Demise (The Clans Book 13)

by Elizabeth Knox

  She glances up at the elevator, “We have fifteen more floors to go before we’re at the roof. If you’re going to fuck me, do it now.”

  I scoff, unbuckling my pants and pull out my raging hard cock in record time. I flip her around, pull up her dress and get a good look at her bountiful ass. Sticking my middle finger of my left hand into her rear, I ram my cock inside her and hold on, loving the way both of her tight holes clamp onto me.

  “Wow, your pussy is begging for my cock, isn’t it? Have you missed me, baby?” I snicker as she grabs onto the bars on the wall.

  Fuck this, I don’t want her pussy. I want her ass. Taking my cock out, I line it at her other hole and force myself in while moving my finger out. She releases a loud moan, quivering underneath me. I ram, grunt, and fuck her ass like she’s my little slut, because she is.

  Bianca Petran is my prinţesă, my slut, and my love, even if she doesn’t realize it. Her mind, body, and soul react to me in a way they won’t with any other man.

  My balls tighten and I sense my load shooting through my shaft, so I dart my hand around her and strum her clit like a pick on a guitar, certain she’ll be releasing at the same time I do. Euphoria strikes through me and Bianca’s quivering grows until she’s moaning my name over and over again, her metal rings clinking against the bar of the elevator.

  I pull my cock out of her ass and shove it back in my pants, situating myself while she fixes herself up. The elevator doors open just in time and thankfully we’re both decent. We step out together, immediately heading toward the bathrooms to freshen up before we meet the Steele brothers. “Wait for me here when you’re done,” I tell her, catching a smile pull at her lips while she pushes the ladies room door open.

  I came here to meet with the Steele brothers, but I also came here to remind her who I am, and why we’re so fucking good together. I only hope she realizes it too.

  “Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice, Christian.” I say to the youngest of the Steeles, who was actually the only one who showed up here tonight.

  Bianca sits beside me while Christian is across the table from us.

  “I appreciated the call. All of my meetings have been stuffy and boring, helping Logan decide who we’ll invest money in here. So many new makeup lines, fashion stores. It’s . . . god it’s awful. Now I know why he sent me,” He says with a laugh, taking a sip at the red wine in front of him.

  “I can only imagine. Now, shall we cut to business?” Bianca asks, sounding so authoritative and dominant. It’s hot, causing my cock to twitch a bit.

  Christian smiles, “Yes, of course. I’ve heard about some troubles, or at least I’ve caught wind of some.”

  Bianca nods, “I’m sure you have. Allow me to fill in the blanks.”

  Christian waves a hand, urging her to go on.

  “One of our own was attacked in his home a few short weeks ago. His wife and children being subject to it. We have little information on the attackers, or who was behind it . . . but what we do know is it was personal. With the way it was done, this was meant to send a message. Considering we now do business with you, I’m hoping you have connections with those who might be able to alert us of any new players on the field. People who might not think highly of us, or maybe who seem a bit shady.”

  Christian remains quiet, thinking for a few moments. “There are a couple I’m not exactly fans of. This one guy placed an order with us one time, gave me the creeps the entire time. Seemed Eastern European, had tattoos, dark hair. He didn’t seem like our typical kind of clientele. Then again, I suppose we don’t have a typical type of customer in our business.”

  “True,” I chuckle, agreeing with the man.

  “This might be a little far-fetched, but when you go on these meetings . . . do you have any way of recording their faces?” Bianca asks, taking a sip of the white wine in front of her before she takes a bite of her fire grilled salmon.

  “Of course. We’re not novices, and if someone does fuck us over I love to return the favor. Rest assured, I’ll get some video clips of his face at different angles and send them to you.” Christian tells her.

  “Do you have a name for him?” She asks next, really digging in for the information.

