by K. L. Savage
Sex sells. That’s just a fact.
The men are shirtless. Always.
I believe if women have to show off their assets, the men should as well. It’s only fair. And honestly, I’ve seen more traffic come into Lussuria in the past month from the changes I’ve implemented. The staff is happier, too. Everyone got raises and a better benefits package. I took a pay cut to take care of my employees, and I’m still making enough to never work again.
Happy work life, happy fucking life in general. My new motto.
Nora wins another hand.
And another.
Then another.
I’d chalk it up to beginner’s luck if it weren’t for the fact that she’s won every hand for the half hour. She’s smart. She makes sure she loses every now and then to keep security off her radar, but I’m smarter than that.
“You dare cheat at my hotel? Cattiva.” I call her naughty knowing she can’t hear me. I press my hands together in a steeple position and smile. Nora is counting cards, the little thief. That’s stealing in my book, but I’ll let her have her fun tonight since it’s her birthday.
She has a mountain full of chips and is starting to get quite the crowd gathering around her. Her friends are cheering her on and Katherine sneaks in to place Nora’s drink on the table. A classy drink for a classy lady.
“My Stellina.” I brush a finger over her face and a sense of contentment washes over me. It makes sense for her to be a star when they are out by the billions tonight.
Her eyes lift to the camera again and her brow raises, a defiant gesture that would earn anyone else a bullet between the eyes and their body dumped in the river.
A man next to her has my hackles raising, and since she isn’t paying attention to her surroundings, she can’t see the man slip something into her drink.
“Cazzo,” I curse. I slam my hands against the desk, shaking the computer monitors. “Don’t you dare fucking touch that drink, Stellina.” I snatch the walkie-talkie off the desk again and sneer, “Katherine, security, fucking anyone who can hear me, get to table eleven and get the drink from the woman in red. It’s been compromised!”
I roll back in the chair and a dozen different voices cut across the walkie-talkie. I clip it to my belt and run toward the door, swinging it open hard until it slams against the wall. I have to get to her before something bad happens. I have to protect her.
“Prendila in culo da un ciuccio imbizzarrito,” I hiss, my fingers itching to grab my gun.
I’m going to kill him.
No one fucks with my Stellina.
No one besides me.
It’s a secret talent that I’ve never told anyone—my ability to count cards.
I don’t use it too often, but it’s my birthday and I’m looking to win big. And I might be my way of giving Mateo the finger after awakening my body and leaving me on my own to process it. I knew a man like him was trouble.
“Oh my god, you’re on a roll, Nora,” Libby says excitedly, hovering over my shoulder as the next hand is dealt.
“Must be birthday luck,” Faye tries to explain my winning streak.
“Luck: success or failure brought on by chance rather than someone’s own actions. This isn’t luck, ladies, this is skill,” I say with confidence, then reach for my gorgeous drink the waitress gave me from Mateo. I know he is watching me from the eye in the sky. It’s like his intensity is everywhere, surrounding me, and engulfing me.
I sip the delicious orange liquid and sigh, loving how good it tastes. It really is refreshing. So much better than a thick, syrupy daiquiri. I take another big swallow just as the dealer busts.
Oh, so sad.
I win.
I take another gulp of my drink and set it aside as the dealer lays my card face down. I won’t win this one. I’ll lose the next two or three to make the casino feel like they are winning, but they aren’t. If I wanted, I’d clean them out. I don’t just read political science textbooks. I’ve been known to dabble in ‘how to’ books as well.
One of them might have been blackjack. After that, counting cards is just easy. It’s all numbers.
“Hit,” I say, knowing I’m going to bust because I have a fifteen.
“Bust,” the dealer announces, gathering the losing hand from in front of me, then taking my chips.
“Aw,” Libby frowns from beside me while Cora, Alice, and Faye curse.
“Fuck it. You’ll get it next time!” Faye shouts. “Cause my best friend is a boss!” She gets the small crowd hyped and everyone takes a gulp of their drink.
