MAFIA KINGS: ROBERTO

DARK MAFIA ROMANCE SERIES #5

OLIVIA THORN

Copyright © 2024 by Olivia Thorn.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ALSO BY OLIVIA THORN

Mafia Kings: Dario

Mafia Kings: Adriano

Mafia Kings: Massimo

Mafia Kings: Lars

Mafia Kings: Roberto

Mafia Kings: Valentino (Pre-order now)

***

AS OLIVIA THORNE

Billionaire Romance

ALL THAT HE WANTS

The Complete Series

***

THE BILLIONAIRE’S KISS

The Complete Series

***

BILLIONARE BAD BOYS

The Billionaire Bad Boys Collection

***

Motorcycle Romance

MIDNIGHT DESIRE

The Complete Series

***

Rockstar Romance

(Careful - cheating, love triangle, Happily For Now ending)

ROCK ME HARD

The Complete Series

PART I

1

Roberto

Control.

That’s the one thing I desire above all else.

Control over myself…

My destiny…

And the safety of my family.

It makes sense I gravitated towards finance very early in life.

Money is control embodied in physical form.

Money lets you command property… companies… political parties… even people.

Well… most people, anyway.

Control is something I desire in the bedroom, as well.

I have always been obsessed with controlling a woman’s body…

With the touch of my fingers…

A whisper in her ear…

Going down on her…

Bringing her to the brink and making her wait, hovering at the edge of agony and ecstasy…

Until I tip her over the edge and send her crashing into bliss.

But my heart?

My emotions?

Those were always under my control.

No one else held even an ounce of influence over them.

Until I met a woman who conquered me, totally and completely…

Not only by giving me control over her…

But by sending me completely out of control.

2

After months of heartache and violence, things had taken a turn for the better.

Two attempts to destroy our family were followed by two weddings: my oldest brother Dario and his bride Alessandra, then Adriano and Bianca six weeks later.

It seemed as though we were finally on the path to happiness…

Until everything changed.

On the night of her wedding, Bianca met my cousin Aurelio…

And realized he was the mysterious stranger she had seen conspiring with our enemies right before an attempted hit on Lars, Adriano, and Massimo.

But Aurelio wasn’t the mastermind behind the plot; our Uncle Fausto was.

The news was devastating. Fausto had been my father’s consigliere for 25 years. He had lived under the same roof as us. I couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t in my life.

But not only was Fausto behind the attempts on our lives…

He was responsible for our father’s death.

It might have been an old Sicilian woman who administered the poison, but Fausto used her like a puppet.

Papa’s blood was on our uncle’s hands…

And now he was coming for us.

After discovering Aurelio and Fausto’s treachery, I immediately double-checked our family’s bank accounts. I wanted to make sure my uncle wasn’t still listed as co-signer on any of them. The last thing we needed was for him to strike at us through our finances.

We were already in dire straits. Since dividing our territory with Fausto eight months ago (before we knew of his betrayal), we had made an enormous investment that had depleted half our funds. We had also run up numerous expenses safeguarding the property. As a result, we had maybe six months of operating funds left.

Which meant we couldn’t afford to go to war –

But war seemed to be where things were heading.

It appeared that Fausto’s ultimate goal was to turn the other families of the Cosa Nostra against us. Through a series of devious machinations, he had framed us for the murders of our longtime business partners in Florence; now no one else in the Cosa Nostra would trust us. In fact, they would most likely seek to destroy us for our ‘betrayal.’ Once my brothers and I were dead, my uncle could swoop in and snap up what was left of our territory.

First and foremost, we needed allies. The morning after Adriano’s wedding, Dario sent my brother Massimo as ambassador to Signora Fioretti, also known as the Widow – the mafiosa who ran all of Venice.

I had breakfast with Lars, my brothers, and two sisters-in-law, and then Massimo boarded the family’s private jet and set off on his mission.

Shortly after that, all hell broke loose.

3

After Massimo’s departure, I retired to my bedroom and began my daily routine.

First I did my exercises: one hundred pushups…

Two hundred crunches…

And 20 minutes of calisthenics.

Our enforcer, Lars, had trained our family’s foot soldiers. From the very start, he had requested that my brothers and I join in – both for our own good, and to increase morale amongst our men.

Besides military tactics and marksmanship, Lars had placed a huge emphasis on physical conditioning. Although my duties as the family’s Chief Financial Officer had forced me to abandon the military drills, I still kept exercising on my own.

I wanted precise control over my body as well as my mind. Lars’s punishing routines gave me exactly that.

Sweat dripped off my body when I was finished. I immediately stripped naked and took an ice-cold shower.

As the freezing water rushed over my head and back, I forced myself to breathe deeply and slow my racing heart.

Control.

Always stay in control.

After three minutes, I shut off the icy water, toweled myself dry, and shaved at the bathroom sink. After I applied a dab of cologne, I got dressed.

Silk boxers…

Dress slacks…

Socks…

Gucci loafers…

Armani dress shirt…

Hermès tie…

Vest…

Golden cufflinks…

Rolex.

I decided not to wear a jacket. I rarely did during the summertime unless I had a business meeting.

Then I walked down the hall to my private office and got to work.

I fired up my computer and ran reports on the family’s holdings…

Revenue from our various business dealings…

And our expenses.

So many expenses…

I’d had to take off the previous day for Adriano’s wedding, so I decided to work through lunch and eat once I was done.

I was deeply engrossed in my work when I heard the gunshot.

4

There were two of them: a dull CRACK, followed by another a second later.

The noises were out of place that I looked up when I heard them.

I didn’t recognize them as gunshots at first…

Until I heard shouting downstairs and realized something was very wrong.

A foot soldier named Raimondo burst into my office. “Sir, you have to come with me!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone tried to kill the don! I have to get you to the safe room!”

My heart froze in my chest. “Is Dario alright?!”

“He’s fine, he’s downstairs with the others – sir, please!”

Raimondo escorted me to the safe room on the first floor. It was a huge space with stone walls, no windows, and a steel door.

Dario held Alessandra in his arms as she trembled, and Adriano did the same with Bianca.

Niccolo was pacing back and forth furiously.

“Thank God,” he said when he saw me.

Dario looked over Alessandra’s shoulder and gave me a subtle nod.

“What happened?!” I asked.

“Sniper,” my twin said, keeping his voice low. “Lars is hunting him down right now.”

“Where’s Valentino?”

Niccolo looked dour. “He wanted to search the property with the soldiers. He wouldn’t stop bitching about it, so I let him go.”

“Sounds like Valentino.” I glanced at Alessandra and Bianca, then whispered so they couldn’t hear me. “Do you think Fausto’s behind it?”

