felt. Why I absolutely had to see Marcus again one more time.
Elle didn’t try to stop me. She just said, “be careful, call me if you need me,” before standing up to go finish dealing with her hair.
I got washed up and dressed while carefully avoiding my own reflection in any mirrors. I couldn’t do this and look at myself. Clinging to the madness from last night that drew Marcus and me together on the dancefloor, I let it carry me back to him.
I pretended it was to end things. But something inside me craved the danger, longed for the excitement that came with entering Marcus’s club and his world again.
As I made my way through the city to Club Desire, I felt a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through my veins. The dark, pulsating energy of the club called to me like a siren song, and I couldn’t resist its pull. The moment I stepped inside, the pounding music consumed me, the flashing lights disorienting yet mesmerizing.
I scanned the crowd for any sign of Marcus. Would he even remember me? Did he care?
And then I saw him, standing at the bar, looking as powerful and alluring as I remembered. Possibly more so now. A jolt of electricity shot through me as I approached him, my body trembling with anticipation.
As Marcus turned to me, I felt a surge of desire that threatened to drown my senses. His piercing green eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach flip. My rational mind screamed at me, warning me he was bad news, but I couldn’t help myself. The speech I’d practiced on the way over about how we could never be together evaporated. Everything emptied from my thoughts. Except Marcus.
“Olivia,” he said, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine as he leaned down, filling my vision as he already had my mind.
“Marcus,” I whispered, my voice shaking with anticipation. His arms closed around me wordlessly, and I felt the strong muscles of his body against mine, a sense of heat and longing washing over me like a tidal wave.
“You came back. You need me,” he murmured into my ear, his breath hot on my skin.
“God, yes,” I gasped, my hands clutching at his broad shoulders. I knew I was playing with fire, but I couldn’t resist the passion that he stirred within me.
“Aren’t you scared, little girl?” He asked, his voice low and seductive as his fingers traced the curve of my waist.
“Terrified,” I admitted, biting my bottom lip in a futile attempt to quell the storm of emotions swirling within me.
“Good,” he replied, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “Fear makes everything more… intense.”
“Is that what you want? To scare me?” I challenged, trying to muster some semblance of strength in the face of my own vulnerability.
“Maybe,” he mused, his eyes darkening with a predatory glint. “Or maybe I just want to show you how alive you can feel when you step outside your comfort zone.”
“Is that what this is? A lesson in living dangerously?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest as I stared up at him, desperate for some kind of anchor amidst the chaos.
“Perhaps,” he conceded, his grip on me tightening. “All you have to do to find out is say ‘yes’.”
My throat was so dry it took three attempts to speak. “Yes.”
“Good girl,” he growled, claiming my mouth in a searing kiss that left me breathless and craving more. As our bodies pressed together, lost in a dance of desire and danger, I knew that there was no turning back. And I didn’t want to.
Marcus’s fingers dug into my hips, pulling me closer to him as our lips remained locked in a heated battle against hunger and lust. The music around us was deafening, but it was nothing compared to the thunderous pounding of my heart. I couldn’t believe what I was doing – allowing myself to be completely consumed by a man I barely knew, a man who was dangerous beyond my wildest nightmares.
“Fuck, Olivia,” Marcus growled against my lips, his breath hot and intoxicating. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Show me,” I whispered, biting my bottom lip as I looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Please, Marcus… I need you.”
His green gaze darkened with desire, and he wasted no time leading me through the crush of bodies on the dancefloor. He took me to the VIP section on a raised platform and lifted me up onto the back of a dark leather sofa. The cool leather against the exposed skin of my thighs, sending shivers down my spine. My hands scrambled and gripped Marcus’s broad shoulders, holding on for dear life as he positioned himself between my legs.
His lips brushing against mine once more before trailing downward, leaving a burning path of kisses along my neck and collarbone. I gasped, my back arching involuntarily as a surge of electricity shot through me. It felt as though my entire body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure and need.
“Marcus,” I moaned, unable to keep the desperation out of my voice. “Please… don’t tease me.”
“Oh, I’ll tease you, baby. Tease you until you beg me for mercy,” he whispered against my skin, his fingers inching up my thigh, making my breath catch in my throat. “Tell me you want me.”
“I want you,” I hissed, suddenly overcome with a boldness I never knew I possessed. “I need you.
“Like this?” he asked, his voice dark and dangerous as he pressed himself against me, the hard length of him straining against the fabric of his pants. I could feel my wetness pooling between my thighs, and I whimpered at the sensation, desperate for more.
“Please,” I begged again, unable to form any other words. My hands clawed at his back, my nails digging into the skin beneath his shirt. I didn’t care if I left marks – I just needed him like I needed air to breathe.
“Alright,” Marcus conceded, his voice rough with desire as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of my panties, teasing the entrance of my slick heat. “But remember, you asked for this.”
“God, yes,” I murmured, my eyes fluttering closed as I braced myself for what was to come. As Marcus’s fingers pushed inside me, igniting a storm within my very core, one thought echoed through my mind: there would be no turning back from this point, no escaping the all-consuming perfect darkness that was Marcus Moore.
Consumed by heat and madness, I felt like I was floating. Marcus did just as he promised, teased me from head to toe with his lips, tongue and those thick, strong fingers driving deep inside me, coaxing my climax. So intent was I on that intense pleasure that it took a second for the yelling around us to pierce the haze in my brain. Marcus froze, every muscle in his body tensing as the shouts turned into panicked screams.