  Christian laughs, “Jesus, you’re just like you’re mother. I like it. But I suppose all the women in your family are like this. Katya is just as nosey, maybe even more so.” Christian is talking about Mariana’s older half-sister, Katya. They shared the same mother. The entire situation is more fucked up than anything I’ve ever heard. Apparently their mother was trying to save herself so badly that back in Russia she sold her three children so she could give herself a new life. She ended up marrying Mariana’s father, and then had her. Karma showed up when Mariana was a teenager though, claiming her mother’s life. I don’t think Mariana or her father deserved what happened to them, though. “I can’t remember his name, but, I’ll get that to you. It was something weird. Kro, something. Now let’s all relax a bit and have more drinks and food. We are friends, so let’s act like it.”

  I grab my glass of tequila and raise it, toasting to friendship as Christian goes on a tirade. For a split second I glance over to Bianca, catching her look at me, certain this woman will end up in my bed tonight, quivering underneath me while I pump my cock into her.

  Chapter Ten

  Bianca

  “Was last night good?”

  Her question pulls me back in to reality. “Sorry, what?” I ask, practically stammering. It’s like she knows what I was doing in that elevator, and then back at my place . . . all night long. He left this morning asking where we stand, and I don’t know. Things are so fucking complicated, and add in my father trying to be the mafia matchmaker and shit is just . . . dandy as can be.

  “Your meeting last night, did it go well?” my mother asks, sipping her morning cup of coffee.

  “Oh, yes, it wasn’t bad. Christian has a guy who he thinks might be worth looking into. We’re just waiting on everything to be sent to Stefan. I’m sure he’ll update you when he has it.” I tell her.

  “Sounds promising. Hopefully he delivers.” She mutters, flipping through the magazine in front of her. I’m sure it’s some sort of high fashion one. She’s always ordering designer dresses these days, but I suppose you like to look that way when your worries aren’t as bad as maybe they should be. Hell, even the Italians have more worries than we do, but it’s because they’ve pissed off everyone and their freaking mother.

  “I’m sure he will.” I mutter finishing off my black tea with honey.

  “You’re supposed to be meeting Mircea today, aren’t you?”

  “Yep, what a joy that’ll be.” I grumble, rising from my seat. “I’d better get going, so.”

  “Okay, well . . . I’ll let your father know you’re off to see Mircea.”

  “Yeah, so you can report back to Cupid himself?”

  “Very funny,” she cackles with an amused grin.

  I head out to the car where my driver is waiting. He already knows to take me over to the hotel Mircea has been staying in since arriving in New York a couple weeks ago. I’ve been spending time with him to amuse my father, to make him think like he knows what he’s saying, to give the illusion I’m following the forsaken road he’s determined to put me on.

  But newsflash, I’m not.

  The door is opened in the back of the SUV and I get inside, tilt my head on the back of the seat and shut my eyes, breathing in and out slowly. I need my game face now more than ever, because I doubt Mircea Lazar thinks his childhood victim is going to come marching in, telling him what’s what.

  The ride takes about ten minutes before we’re there, and my men park the vehicle in the garage attached to the hotel. They escort me in today, courtesy of my father giving them orders that all Clan heirs need to be watched. He’s slowly growing more concerned about whoever’s behind Anton’s death coming after people. Most of the Clan members have been hiding children, which sounds awful, but
in reality it’s not. They’re only trying to protect our future, and I don’t blame them for it.

  The elevator takes longer than I thought it would and my armed guards don’t allow anyone else in the elevator with us, getting quite a few judgmental stares from patrons of the hotel. When we finally get to the floor, I go straight to Mircea’s room and bang my fist on the door.

  Charged footsteps can be heard from the other side and he yanks the door open, revealing a flustered, aggravated look. “Bianca?” He almost sounds surprised.

  “Yeah,” I hiss, looking to the two men beside me. “You both can stay here while I deal with this,”

  “I thought we were meeting for dinner?” He questions, leaning against the wall with a smug look on his face.