“Probably. Unfortunately, that’s not all.”

He told me how Massimo and the Widow had been attacked in Venice by Russian mercenaries. Massimo had killed them all; now he was on his way to retrieve the old woman’s granddaughter and take her to safety.

“He’s alright?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Then it turned out well,” I said optimistically.

Niccolo grimaced. “Just wait until you hear the rest.”

Before I’d entered the safe room, Niccolo had received a call from Pietro, the pilot for our private jet.

Someone – presumably more Russian mercenaries – had gone to the Venice airport and fired a rocket-propelled grenade into the hangar where our jet was housed. One wing and engine were damaged, grounding it indefinitely.

“Massimo’s going to have to get out of Venice some other way,” Niccolo said.

I was no good with military tactics, so I focused on what I knew best: numbers.

Repairing the plane would cost millions –

But there was a silver lining.

“We have insurance,” I said.

“At the moment, that’s the least of my worries,” Niccolo said wryly.

“But we have a terrorism rider, plus an allotment for rentals while our plane is repaired. I should be able to get them to provide a substitute, which could get Massimo home faster.”

“Hm… alright, call them and set it up. But I need to know exactly where the new plane’s coming from. Right now, we have no idea who we can trust.”

“All the information is back in my office – the insurance policy, my contact’s name – ”

“Then it’ll have to wait.”

“Every single pane of glass in the house is bulletproof,” I reminded him. “Remember? 1.7 million euros for the retrofit?”

“I remember, and I don’t care.” Niccolo glanced over his shoulder at Alessandra and Bianca before whispering, “They shot through the bulletproof glass.”

“How?!” I asked, already wondering how much of a refund I could get back.

“They fired twice.”

That explained the two gunshots I’d heard.

Not only that, it destroyed any chance of a refund. The small print in the contract clearly stated that the glass wasn’t guaranteed to withstand multiple rounds.

Still, I wanted to return to my office, so I continued to argue. “I’m not in any danger; Lars is out there chasing them down right now. And I’ll stay away from the window – ”

“No. Your safety is too important.”

“Valentino is running around playing action hero with your blessing. Are you really going to suggest I’m in more danger behind bulletproof glass?”

Niccolo’s expression turned sour. “Don’t you start bitching at me, too.”

“Then let me go do my job.”

He sighed. “Fine. But take two foot soldiers with you – and be careful.”

“You know I’m the most careful out of all of us.”

Niccolo gave me a half-smile. “True.”

I immediately left the safe room to go do what I could to save Massimo.

5

Fortunately, I got my insurance representative on the phone right away.

Unfortunately, he was an unhelpful son of a bitch.

“What do you mean it’s not covered?!” I snarled.

“The ‘Acts of War and Terrorism’ rider doesn’t cover sabotage, sir.”

“It wasn’t ‘sabotage’ – it was a rocket-propelled grenade! You know, the kind used in WARFARE?!”

“It’s not about the object that caused the damage, sir, it’s the context in which it was used. And unless it occurred in an active war zone – ”

“It was carried out by Russian mercenaries! Hired soldiers! As in, ‘people who fight in WARS’!”

“Unless it occurred in an active war zone, sir, it’s not covered.”

“Do terrorists have to be in an ‘active terrorism zone’ for it to be covered?” I asked sarcastically.

“Unless we get confirmation from an approved intelligence agency that a terrorist group was behind the attempt, it’s not covered under terrorism, either, sir.”

Fucking unbelievable –

“Hold on,” I growled as I typed in the password on my computer, “I’m going to bring up the policy and – ”

As soon as the computer’s lock screen disappeared, I saw the online bank account that had been open before I rushed off to the safe room.

The balance, which was 2.3 million euros just 10 minutes ago –

Was now a few thousand.

I stared at the screen in shock.

“Sir?” the representative asked. “Are you there?”

“…I’m going to have to call you back,” I muttered, then hung up the phone.

I frantically clicked my mouse to refresh the screen.

The balance was still 3017 euros.

This can’t be right – it CAN’T be!

I checked the transactions record and found the source of my nightmare:

Five minutes ago, there had been a wire transfer of 2.3 million euros to Arbor Retail LLC.

“WHO THE FUCK IS ARBOR RETAIL LLC?!” I shouted at the screen.

I was about to pick up my phone and yell at my bank –

When I got a sick feeling in my stomach.

No.

No, that’s impossible…

I opened my online account with another bank –

And nearly vomited.

The balance was almost zero…

And a wire transfer had just taken place: 4.6 million euros to Seaside Limited LLC.

I opened account after account –

And every single one of them had been drained, with wire transfers to companies I had never heard of.

The only accounts that hadn’t been touched were crypto accounts I’d opened in the last six months – but they only held about 5 million euros worth of Bitcoin total.

I sat there in stunned disbelief.

I didn’t know how he had done it, but I knew who was responsible:

The same man who had tried to kill Massimo and Dario had picked our pocket to the tune of 28 million euros.

Uncle Fausto.

6

“HOW IS THIS EVEN FUCKING POSSIBLE?!” Niccolo roared.

Niccolo, Dario, and I were in a windowless storage room in the interior of the house. Adriano and the women were still in the safe room as we awaited Lars’s return.

My twin was being his usual theatrical self.

Dario’s reaction was worse: he just stared at me in silent disbelief.

“I called one of the banks,” I said calmly, though I felt anything but. “They informed me that once the wire transfer went through, there was no getting the money bank.

“When I said I hadn’t authorized the transfer, they checked the records and said the manager who sent the transfer checked off a box saying I did authorize it. When I demanded to speak to the manager, they found out he had left the branch a few minutes after the transaction.

“My theory is that Fausto bribed, threatened, or blackmailed people at every single bank to do the wire transfers.”

“How is that even possible?” Dario asked. “Don’t they need your permission?”

“Embezzlement happens all the time without anyone’s permission.”

“Why would they do it so blatantly?!” Niccolo shouted. “They’ll go to jail for it – if WE don’t get our hands on them FIRST!”

“I doubt that mattered to them if Fausto’s men were pointing guns at their children’s heads.”

Niccolo grumbled but didn’t say anything.

“We should get the cops on our payrolls involved,” Dario said. “We can get the money back that way.”

“Probably not,” I said grimly. “All the banks are international conglomerates, and the police on our payrolls have no jurisdiction outside Italy. Plus, I can guarantee that the money has already been routed through shell companies and transferred someplace like the Cayman Islands. It’s gone.”

“Then how do we get it back?”

“The banks would have to reimburse us – but they already suspect we’re Cosa Nostra. If they don’t now, they will once they do some digging.