I toss my head back and laugh, feeling carefree and happy for the first time in a long time. I feel confident right now, like I’m in the zone I’m meant to be in. I’m not trying to talk to a guy, I’m not trying to make friends with others, I’m just using my mind to win these games.
This is my lane. And everyone else can get the hell out of it.
I thrust my shoulders back and glance at the camera. I know it’s pointed at me. I watched it move and angle down. It’s him. And I won’t—no, I refuse to let him think he has a hold on me. I thrust my shoulders back and take my drink in hand again while I watch the dealer work her magic.
I’m fascinated as I watch her. She has to reshuffle the deck since the card holder just ran out of cards. Since there are eight full decks, she breaks them in three parts. The dealer, Molly, begins to shuffle. The cards fan and whoosh as she arches them with her hands. When she does, she does the same to the other section, then the next. When Molly is done, she spreads them out on the table and mixes them up, gathers them, and puts them in the holder for the next round.
The drink must be getting to my head, because I’m already feeling a nice buzz. I’m about to finish it off when a commotion and someone shouting has me pausing the rim of the glass on my lower lip. The drink is knocked out of my hand by Katherine, my waitress, and she has a look of horror on her face rounding those big brown eyes.
The glass shatters on the table and the rest of the liquid soaks in the green felt, ruining the table.
“What is going on?” I ask, my heart quickening with adrenaline.
The crowd quicky disperses and Mateo is running toward me, but without giving me another glance, he tackles a man at the table next to me. Security is surrounding us in seconds, wearing all black, and their guns are drawn on the man’s head as Mateo lifts him to his feet. Mateo yanks the man’s arms behind his back and one of the guards throws cuffs on the strangers wrists.
“What is happening?” Cora asks, slurping her daiquiri.
“I don’t know, but your dad is hot, Natalia.” Faye fans herself.
“Ew, disgusting. He’s so old.” Natalia shivers in disgust.
“Take him to the security room, now,” Mateo orders. The guards act quick, dragging the man away.
Not before the stranger stares me down with his beady eyes. His greasy brown hair hangs in thick locks to his chin, but the creepy grin he gives me as he is forced away has an uneasiness settling in my core. My head swims and my vision blurs. I shake my head to clear the fog and his smirk falls, disappointment replacing his grin.
I try to stand, but my knees give out. I have to grip the back of the chair to keep myself upright.
“Nora?” Libby’s hand falls to my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
I try to take a step, but my feet aren’t moving. I can’t move.
Mateo wraps his arms around me before I fall, and my friends reach out to me too, to catch me before he can. It’s too late. The man has a firm grip on me.
“Papa, what is going on? What happened?” Natalia asks him as he swings me into his arms.
My head lulls to his shoulder and I’m having to force my eyes to stay open. “That man drugged her. I saw it on the camera.”
“Oh my god!” Libby cries, gripping my hand with hers. “Is she going to be okay? Please, tell me she’s going to be okay. I made her come out tonight and—”
“Don’t―” I slur. “I’m having fun. Wait!�
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“What, Stellina?” Mateo asks me as he hurries to the elevator.
“My chips. I was winning.”
“I’ll go get them.” Faye stops walking and spins around to hurry back to the table.
“I’ll go with her,” Alice says.
“All of you go, and then go to your rooms. I’ll send security to escort you, and room service. I’ll take Nora to my penthouse. I know how to handle this,” Mateo states, slapping the button on the elevator.
“Okay. Call us when she’s okay, please?” Libby has tears running down her cheeks as far as I can tell, her mascara running down in black streams. “I’m so sorry, Nora.”
“I’ll call. I promise,” Mateo says.
“Papa—”
“Call Zio. Have him take you to your rooms. No walking alone. Stay in groups. Understand?”
“Si, Papa. Si,” Natalia agrees, then grips Libby’s hand before the elevator door closes.
Mateo hits the penthouse button and I groan when the reflection of us bounces off the golden walls. “So many of us.” I close my eyes, tired of keeping them open. Feels good to let the exhaustion win. My limbs feel heavy, like there are weights on my hands and feet pulling me to the floor.