  “Yeah, not happening. This isn’t a date, Mircea. As a matter of fact, we haven’t been on any dates. So don’t get things twisted.” I turn around, and head for the couch.

  Out of nowhere I’m grabbed from the back of my neck and his lips come crashing down onto mine. My body collides onto the couch with his over top of mine and he holds a godlike grip on my throat, kissing me with passion, ferociousness, and need.

  I’m so lost in his movements that I don’t realize what I’m doing.

  My hands are at his pants, palming his cock, urging him on even more.

  Oh God.

  What am I doing?

  Fuck. I know what I’m doing, and I don’t know if I can stop.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mircea

  Nothing can stop me now. Absolutely nothing. Bianca ended up in my bed, and now everything I’ve planned will fall into place. I remember the way she shut her eyes as soft moans slipped from her lips. The way she dug her nails into the bed and my back, urging me to plunge my cock deeper inside her. Fuck, even if things go south I can hold this over her head. I’m not opposed to blackmail when it’s a last resort.

  Even though she was obviously enjoying it, Bianca seemed a bit off. When her eyes were open, it was like she wasn’t even with me. Was she imagining another man satisfying her? I’m sure if I put in the work she’ll fall in love with me. Many women have. Shit, I fucked one girl in Vegas a few times over the course of a month and when I stopped fucking her she cried how she had feelings for me and whatever. If she can fall so easily, can’t Bianca?

  But women are passionate in bed. They want to be touched, to feel your lips pressed against theirs in the most sensual of ways. Or at least this is my experience. I’ve had a few women who want nothing more than for me to fuck them like a rag doll, but I never once anticipated Bianca Petran would be one of those women. I still don’t think she’s like that. Which causes me to have some worry flooding through my mind.

  I have to get her to fall in love with me. I need to become king of the Clans, for it’s my right. It’s what my father and I have always worked toward. Every move we’ve ever made has been calculated and well thought out, from the smallest of details to the biggest charades.

  There’s no doubt in my mind that Bianca was blankly staring while we fucked. I’m certain she wasn’t imagining me . . . which only means I need to get smarter. I stand up and head to the bar in my hotel room, pick up a bottle of vodka, and pour myself a hefty glass.

  Running a hand over my jaw, I mull over the options available to me. I could wine and dine her, slowly making my way into her heart to gain more information . . . but the sad reality is that time isn’t on my side.

  I take a swig of the vodka and as the liquid floods over my tongue, shocking my senses alive, I realize I don’t have the time for it. I need someone to do this for me. Someone good, and more than that, someone who works quickly. There is a woman who splits her time between New York and Boston. She’s supposedly one of the best private investigators on the East Coast, and if she’s as talented as her reputation says she’ll have no problem gaining the information I require.

  Picking up my phone, I scroll through my contacts, stopping on Beretta Bosco’s name. I’ve never been the type of man who’s unprepared. I always have a plan B, and a plan C incase my second plan goes wrong. It just so happened that Beretta has been on my resource list for a while, even though I’ve never met the woman.

  I tap on her name and bring the phone to my ear, waiting as it rings. I expect to go straight to her voicemail, but an awkward Boston-New York accent greets me. “It’s Beretta. What do you need?”

  Well, this is an interesting greeting. She almost sounds aggravated that I’ve called. “Hi, Beretta. My name is Mircea Lazar and I’d like to hire you, or your company to do some work for me.”

  “Alright. Where you at?” She has a certain slang about the way she speaks, talking like a thug.

  “New York.” I reply quickly.

  “Perfect. I’m currently in town. What do you need, mister wise guy?”

  “Wise guy? I’m not Italian.”

  She laughs, “Yeah, and I’m not an idiot. Mister . . . listen, you say your name like you’re a God or somethin’. Trust me, you’re a wise guy. Now, what do ya need? I don’t have a lot of time to be wastin’. Ya know? Payin’ clients and all.”