“Once they ask their employees and find out they were threatened, the banks won’t cooperate. That would set a precedent that any gangster could do what Fausto just did and leave the bank on the hook for millions. In fact, it could even be turned into a racket: a gangster could steal from himself and then demand reimbursement.

“No – the banks will tell us it has to go through their insurance companies, and the insurance companies will balk for the same reasons I just told you. We’ll have to pursue legal action, which will take months in court.”

I left the obvious point unspoken:

We didn’t have months.

Not with the onslaught Fausto was unleashing.

“So threaten the heads of the banks!” Niccolo snarled. “Make them pay us back!”

“It doesn’t work like that. You’re talking about multiple levels of management that would need to sign off – CEOs, CFOs, and boards of directors. If we threaten them with violence, they could go to the police – police not on our payroll – and we could wind up in the same sort of situation that sent Dario to jail.”

Dario clenched his jaw in frustration. He’d taken the fall for our entire family when one of our subordinates had been busted in a bribery sting.

“How did Fausto know where all our accounts were?!” Niccolo demanded.

“He used to be a co-signer on them.”

Niccolo stared at me in horror. “You didn’t keep him on as – ”

“No, of course not!” I snapped. “I removed him from the accounts when we split our territory in two – but that’s how he knew which banks to target.”

“You should have switched to new banks!” Niccolo snarled.

“I only found out he was trying to destroy us last night!” I yelled.

“…alright… that’s true,” Niccolo grumbled. “But still – ”

Dario raised a hand. Niccolo immediately shut up.

“How much do we have left?” Dario asked me.

“Five million euros worth of Bitcoin, and maybe another hundred thousand euros spread across a dozen accounts.”

“How long will five million last us?”

“Barely a month,” I replied.

Niccolo and Dario both stared at me in shock.

“Payroll for our servants is 150,000 a month,” I explained, “plus another 800,000 for our foot soldiers. Bribes to cover the police in Florence and Tuscany are a million, and the judges and politicians are 1.5 million. Then you have the dock workers we employ, our lawyers – ”

“Alright, we get the fucking picture,” Niccolo snarled.

“What do you propose we do?” Dario asked me.

Niccolo interrupted. “We visit each of those fucking bankers and ‘persuade’ them to give us our money back!”

“I already told you why that won’t work,” I said.

“I don’t care!” Niccolo snapped.

“You sound like Adriano,” Dario rebuked him.

“Don’t insult me like that,” Niccolo replied with dark humor.

Dario turned to me. “What do you propose?”

“Well… I can think of one way to get 50 million euros.”

“That’s fantastic!” Niccolo said, suddenly overjoyed.

“How?” Dario asked me. “A loan?”

“No. I’d have to ask Hong Kong for our money back.”

I was referring to the massive investment we’d made two months ago when we’d joined an online gambling syndicate run out of Hong Kong.

The investment was supposed to be our ticket to legitimacy – a source of revenue that was 100% legal. If things worked out as projected, we could leave behind organized crime in two years and live on the proceeds from our investment.

Dario realized the implications immediately.

“That was supposed to be our way out,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

“We don’t have a choice!” Niccolo said. “We’re at war with Fausto. Fuck two years from now – without money, we won’t last two months!”

Dario sighed wearily. “Alright… call Hong Kong and get the funds back.”

“It’s not quite that simple.”

Dario and Niccolo both looked at me like What the fuck are you talking about?

“There’s a two-year period during which no funds can be withdrawn,” I explained.

Their confused expressions turned to stares of shock.

“What the fuck?!” Niccolo snarled.

“It’s standard in investments of this sort. If you let people withdraw any time they want, they get spooked when the market goes down, and everyone wants to get their money back.”

“Why didn’t you fucking mention this before?” Niccolo barked.

“I did! I told you there was a two-year window where the funds were committed and we wouldn’t see any returns – ”

“You made it sound like we wouldn’t see any PROFITS for two years – not that they’d lock it inside a vault and throw away the fucking key!”

“That’s what ‘committed’ means,” I snapped.

“Well MAYBE you should have explained it in everyday language, Mr. Fucking Finance Nerd – ”

“ENOUGH!” Dario shouted.

Both Niccolo and I fell silent.

Dario turned to me in exasperation. “If we can’t touch the funds for two years, why did you even bring it up in the first place?”

“I think I can convince them to make an exception,” I said.

“How?”

“We made the transfer in Bitcoin. Since we did that, Bitcoin has gone up over 50% in value. If I let them keep the 50% overage, maybe they’ll return the initial investment.”

“If you LET them keep the 50% overage,” Niccolo said with a nasty laugh. “That’s funny.”

“What if they say ‘no’?” Dario asked.

“Then I negotiate. I might not be able to bring back the full 50 million, but perhaps I can get 40.”

“Or 30… or 20…or, who knows, maybe even ten,” Niccolo sneered.

I glared at him. “There’s one other reason they might be amenable.”

“And what’s that?”

“Because they do business with the triads and the Yakuza. So they understand what happens when their customers go to war.”

The Syndicate’s operations were completely legal…

But not all of its investors were.

After all, we were Cosa Nostra…

And ‘triad’ was the term for various organized crime groups in China.

The Yakuza were the same, just in Japan.

A prosecutor would say that the Syndicate was a money laundering front. They would technically be right – although plenty of the Syndicate’s investors were 100% legitimate. Only a small number of investors did business outside the law.

Dario glowered at me. “Call them up and see what terms they’ll agree to.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. If I call, they’ll turn me down immediately. I want to go there in person.”

Dario stared at me. “You want to go to Hong Kong in person – while Fausto is trying to kill us, and we’re nearly out of money?”

“Yes.”

“Why?!”

“Because I went there in person to sign the documents and transfer the funds. When I did, I met several of the principal investors and the CEO, Mr. Lau.”

The name ‘Lau’ rhymed with the English word ‘how.’

“I think I can be far more persuasive in person,” I continued. “And if I’m standing there in front of them, they can’t simply hang up on me.”

Dario shook his head. “No – the danger’s too great – ”

“How far is Hong Kong from Macau?” Niccolo interrupted.

I glanced at him in surprise. Macau was a ‘special administrative region’ in China, a city that operated under the same ‘One Country, Two Systems’ policy as Hong Kong. Meaning that the city’s government answered to Beijing, but was far more Western – and capitalist – in how it operated.

Macau was like an Asian Las Vegas, filled with dozens of casinos. It even had its own currency, separate from mainland China. The same was true of Hong Kong.

“They’re practically right next to each other, just across the bay,” I said. “Why?”

Niccolo looked thoughtful. “Give me and Dario a minute alone, will you?”