“Hey, stay with me, okay? I leave you alone to have fun and some asshole drugs you. I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
“You lef’ me wanting,” I slur again, barely able to form words. “All hot—”
“—Hot, huh?”
“—And bothered. Bothered too. You smell sexy.” I bury my nose in his neck and inhale loudly, then exhale a moan. “Like… Italian sex.”
He laughs and drags his hands through my hair.
“Don’t laugh at me.” I let my head fall back. “Doltish; stupid or m-moronic. I’m not doltish. I’m smart. Super smart. I’m a double major.” I dig a finger in his chest, then poke at his pecs when I feel how hard they are.
His body makes me stupid.
I’ll blame it on the drugs.
“You are far from stupid, Stellina. You’re brilliant. Bright like the northern star.”
The elevator dings, and he dashes through the doors, taking a left down the hall. The black floors are blurring past, and they play with my mind, sinking like pits of quicksand. It’s as if he is trudging through mud buried to his knees. He slaps his hand against something on the wall and another door opens.
“I don’t feel good,” I admit. A cold sweat drapes over me. My heart races, and it isn’t because I’m in his arms. Something is wrong. I can hear the pulsating in my ears, deafening me until all that’s in my head is a hammering against my skull.
“I know, Stellina. We are almost there. Stay awake, okay? I don’t know what he dosed you with.”
“You sure it was drugs?” My head falls back; I’m unable to keep it up. It’s too much work.
“Positive, and I’m so sorry I was not there.”
“You don’t know me. You don’t have to…” I close my eyes and stop speaking when it becomes too difficult to talk.
“No, keep talking, Stellina. Talk to me.” He slaps his palm against the wall again and the door opens.
The cool air hits my heated cheeks, which helps clear some of the fog, but I still don’t feel like talking. I shake my head, just wanting to lay down and go to sleep, but I don’t think I could, considering how fast my heart is racing.
“Hey, Nora? Keep those big blue eyes open, Stellina. Look at me.” He shakes me a little, but it does nothing to dislodge my lids open. “Cazzo,” he mumbles under his breath.
I hear another door open and then I’m lowered to a cold floor, which feels good against my skin. “Inebriated: drunk or intoxicated,” I manage to rattle off another definition.
I love words.
Nothing can be sexier or more powerful than a sentence that’s meant to inform, empower, reveal love, or break it.
Mateo leans me against something. It’s cold and hard, maybe the tub. I sway, barely able to keep my body up. I place an arm on the edge, then lean my head across my bicep. This feels nice.
“I need you to make yourself throw up, Nora,” Mateo states with a stern voice and a firm grip on my throat.
That has me opening my eyes. “I don’t do that.”
“You have to. We have to get as much as this stuff out of your system as possible, okay? Trust me.”
“I don’t know you,” I barely manage. My vision is growing weak.
He grips either side of my head and looks me dead in the eye, “I will never let anything happen to you that I can’t control. Trust me.” The desperate plea breaks through my hazed and drugged body and pierces my soul.
I nod weakly, finally giving in. My head bobbles as I look for the toilet. I see the fuzzy porcelain to my left and reach for it, but I must not even be close because Mateo tugs me forward and places my hands on either side of the seat.
“Please,” he begs. “Throw up.”
I take a deep breath, open my mouth, and try to force myself to gag. Usually, the smell of the toilet does the job and has me puking, but not this time. I can’t smell anything. “I just want to lie down,” I whimper, dropping my forehead against the toilet seat, the cold seeping into my skin.
It feels so good.
I never want to admit a toilet seat feels good again. Never. It’s embarrassing.
“Throw up!” he yells at me, his hand holding on tight to my shoulder.
“I can’t!” I cry, swaying even more as I lose control of my mind and body. “Mateo.” The way I say his name is pathetic and my voice breaks, but I need help. “I’m scared.”
He kneels next to me and grabs my hair in one hand, tilting my head back. “I know, Stellina. I have you. You never need to be scared when I’m by your side. Open your mouth, stick out your tongue.”