  I nod even though she can’t see me. “Yes, of course. I need you to follow someone. Her name is Bianca Petran. I can give you her address and let you know the places where I believe she frequents.”

  “Alright, sounds good. Am I lookin’ for anythin’ in particular?”

  “I’d like to know if she’s dating anyone.”

  “Ah, one of those cases. I take it you’re scorned enough to want information quickly?”

  “Yes, and I’ll reward you handsomely for your quick service.”

  “Send me five grand today and I’ll start right now. But, I’ll be real with you. I know who the Petrans are . . . and followin’ them could get me into some deep shit, so feel free to tack on another two grand for my danger level. Kay?”

  “How am I supposed to pay you?” I question, preferring to give her cash.

  “I’ll text ya in a bit with the info. Now, I gotta go find your girl. Peace, fancypants.” Beretta disconnects the call and within a few moments I have a text message with some sort of PayPal invoice.

  Well, okay then.

  Five hours pass by.

  Five agonizing hours of communicating with my father, giving him updates, letting him know my plan, and then going over why my plan works better than his. He’s the most controlling person on the planet, though I do know he means well.

  My phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of me and I pick it up after seeing Beretta’s name. “Hello?”

  “Hey, I got your girl. And I don’t think you’re gonna like what I found.” Just as I suspected. There is someone in her life.

  “I can take it.” I tell Beretta, my words hopefully urging her to go on.

  A buzzing sensation makes me take my cell away from my ear and put Beretta on speaker. I head into my messages, figuring it was a text notification. “I sent you a photo of Bianca and some guy walking into a condo on the Upper East Side. They looked pretty cozy if you ask me.”

  I tap the photo on the screen and Bianca’s light magenta hair fills the screen. Beside her is Stefan Dalca, smirking like the cat who caught a fucking fish. His hand is on her lower back and while I assess the situation, more pictures come through. I scroll through, seeing his lips land on hers and her smile grow by each shot.

  This is confirmation.

  Stefan Dalca is a thorn in my side, and more than that, he’s going to ruin everything I’ve set my eyes on.

  No. No, he won’t. I’m not going to let him. Bianca Petran will be mine and it’s a fucking fact.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bianca

  “Don’t bullshit me, Bianca.” Stefan grumbles, dragging a hand over his face.

  Everything was fine while we were out and about, but now that we’re back at my apartment . . . things are starting to unravel. You see, Stefan might not act like a gentleman, but he really is one. He’d never make a scene with me on the str
eets. Though, when we’re behind closed doors things are much different.

  His stress and worry is evident across his face from the way he furrows his brows and clenches his jaw. Even if he tried to hide it, he wouldn’t be able to. He’s an amazing man at hiding anything he wants when it comes to business, but whenever it’s between us . . . he wears his emotions in his expressions.

  “I’m not bullshitting you, Stefan, I swear. I’m just . . . I’m trying to think about how to say this.” My chest fills with anxiety and my nerves are shot, still not sure why I let things go as far as they did the other night. The entire time I was with Mircea I wasn’t thinking about where my actions would lead me. At least, not until it was too late. When reality sunk in, my thoughts swarmed through me and I felt a fear unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.

  Stefan Dalca was there for me in some of my most trying moments of my life. He offered me support when those closest to me should’ve seen I needed help, and through his friendship we formed a physical attraction. Only, until very recently, I didn’t fully realize this isn’t just physical. The worst part of all is I came to this realization when another man was plummeting his dick inside me.

  “Everything you’re saying to me right now only confirms it. It’s plain as day. I can see it right in front of my fucking face,” Stefan rises and throws his hand in the air from pure outrage. He paces across the living room, clenching his fists while his nostrils flare. He comes to a stop of all of a sudden and looks at me with nothing but fury in his eyes, “I thought I was losing it, that I was just being paranoid and shit . . . but I’m not, am I?” He’s asking me a question and yet the way his voice shakes tells me he already knows the answer.