Dario looked just as surprised as I felt.

“Whatever you’re going to say, why can’t you say it in front of me?” I asked.

“Just give us a minute, alright?” Niccolo snapped impatiently.

“Fine,” I said grumpily, and stepped out into the hallway.

Three minutes later, the door opened and Niccolo ushered me back inside.

“Alright,” Dario told me, “I’m giving you permission to go to Hong Kong to negotiate with the Syndicate in person. I would prefer you come back with 50 million, but I authorize you to accept as little as 20 million.”

“I’ll come back with at least 40,” I promised.

“We still need to deal with the bankers who fucked us over,” Niccolo said.

“Handle it when you get back,” Dario replied –

To Niccolo.

Not me.

I frowned. “Wait – what do you mean, when Niccolo gets back?”

“He’s going with you,” Dario said.

I stared at him in shock. “What?!”

“I’m going with you,” Niccolo reiterated.

I got angry. “Why?! Don’t you trust me?!”

“Of course we do,” Dario replied soothingly. “You’ll handle the finances all by yourself. Niccolo has other business to attend to.”

“What other business?!”

Dario gave me a steely-eyed look. “Roberto… your don has spoken.”

That was a warning to let me know I was overstepping my bounds.

“…yes, Don Rosolini,” I said quietly.

“Good. You’ll leave as soon as Niccolo makes the arrangements. Once you speak to the Syndicate in Hong Kong, inform me of their answer.”

“Of course.”

Dario patted my shoulder reassuringly, then stepped out into the hall. Two foot soldiers immediately escorted him back to the safe room.

I stared at Niccolo. “What the hell was that all about?!”

My twin brushed me off as he stepped out into the hallway. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But – ”

“You just concentrate on getting us enough money to survive a war,” he said as he pulled out his cell phone and walked away.

7

Ifound out later that Massimo had called while I was arguing with the insurance company about our plane.

More Russian mercenaries had attacked him while he was retrieving the Widow’s granddaughter. The two of them escaped, but there was no way Massimo could get the girl safely back to her grandmother. And since our jet was damaged, there was no way he could fly back home, either.

Niccolo told him to take the girl somewhere safe and lay low for a while.

Thankfully, Niccolo hadn’t known about our financial situation when they talked. Otherwise, he might have let something slip.

I was glad Massimo didn’t know; he had enough stress to deal with.

In fact, Dario ordered me not to tell anyone else about our financial crisis. For now, it would stay a secret shared amongst the three of us: the don, the consigliere, and the money man.

Which was fine by me. I didn’t want everyone to know that Fausto had stolen all our cash right out from under my nose.

Lars was not in favor of our plan to fly to Hong Kong. He wanted to keep the family under guard for our own safety – and since he didn’t know about our money issues, it seemed to him like an idiotic risk.

However, Lars also revealed that the attempted assassin had most likely been a woman from his past.

Bit of a shocker, that.

Dario granted his permission for Lars to hunt her down – over Niccolo’s strenuous protests. Niccolo thought our enforcer should guard the don, not chase after some former-flame-turned-assassin.

So when Lars complained about us leaving for Hong Kong, Niccolo wasn’t having any of it.

“If you can do whatever the hell you want, why not me and Roberto?” he asked with faux sweetness.

Lars tried appealing to Dario but was overruled. And that was that.

8

Two hours later, Niccolo and I left in a bulletproof Mercedes chauffeured by a foot soldier named Giorgio. A second soldier named Lorenzo rode in the front seat with him, and another car full of armed men followed us.

Niccolo was worried that Fausto had turned every single Cosa Nostra family against us and that no one could be trusted. So instead of flying out of Italy, we drove five hours along the coast until we reached France – specifically the city of Nice (pronounced like the English word niece).

Nice Côte d’Azur Airport was just 45 minutes from the Italian border, but it was outside the reach of the Cosa Nostra and therefore safe.

Probably.

There was just one problem:

Monaco.

Monaco is an independent country on the Mediterranean Sea, landlocked on all other sides by France. Less than one square mile in size, Monaco is tiny; only Vatican City in Rome is smaller. As such, it does not have its own airport. It uses Nice’s instead, just 30 minutes away.

Famous for the Monaco Grand Prix in Formula One racing, the country is also a playground for multi-millionaires and billionaires. Besides being small, Monaco is also exorbitantly wealthy.

Which meant that we were going to have to pay triple the normal rate for a last-minute private flight to Hong Kong:

375,000 euros.

I winced when Niccolo told me the price, but there was nothing to be done.

If we flew out of Italy and were assassinated before we reached Hong Kong, I couldn’t exactly get our investment back from the Syndicate.

And if I didn’t get the money back, the family would be bankrupt and helpless within weeks.

Enduring occasional price gouging was the cost of doing business.

Especially when ‘business’ included the possibility of being murdered.

“At least at these prices we won’t get blown up,” Niccolo joked. Then he added grimly, “…hopefully.”

The private jet was waiting for us at the airport when we arrived at 9 PM. Our cars drove right up on the tarmac next to the plane.

“Are we coming with you, boss?” Giorgio asked as he retrieved our luggage and my garment bag from the trunk.

Niccolo looked over at me. “What do you think?”

“No,” I replied. “We’ll be in and out in 48 hours. Fausto’s reach doesn’t extend to Hong Kong. Plus we’ll be under the protection of the Syndicate. We’ll be fine.”

Niccolo looked thoughtful. “Just playing Devil’s Advocate here… what if Fausto pays someone to come after us?”

“They can’t carry guns,” I said, gesturing to Giorgio and our other foot soldiers. “Hong Kong’s firearm laws are far stricter than Italy’s. If the authorities catch them with a pistol, it’ll mean a decade in prison. And if they can’t carry guns, then there’s no reason for them to accompany us.”

“We could smuggle in a couple of guns using the compartments in our luggage,” Niccolo suggested.

He was referring to the fact that our suitcases had been specially designed with concealed compartments big enough to conceal a pistol or other contraband. The compartments were lined with lead, so they would block any attempts to scan the contents using an x-ray machine at an airport.

There were several decoy metal plates inserted, too, as part of the luggage’s rigid structure. An inattentive screener would see black areas on the x-ray monitor and think they were part of the bag’s ‘skeleton.’

Of course, an attentive screener would immediately think something was wrong and rip the bag apart, so it wasn’t a perfect system – but it was better than nothing.

However, there was one obvious flaw in Niccolo’s suggestion.

“Getting the guns into the country isn’t the issue,” I said. “It’s walking around with them that’s the problem.”