I do as he says without a fight, and he takes his free hand and shoves his fingers down my throat. I fight him, trying to pull away, but he struggles against me. “Stop it. Trust me. I’m helping you. Let it happen.” He controls me like a man does a flapping fish after he catches it.
His fingers shove down my throat, hitting my gag reflex on the first try and I gag, spitting all over his hand. “Good girl. Brava. Brava. Do it again, for me.” He kisses the back of my head and tears descend out of the corner of my eye as he presses his fingers against that spot again.
I shake my head and hit his arm. I can’t breathe.
“I know, Stellina. I know. I’m sorry. You have to.” The tips of his fingers are halfway down my throat at this point.
My stomach tightens, once, twice, and more spit drips over his hand.
This is horrifying.
“Come on, Stellina. You’re worrying the hell out of me.” He kisses my head again and he adds more pressure to the spot behind my tongue.
Bubbles make their way up my esophagus and my stomach lurches one more time before I’m falling over the toilet seat. Mateo rips his fingers from my mouth as a wave of prosecco and whatever the last drink I had crashes in the water.
“Oh, thank you. Thank you, Stellina. Good girl,” he praises me as I continue to throw up.
Worst experience of my life.
No one ever wants the guy they are lusting after to force them to vomit.
I hope when I wake up tomorrow, I remember nothing.
I stop puking, finally, and I’m able to take a deep breath.
Mateo doesn’t agree. He forces his fingers between my lips and to the soft flesh in the back of my throat. I can taste the salt on his skin, and that’s all it takes for me to throw up again. The bubbles of the prosecco burn my nostrils and cause my eyes to water more.
He pulls his fingers free, keeps my hair back, and the last of my drinks leaves me.
Mateo unrolls a few sheets of toilet paper, rips it off, and dabs my lips. He tosses it in the trashcan and reaches above my head to flush the toilet. “I’m sorry, Stellina. We needed to get as much of the drug out of your system as we could.”
Mateo stands
and washes his hands, drying them off on the hand towel hanging on the silver hook to the right of the sink. When he is done, he opens the linen closet and snags a white rag from the shelf.
I scoot back and lean my head against the edge of the tub. A cold, wet rag presses against my steaming forehead. “Feels so good,” I murmur, my eyelids heavy and my vision still a bit blurred. The gripping sickness in my stomach has passed, which I didn’t realize I had until he made me throw up. “Thank you. I’m so sorry. I don’t do things like this,” I explain, wanting him to understand I’m not this kind of woman.
“I know. It isn’t your fault that coglione drugged you. You were supposed to be puking over the toilet tomorrow, hungover. A rite of passage for a twenty-one-year-old.”
Both of us laugh, his a little livelier than mine.
“I don’t usually drink either. This isn’t who I am.”
“And who are you, Stellina?” Mateo gently presses the soft cloth against my cheek, then my neck, moving around to the back of my nape.
I shrug a shoulder and get tired of holding my eyes open. “I’m just… me. Always just been me. Nothing much to know.” My arm slips off the tub and Mateo wraps his hand around my arm to stop me from hitting the floor.
“Oh, I doubt that, Stellina. I bet you’re fascinating.” He lifts me to my feet, but my body is still weak from the drug in my system. I collapse, but his hands are under my arms, savings me for the third time. “I got you. It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry.” A rush of emotions hit me at once and all I want to do is cry. I hate feeling like a burden. It’s always been important to me to make it on my own. It’s been only me for a long time, and the one time I let my guard down, this happens. I’m smarter than this. I thought I was, anyway.
I stagger on my feet and Mateo brushes the tears off my cheeks. It’s like he has done it a hundred times. Maybe in previous lives he has. I blink, trying to clear the haze but it’s useless. There’s still two of him in front of me.
“Hey, no need for apologies. This was not your fault. Not for a moment.” He presses a kiss against my forehead, and I lean forward, adding my own weight to the gesture. His lips are so soft and warm, comforting like a blanket on a cold night.