BLACKMAIL

Asher Prescott

I held her head down as she worked her mouth on me, lips sliding, tongue moving like she knew every trick in the book. I couldn’t even remember her name, and honestly, I didn’t care. She was one of the strippers from my club, I love my women easy, disposable and forgettable. But damn, she was skilled.

My head fell back against the headboard, my grip tightening in her hair as I pumped harder into her mouth. She pressed her nails into my thigh, holding on, eager to please. When I spilled into her throat, she swallowed, wiping her lips with the back of her hand before standing.

Her hands went straight for my shirt, fumbling with the buttons like she was desperate to get more of me. I slapped her hands away, pushing her back toward the bed. I was just about to unbuckle my belt when a hard knock came at my door.

“Dante, I know you’re inside, i need to talk to you.”

My grandmother’s voice.

I froze instantly, my jaw tightening, with an annoyed exhale, I fixed my belt.

“She can wait,” the woman muttered, brushing her hair out of her face. “Let’s finish what we started.”

I didn’t bother answering her, I went to the drawer beside my bed, pulled out a handful of cash, and tossed it at her feet.

“Leave.”

She stared at me, stunned for a second, “now,” My voice sharp. 

Rolling her eyes, she scooped up her clothes. “Asshole,” she muttered under her breath before storming out, the door slamming behind her.

I ran a hand over my face, grabbed my shirt, and headed downstairs. My grandmother was waiting for me in the living room, her arms crossed, her expression already sharp with judgment.

“Good evening, Noona,” I walked straight past her, down to the wine cellar, and poured myself a glass of scotch. Settling into the armchair opposite her, I leaned back and sipped slowly. “I thought you’d be asleep when I got back.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Do you really expect me to sleep when I hear the noises coming from upstairs? You disgust me, Dante.”

I smirked, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. “You know, I wouldn’t have wasted that call girl if you’re just going to sit there staring at me all night.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line before she snapped, “Look at you, wasting your life away, sleeping with every woman you lay eyes on. Men your age are already raising families, building homes. And you? You’re spreading yourself thin with strippers, models and escorts. You’re turning into your father, and it terrifies me.”

The word father made my jaw twitch, I set the glass down on the table with a loud clink.

“I’m not him,” I said coldly. “Don’t compare me to that man, I’m living my life the way I choose, and if that means I don’t chain myself to one woman, so be it.”

Her voice rose. “So this is the life you want? A string of women, no real connection, no future? You’re engaged, Dante, engaged, and this is how you behave?”

I leaned back, smirking again. “Sarah doesn’t have a problem with it. And if she ever does, I’ll discard her. I’ll sleep with whoever I want, whenever I want. If she can’t deal with it, she knows where the door is.”

My grandmother scoffed, shaking her head. “So she tolerates your filth. Desperate little girl, she tolerates anything to be called Mrs. Prescott. You’ve always had the worst taste in women.”

My patience snapped, I leaned forward, “Did you drag me down here just to criticize my choices, or do you actually have something important to say?”

She straightened, her expression turning serious. “Yes, what I am about to tell you will anger you, but it’s already done. Years ago, my friend Agnes and I made a pact. Her granddaughter and you would be married one day.”

I frowned, watching her carefully.

“Remember those documents I had you sign a few weeks ago? The ones I refused to let you read in detail?” She paused, then delivered the blow. “They weren’t business contracts, Dante. They were your marriage certificate. You are officially married to Agnes’s granddaughter. Her name is Edith.”

For a moment, I just stared at her. Then a bitter laugh escaped my lips.

“What the hell kind of sick joke is this? You tricked me into marrying some stranger I’ve never even heard of? Behind my back? Without my consent?”

“She’s your wife now,” my grandmother said firmly. “And nothing you say will change that.”

I shot to my feet, pacing the room, fury boiling in my veins. “I’m engaged, Noona! fucking Engaged. And you’re here telling me I’m married to someone I don’t even know? What kind of madness is this?”

“The engagement hasn’t stopped you from sleeping around,” she snapped, rising as well. “It won’t stop this marriage either. You will meet Edith and you will get to know her. And when the time comes, you’ll build a life together. That is final.”

I turned on her, voice sharp. “You can return to Italy tomorrow for all I care, but don’t you dare drag me into your twisted ideas of marriage. I don’t need a wife, I don’t want a wife.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t raise her voice. Instead, she leaned in slightly, her tone calm but cutting. “You don’t have to want it. But I am still on the company’s board, Dante, you will do well to think carefully before defying me.”

Her words hit where she knew they would. She was threatening the one thing I had poured my life into for the last decade.

I clenched my jaw. “So this is blackmail, Over a woman I don’t even know?Who makes childish promises decades ago and then binds us to them in the future like we’re pawns in some game?”

She didn’t answer me, she just gave a small, cold smile and turned toward the staircase.

Her voice floated back as she walked away. “All I ask is that you reach out to Edith. She’s in Florida, speak to her and decide the rest later. The wedding can wait, but the bond is already sealed.”

I hurled my tumbler at the wall, glass shattering, amber liquid dripping down. 

“I told you, I don’t need a wife!” I shouted after her, my chest heaving with anger.

She didn’t turn back. She just kept walking, leaving me standing in the wreckage of my temper, realizing how in just a matter of minutes, my life had been twisted into something I couldn’t control.

And for the first time in years, I felt the walls close in.