“We’ll take the chance,” Giorgio said, “if it’ll keep you safe.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but that would be the easiest way for Fausto to fuck us over,” I replied. “All he has to do is make an anonymous call to the authorities and tell them you’re carrying. Then all of us would be arrested, and Niccolo and I would be charged as accomplices. Lars did three-and-a-half years in San Vittore for having an unregistered gun in Italy; I have no desire to repeat his experience in China.”

“I’m convinced,” Niccolo said and turned to Giorgio. “Get back home and guard Dario and the others.”

“Yes, sir,” Giorgio said. “If it’s all the same to you, though, we’ll wait until you’re safely in the air before we leave.”

“By all means,” Niccolo agreed.

The jet was magnificent: plush leather seats and lacquered wooden tables, plus a wide-screen television on one wall.

A stewardess hung up my garment bag, checked our passports, and took our suitcases to the back of the plane as we said goodbye to Giorgio. He offered once more to come with us, gun laws be damned; Niccolo thanked him, but told him to get back home as quickly as possible.

Niccolo and I sat down in seats that faced each other. As we were getting settled, the stewardess walked over and offered us glasses of champagne. I declined; Niccolo accepted.

“We also have filet mignon and lobster for dinner,” she said. “I’ll serve you an hour after takeoff.”

“Wonderful,” Niccolo replied with a smile.

When he saw my dour look, he said cheerfully in Italian, “It’s a flat fee no matter what. For 375,000 euros, I’m eating and drinking every goddamn thing on board.”

I couldn’t argue with that logic.

The pilot came out from the cockpit to greet us. He was a trim, middle-aged man in a blue uniform and spoke English with a pronounced French accent.

“Hong Kong ees six hours ahead in time. It ees approximately a 13-hour flight, so we should arrive around 4 PM local time.”

“Excellent,” Niccolo replied.

“I need to make a phone call before we leave,” I said.

“We depart in five minutes,” the Frenchman said. “Do you need more time than that?”

“No, that will be plenty. Thank you.”

As the pilot returned to the cockpit, I pulled out my phone.

“Who are you calling?” Niccolo asked.

“The Syndicate.”

“It’s the middle of the night in Hong Kong.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you calling them?”

“To let them know we’re coming.”

Niccolo’s eyes bugged out. “They don’t know?!”

“They will in the morning. Now be quiet for a minute, if that’s even possible.”

After a recording in English informed me that the Hong Kong Gaming Syndicate was closed for the evening and they would return my call in the morning, I said, “This is a message for Mr. Lau. This is Roberto Rosolini, your Italian investor. I’ll be in town tomorrow afternoon and would like to meet. My plane arrives at 4 PM, and I’m assuming it will take at least an hour to reach you, so I’ll be at your offices around 5 PM. Perhaps we can have dinner together. See you soon.”

Then I hung up.

Niccolo shook his head in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable – you know that?”

“I don’t want to give them too much advance warning.”

“What, that you’re coming to beg with your hat in hand?”

“More or less.”

Niccolo laughed ruefully. “I guess it doesn’t matter. If you get the money, then it will all be worth it. If you don’t, then we’re fucked, and this was just a very short, very expensive vacation.”

“But one we can claim as a deduction.”

“That’s why you’re the money man,” he joked. “Here we are on the eve of Armageddon, and you’re thinking about how you can write it off on our taxes.”

9

Dinner was served an hour after we were in the air. For a pre-prepared meal, it was quite good.

Though for 375,000 euros, it damn well should have been stupendous.

After the stewardess cleared away the dishes, she dimmed the lights and closed the shades on the windows to block out the sun in the morning.

Once the cabin was dark and the stewardess was gone, Niccolo leaned his seat back to go to sleep.

“Why are you going?” I asked.

“What, to Hong Kong?”

“No, to Timbuktu. YES, to Hong Kong.”

“Actually, I’m not going to Hong Kong. Not to stay, anyway.”

“You’re going to Macau instead.”

“Yup.”

“What’s in Macau?”

“Casinos, I’m told,” he replied flippantly.

“Let me put it another way: why are you going to Macau?”

“Better you don’t know.”

That made me angry. “Why?!”

“Because I’m playing a dangerous game, and it’s best if I keep you out of it.”

“Does Dario know?”

“Of course he does – I had to clear it with him.”

“I’m your twin brother.”

My unspoken accusation hung in the air:

You USED to tell me EVERYTHING.

Once upon a time, there had been no secrets between us…

Although that had been quite some time ago.

I was the only person with whom Niccolo could truly be himself. Around other people, he affected an over-the-top, theatrical persona – but he dropped it when he was with me because I knew him too well.

He sighed again, and I could hear the regret in his voice. “If I could tell you, I would… but right now, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

“I don’t suppose I have any other options, do I?”

“Not really, no.”

“Then I guess I have to trust you,” I snapped.

“What are you going to say to the Syndicate?” he asked, trying to get off the subject of Macau.

“If I could tell you, I would,” I said sarcastically, “but right now, I need you to trust me.”

Niccolo lifted his head to glare at me. “Don’t be a little bitch.”

“Then don’t ask for what you won’t give me.”

“And what’s that?”

“Information. The truth. Whatever you want to call it.”

“Fair enough.” Niccolo paused, then said, “You know… if you don’t get the money back, we’re dead men.”

That irritated me even more. “I’m well aware.”

“Do whatever you have to do to get it.”

“Leave that to me,” I snarled. “You just concentrate on not fucking everything up with whatever you’re doing in Macau.”

“I’ll try,” he said, then fell silent.

After a few minutes, the change in his breathing told me he was asleep.

It took me far longer to drop off – and even when I did, I was haunted by a voice in my dreams that kept saying, If you don’t get the money back, we’re dead men.

If you don’t get the money back, we’re dead men…

If you don’t get the money back, we’re dead men…

10

Iwoke after a fitful night’s sleep, stiff and uncomfortable.

Niccolo was reading something on his phone in the darkness. I could see the glow of the screen on his face.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he said. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough,” I said grumpily. “What time is it?”

“Eight-thirty in the morning our time, so 2:30 PM Hong Kong,” he said as he lifted the shade on the nearest window.

I squinted against the blinding light streaming in.

“Care for breakfast before we land?” Niccolo asked in a chipper voice.

“Why not.”

The stewardess brought us croissants, butter, cheese, fruit, mimosas, and espresso.

A fairly nice breakfast… although for 375,000 euros, it should have included caviar and black truffles.

“We are now approaching Hong Kong,” the French pilot’s voice said over the speakers.

I peered out the window at the city far below us.

