Chapter Two: Revenge served in a bar

The stranger looked up from his drink. His eyes swept over my tear-streaken face, staring straight into my eyes like he could see through me

I balled my hands into fist to keep them from trembling . I was burning with fury I could barely contain.

The man didn't speak.

I leaned forward. "Sleep with me."

His expression didn't change. "I don't sleep with strangers." he said flatly

I pulled out my wallet, thick with euros from everything I'd sold, and slapped a stack on the table..

"I'll pay you."

He lifted an eyebrow and glanced at the money on the table and back to my face then threw his head back and laughed. A low chuckling rumble.

“Not enough? I can double it” I said, placing another stack of cash on the table.

"But I want it on camera" I continued, my voice steady.. "I want to send it to my fiancé."

My last words must have piqued his interest. He slowly leaned forward, something flickering in his eyes. Curiosity, Amusement, I couldn't tell which.

"Let me guess…” He drawled out in an Italian accent “You flew in to surprise your fiance on Valentine's day, but you got surprised instead"

I didn't answer.

"I want to put on a little show for him." I replied instead.

He studied me for a long moment. The silence stretching between us. My heart thundered in my chest and I was afraid he could hear it.

I was sure he was going to say no, then he smiled. Slow.

"Ventolina." He stretched his hand to take mine and I gave it. His fingers brushed inside of my palm slowly, sending sparks all over my skin but I think that's the alcohol’s doing.

He looked at me like I was the most interesting thing he'd seen all night. "What's your name?" he said in a low baritone voice that only increased the thundering of my heart.

“Doesn't matter” I swallowed , “ Neither does yours. I just want one night. I can make it worth your while.” I whipped out my sexiest smile.

Again, I think that's the alcohol's doing. I crossed the tables between us and sat on his lap with my back to him.

I began moving my hips in a circular motion, slowly, grinding him to the sultry rhythm of jazz tune playing in the background.

I could feel the heat rising between us.

His hands gripped my hips, stopping my movement “Ventolina…” He murmured into my ears, pulling me closer “You're playing with fire.”

The sound of his voice lit me up. I turned around and straddled him, my forehead resting against his for a breath.

"Then consume me." I whispered, claiming his lips without a second thought.

He let out a muffled moan and I felt him swell in his pants. I smiled and deepened the kiss, grinding him until I felt him hard beneath me.

His breathing turned ragged.

He sprang up carrying me effortlessly with my legs wrapped around him. “I thought you wanted it on camera.”.

I gasped for breath as he whisked me up the flight of stairs, his lips locked with mine, hungrily drawing me deeper into the kiss.

I kissed him harder, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. He kicked open a door. The room was dim, lit only by the red glow of neon light filtering through the curtains.

He set me down gently. His hands lingering on my waist for a moment. "Last chance," he said, stepping back. "If you walk out now, I won't stop you.”

I should have listened. I should have walked out of the room, instead, I took out my phone, turned on the camera and placed it on the nightstand

I stood two feet away from him holding his gaze as I loosened the belt of my trench coat. It slipped off my shoulders revealing the red thong and lace bra beneath.

I heard him suck in a sharp breath and in one stride, he closed the distance between us claiming my lips in a raw, hungry kiss. This time, he wasn't holding back.

Heat coursed through me as one hand found my breast and the other gripped my ass, squeezing hard. I gasped, my mind scrambling to catch up with my body.

My core was already soaked, my walls clenched with need. This wasn't supposed to feel this good. He was supposed to be a tool—a means to an end. But my hips betrayed me, pressing against his length, craving more.

My hands worked shamelessly to remove his belt, "Don't worry, I'll edit your face out of the video," I muffled breathlessly through the kiss.

He stopped abruptly and for a heart beat I thought he’d changed his mind.

He put his hands on my shoulders, turning me around slowly to face the camera. He wrapped his arms around me, caging me against his chest.

"Ventolina…" He drawled, his voice sultry and low. He swept the hair from my shoulder, his lips brushed against my bare skin trailing kisses slowly down the curve of my neck.

I moaned shamelessly, leaning into him.

"I want the bastard man that made you cry tonight to see my face as I make you scream in pleasure.”.He slipped his hand inside my pants and found my folds dripping wet.

"Cazzo!" He moaned, bending me over the edge of the mattress. I felt him at my entrance, the tip of him pressing against me, and my breath caught. My hands fisted the sheets, bracing myself.

Then he pushed inside.

“Fuuuuuk”

The room echoed with my guttural moan as he filled me completely.

—-----------

He took me apart six times. Not once on the bed.

I lay down on the floor beside him, drenched and completely spent but I couldn't sleep.

My body was still humming with pleasure, I was exhausted but my mind was racing. Stefan's face kept flashing behind my eyes. His words. The way he'd looked at me like I was the one who'd done something wrong. The way he'd reduce my sacrifice to nothing.

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and turned my head to the man beside me. The stranger. The one who'd made me forget everything for a few hours.

He was fast asleep. Peaceful. Untroubled

The red neon glow from the window cut across his sleeping face, painting his skin in shadows and light.

I propped myself up on one elbow and looked at him.

Really looked.

I could tell he was a lot older than me. A decade, maybe more. Grey salted his stubble, and fine lines fanned from the corners of his eyes. His face was rugged—sharp jaw, high cheekbones. He was handsome in a way that made my chest tighten.

Then my eyes drifted lower.

Ink. Lots of it. Dark, intricate symbols climbing up his neck and trailing down his chest, disappearing beneath the waistband of his black briefs. Beneath the ink were scars. A long jagged one across his ribs. A bullet wound near his shoulder. A thin knife scar along his side.

I've seen these kinds of wounds on patients before…. And they were no ordinary men.

A shiver ran down my spine.

Who the hell did I just sleep with?