Hong Kong was a dense forest of skyscrapers on the shores of a bay. Although smaller in area than New York, the sheer number of buildings looked like someone had duplicated Manhattan several times over and placed everything along the water’s edge. The airport, however, was located on a sparsely populated island miles from the city.

Our landing was smooth as silk. As we taxied down the runway towards a hangar, I turned on my phone and found I had a voicemail with a Hong Kong area code. With a slight nervousness in my stomach, I played the message.

“Mr. Rosolini,” said Mr. Lau. He had an older man’s voice with a cultured British accent. “How nice to receive your message. Unfortunately, I have pressing plans this evening, but I can meet with you at my office at 5 PM. My associate, Mr. Han, will be waiting for you when you land and will bring you to me. I will see you soon.”

The message was neither good nor bad, but I still felt uneasy.

Niccolo could tell from my expression that something was off.

“Was that your contact?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Everything alright?”

“I’ll let you know in a couple of hours.”

Once our plane stopped inside the hangar, the stewardess opened the main hatch, and a representative of the private jet company came inside. He stamped our passports and had us sign some forms for customs.

Once we were cleared to disembark, we said goodbye to the stewardess and pilot and walked down the steps with our luggage in hand.

A wall of hot, humid air slapped us in the face – but I forgot all about my physical discomfort when I saw who was waiting for us.

At the door of the hangar was a black limousine. Beside it stood a tall, fit, 20-something Asian man in an impeccably tailored black suit.

His shirt was burgundy-colored silk, and his collar was open at the neck with no tie.

His stylish haircut was immaculate, his black leather shoes were expensive, and he wore a gold wristwatch.

His face was impassive, and his eyes were deep, dark wells.

He looked like a sharply dressed gangster, not a businessman.

Even worse, the way he carried himself reminded me of a calmer, more dead-eyed version of Adriano…

Which worried me immensely.

It must have worried Niccolo, too, because he whispered in Italian, “That’s your contact?”

“I assume it’s a babysitter sent by my contact.”

“Wonderful,” my brother grunted.

“Mr. Han, I presume?” I called out as we approached.

“Correct,” the man said without smiling. Like Lau, he had a British accent, which made sense. Hong Kong was a British Colony up until 1999, and British English was taught in most schools. “You are Mr. Rosolini?”

“I am.”

Han frowned as he looked over at Niccolo. “I didn’t know you had a twin.”

“Surprise!” Niccolo said.

Though Niccolo and I look almost exactly alike, we’re fraternal twins, not identical – meaning that we came from two separate eggs inside our mother’s womb.

However similar our facial features were, our personal styles were miles apart. I preferred three-piece suits and ties; Niccolo hated them and opted for open-necked shirts and no jackets. I wore my hair slicked back, while Niccolo preferred his wild and free.

Our personalities were opposites, as well. I was laid-back and introverted; Niccolo was outgoing and chatty.

My brother immediately dialed up the charm to 11.

“I suppose we’re both Mr. Rosolini, but you can call me Niccolo,” he said, extending his hand.

The Asian man regarded him coldly without moving to shake hands. “You can call me Mr. Han.”

“Well,” Niccolo said as he withdrew his hand. “Mr. Han it is, then.”

Han turned to me. “Your brother will not be able to attend the meeting with Mr. Lau.”

“Didn’t want to,” Niccolo said cheerfully. “I’m going to Macau. If you could tell me the quickest way to get there, I would be much obliged.”

“You can take a helicopter from any of a dozen businesses here at the airport. Helicopter rides take only 15 minutes. Do you know where you’re going?”

“The El Dorado Macau.”

“They’re hosting a poker tournament right now.”

“Is that so?” Niccolo said brightly, like it was a fascinating factoid.

I knew my brother well. The glibness in his voice made me wonder if the poker tournament was somehow connected to his decision to come to Hong Kong – but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why.

“The El Dorado has a landing pad on top of the hotel,” Han said. “You can fly directly there.”

“Wonderful! If you’ll just point me in the right direction, I’ll be out of your hair.”

“We can drive you to a helicopter charter,” Han said as he pointed at the limo. It wasn’t a friendly offer so much as a statement of fact.

“No need. After the long flight, I feel like stretching my legs. Where do I go?”

“Follow the road to the main terminal,” Han said, pointing outside the hangar. “You’ll see plenty of advertisements in English.”

“Thank you.” My brother turned to me and smiled. “Give me a call after your meeting. Maybe we can meet up later.”

“Alright,” I said.

Niccolo turned and walked out of the hangar, pulling his wheeled suitcase behind him as he whistled a jaunty tune.

Han gestured towards the limo. “Shall we?”

“Let’s.”

11

Hong Kong’s airport was on a separate island from the city. Twisting roads from the terminal eventually merged onto a large highway. In the distance loomed green mountains with clouds obscuring their peaks.

The highway continued across a massive suspension bridge over the bay. We drove through verdant hills, passed through a miles-long tunnel, and crossed another suspension bridge. Only then did the massive skyline of Hong Kong appear in the distance.

I sat across from Han in the back of the limo and watched the scenery go by.

My companion was silent for most of the way, but he began to ask questions the closer we got to the city.

“What brings you to Hong Kong, Mr. Rosolini?”

“Business.”

“Your arrival was unexpected.”

“It was last-minute business,” I said, and tried to shut down his questions with some of my own. “I’m curious – how are you connected to Mr. Lau?”

“I am an employee of the Hong Kong Gaming Syndicate.”

That was the official name of the investment group that currently held my family’s 50 million euros.

“What’s your title?” I asked.

“Manager.”

“Of what?”

“Just ‘Manager.’”

The look in his eyes suggested it could possibly be ‘Manager of Disposing of Problems, Including Dead Bodies.’

I made a mental note to tread lightly around Mr. Han.

12

Once we reached the heart of the city, the limousine pulled into underground parking beneath a massive skyscraper. Han and I took an elevator to the lobby, which was decorated in cream colors and filled with bustling crowds of people. From there, Han guided me to a private elevator that carried us rapidly to the 70th floor.

We entered another lobby with a magnificent view of the harbor. Han didn’t even acknowledge the young female receptionist as she buzzed us through the glass doors. I smiled at her politely; she bowed her head without smiling back.

We made our way to a massive corner office with a closed door and a secretary out front – a severe-looking woman in her 50s.

Han raised an eyebrow at her as though asking for permission. She gestured her head towards the door, at which point Han knocked.

A muffled voice said something in Chinese – probably, Come in.

Han led me into a minimalistic office. There was a beautiful wooden desk, several black leather chairs, and nothing else other than a stunning view of the glass and steel canyons of Hong Kong’s skyscrapers.

Behind the desk sat an Asian man around 60. Despite his receding hairline, his hair was still black. He had a soft face and a grandfatherly smile, but his eyes were sharp and cunning. He wore a grey suit jacket with a Nehru collar that looked like it was from another era of Chinese history.

“Mr. Lau,” I said.

“Mr. Rosolini – welcome,” he replied with a British accent. “Please, sit.”

I took one of the seats across from him. Han sat in the other chair.

I glanced at Han, perplexed, as Lau continued with mundane pleasantries. “Did you have a nice flight?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Good, good. You know, I was surprised to get your message this morning. It was… unexpected.”

“Mr. Han used that exact same word,” I said with a forced smile.

“Perhaps because it describes the situation perfectly. What brings you to Hong Kong?”

“I would prefer to speak to you about that in private.”

Lau smiled. “Mr. Han is completely trustworthy. Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of him.”

“It’s a matter of some delicacy.”

“I assure you, Mr. Han is very discreet.”

“I must insist,” I said coolly.

Lau dropped his smile and all pretense of pleasantness. “And I must insist otherwise. If that is a problem for you, Mr. Rosolini, there is the door.”

I silently cursed myself. I was in the weaker position; starting out with a demand that could so easily be denied was stupid. Niccolo wouldn’t have made such a strategic blunder.

But then, that was why he was consigliere.

I was the money man. My strength was numbers – and I had to believe that numbers would carry the day.

But first I needed to establish why I needed Lau’s help.

“Alright,” I said. “You’re aware of what my family does for a living?”

Lau’s smile returned. “Yes, I am.”

“My uncle is in the same business. In fact, he used to be my father’s right-hand man. Over the last 24 hours, he tried to have two of my brothers killed.”

“Oh, my,” Mr. Lau said, sounding surprised and compassionate.

“We also discovered that eight months ago, my uncle paid someone to murder our father – his own brother.”

“Oh dear,” Lau said, looking pained. “That’s horrible.”

“In addition to his acts of violence, my uncle has also attacked us financially. By using threats, bribes, or blackmail against bank officials, he managed to steal 28 million euros from our accounts.”

“How terrible,” Mr. Lau said, then frowned slightly. “But I fail to see how it explains why you are here.”

“Considering the danger we find ourselves in, I came to ask you to temporarily return my family’s initial investment so we can combat my uncle’s attempts to destroy us.”

Mr. Lau smiled sympathetically. “You could have called, Mr. Rosolini. There was no need to come all the way to Hong Kong.”

My heart sank. His words weren’t those of a man agreeing to a request.

“I wanted to ask in person,” I said, “given the unusual circumstances.”

“My heart goes out to you – it truly does. But you know the company cannot release any funds for 24 months after the initial investment.”

“I realize that’s the ordinary way of doing business – ”

“It was in the contract you signed.”

“Yes, but – ”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you, Mr. Rosolini. ”

I soldiered on, refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer.

“The initial deposit was in Bitcoin. Assuming you’ve kept it in Bitcoin, you’ve seen a 50% increase in value over the last two months. Keep the 50% as a penalty. All we ask is the return of the initial 50 million euros.”

Lau sighed. “Mr. Rosolini – ”

“My brothers and I intend to re-invest with the Syndicate after this business with my uncle is concluded. The Syndicate could dictate terms more beneficial to itself when we resume our relationship.”

“I’m afraid that any release of funds before the 24-month period ends is quite impossible.”

Desperation began to set in. “My brother, the CEO of my family’s business, has authorized me to negotiate terms. We would accept less than the full 50 million euros, depending on the offer. Obviously, you would keep the remainder as a penalty for early withdrawal.”

Lau gave me his grandfatherly smile again. “I’m sorry… but no.”

His refusal to meet me halfway – or even one tenth of the way – made me angry.

“You realize I’m not asking for the funds to buy a yacht,” I said curtly. “We need the money as a matter of life and death.”

“And I hope you realize that I’m not being difficult for the sake of being difficult,” Lau replied. “You signed an agreement that all our investors are subject to. Making an exception for you would be highly unfair to the other partners.”

“In that case, I’d like to request a meeting of the partners,” I said, playing my only trump card. “Under the bylaws, as one of the Syndicate’s major investors, I have the right to request an emergency meeting at any point – correct?”

Lau’s smile disappeared. “Technically, yes, but not for – ”

“I would like to speak with the other investors, especially those who are in a position to understand my situation. Specifically Mr. Gota and Mr. Xi.”

Gota (pronounced GO-tuh) was a high-ranking figure in a branch of the Yakuza, Japan’s version of the mafia.

Xi (pronounced Zee) was the head of a triad group, China’s system of organized crime.

I had met them during my previous trip to Hong Kong months ago.

Lau knew I thought that the other gangsters would be more sympathetic to my plight and thus more willing to negotiate.

He wasn’t happy about it.

“The purpose of emergency meetings,” he said sharply, “is to discuss developments that could influence all members’ investments.”

“Considering that they could make 25 million euros with absolutely no risk on their part, I think they might want to hear my proposal.”

Lau clenched his jaw. He knew Gota and Xi might be angry if he didn’t at least present them with my offer. After all, they stood to make millions simply for letting me out of my contract.

And if Lau refused to deliver my message, I would absolutely make sure Gota and Xi found out – even if I had to go see them in person.

After all, I was already in Hong Kong. Tokyo and Beijing weren’t that far away.

Lau gave me a grim smile. “Alright… I’ll present your request to the other partners and notify you of their decision.”

“Thank you. I’ll remain in Hong Kong until we meet or the matter is otherwise resolved.”

“Where are you staying?”

“I hadn’t gotten that far.”

“You didn’t reserve a hotel room?” Lau asked in surprise.

“If you had agreed to my request, I would have immediately turned around and flown back home.”

I was hoping Lau might relent just to get rid of me – but he didn’t play along.

However, he did play at being nice.

“The Syndicate owns several excellent hotels in Hong Kong. We’ll put you up in a penthouse at the Continental. Complimentary, of course.”

“I appreciate that, but – ”

“I insist,” Lau said, but this time he used the grandfatherly smile. “It’s the least we can do after you’ve come such a long way.”

Mr. Han spoke for the first time since we’d walked into the office. “His twin brother is in Macau at the El Dorado.”

Lau raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You have a twin brother?”

“Yes.”

“Well, he’s welcome to stay with you, too. Regretfully, I have other plans this evening – but Mr. Han will take you to Macau in my stead. Anything you and your brother desire, just tell Mr. Han, and he will take care of it.”

“Thank you, but that’s not necessary.”

“Ah… but I insist,” Lau said, again with that grandfatherly smile.

I once read a Forbes article about a tradition in Japan. Japanese CEOs and department heads were expected to personally entertain out-of-town visitors who had come for business. Not to do so was the height of rudeness.

The article told the story of a Japanese CEO who ‘apologized’ for his inability to entertain an American businessman and instead gave him thousands of dollars so the American could go out on his own.

The American was delighted, not realizing that the Japanese businessman had gravely insulted him. To put it crudely, the CEO had treated the American like a whore and paid him to go away.

I had no idea if Chinese and Japanese business culture was the same in that regard.

Was Lau treating me with contempt by pawning me off on an underling?

Or was he just saddling me with a babysitter to keep an eye on me?

Whatever the case, I decided not to fight it. After my veiled threat to speak with Gota and Xi behind Lau’s back, I didn’t think it wise to antagonize him any more than I already had.

Not if I wanted my 50 million euros back.

I forced myself to smile. “In that case, I would be delighted.”

13

Mr. Lau suggested we use the Syndicate’s private helicopter, which was waiting on the roof of the building.

On the way up, I texted Niccolo to let him know we were coming.

‘We’? he texted back.

Han is coming, too.

Lovely, he replied. I could hear the sarcasm dripping from his response. I just started eating, but you and Mr. Han are welcome to join me when you arrive.

Where are you? I asked.

A steak house called Cabana on the main floor of the El Dorado.

See you there.

I assumed Han had taken similar helicopter trips many times because he seemed unfazed by our flight. I, on the other hand, watched through the window as we took off and soared above Hong Kong.

The city had two parts, separated by a bay: a forest of skyscrapers on the mainland, and even more buildings along the northern coast of Hong Kong Island.

Down in the bay, dozens of cargo ships waited for their turn to unload on the docks.

A little further west were small, uninhabited islands, each maybe 10 to 40 acres in size…

Then Lantau, the massive island that was the site of the airport. Lantau was far less populated than Hong Kong, and most of its buildings were houses and apartments.

Then came a vast expanse of water…

Followed by land dotted with buildings, none nearly as impressive as Hong Kong’s skyscrapers…

And then the international playground of Macau, which looked like someone had rebuilt Las Vegas on the seaside.

Our helicopter soared over a dozen casinos and landed atop a 40-story hotel with gold-colored windows.

El Dorado.

As soon as Han and I disembarked, a hostess led us into a rooftop lounge where other travelers awaited their helicopter rides. From the lounge, we took an elevator down to the main casino floor.

A cacophony of beeps and chimes assaulted me as soon as the elevator doors opened. Everywhere I looked were flashing lights, computer graphics, and crowds of people hunched over slot machines.

“Where is your brother?” Han asked.

“A steak house called Cabana.”

“I know it. Follow me.”

We walked past blackjack dealers, roulette wheels, and dozens of large tables, around which sat hundreds of poker players.

“The tournament I mentioned,” Han said.

I noted that the poker players were of many different nationalities. Mostly Asians, but also plenty of Westerners.

We finally reached Cabana, an expensive-looking restaurant with dark wood décor.

My brother was sitting alone in a booth, his meal almost finished. As soon as he saw us, he waved us over.

I sat down opposite Niccolo. After a second’s hesitation, Han sat beside me.

“Hello,” Niccolo greeted us cheerfully, then looked at me. “So, how did the meeting go?”

“Nothing’s been determined, so I’ll be staying in Hong Kong for at least another day.”

“Probably longer,” Han added.

I looked at him in surprise.

“Mr. Gota and Mr. Xi are very busy men,” he said in a bored voice.

I turned back to Niccolo. “Sounds like I might be staying in Hong Kong for a few days.”

“Hm,” Niccolo said noncommittally. “I’m flying out tomorrow morning, so if this isn’t resolved by then – ”

“It won’t be,” Han said.

Niccolo flashed him an annoyed look before he returned his gaze to me. “Then I’ll have to leave you here by yourself.”

“I’ll manage,” I replied. “Did you find what you wanted here?”

I phrased it that vaguely because of Han. If he hadn’t been sitting next to me, I would have been far more inquisitive.

“I did: an excellent filet mignon.” Niccolo smiled and lifted his mostly-empty wine glass. “I recommend the Montepulciano d’Abruzzo to go with it. I swear, they have better Italian wines on the menu here than most restaurants back in Florence.”

Han flagged down a waitress, who brought us two leatherbound menus.

“By the way,” I said to Niccolo, “we’ll be staying at the Continental Hotel in Hong Kong. Mr. Lau offered us the penthouse suite.”

“Sounds lovely,” Niccolo replied, “but I already booked a room here.”

I stared at him. “You’re not coming back to Hong Kong?”

“Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I have other business to attend to. I hate to be rude, gentlemen, but I must take my leave of you.” He stood up and smiled. “Would you cover my bill?”

“…uh… sure,” I said in bewilderment.

“Excellent. If I don’t see you before I leave, I’ll see you back home. Give me a call and keep me updated on your progress.”

“…alright…”

“Mr. Han – a pleasure,” Niccolo said. This time, he didn’t extend his hand to shake. “Arrivederci.”

Then he walked out of the restaurant and into the bustling crowds of the casino.

“Is he always like that?” Han asked as he watched Niccolo disappear.

“How do you mean?”

“Abrupt.”

“Sometimes,” I muttered, not knowing what else to say. Niccolo’s behavior completely mystified me.

14

I’ll say this for dinner: the food was excellent.

The company, on the other hand, was boring as hell.

Once Niccolo left, Han switched to the other side of the booth and said virtually nothing throughout the entire meal. I tried asking him a few questions about Lau and the Syndicate but quit when I got one-word answers in return.

It wasn’t until we finished eating that Han asked, “What would you like to do after dinner?”

“Go back to the hotel and sleep.”

“Mr. Lau would be severely disappointed with me if I didn’t do my best to entertain you.”

“Then he’ll have to be disappointed.”

Han gestured at the casino. “We’re already here. We might as well gamble.”

“I don’t gamble.”

Han raised one eyebrow. “Not at all?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“The odds are always in the house’s favor. On a long enough timeline, everyone but the house loses, and I don’t like throwing my money away.”

“The house doesn’t participate in poker games other than as dealer,” Han said. “It’s only players. How about a few hands?”

“No, thank you.”

Han smirked. “You don’t know how to play, do you?”

I gave him a withering look. “I know how to play poker.”

“Then let’s play a few hands.”

“I’m not interested in playing in a tournament.”

“We can’t enter – it’s too late. I was thinking of one of the tables for the high rollers.”

“As I said before, I don’t like throwing my money away.”

“I’ll tell you what: the Syndicate has a line of credit here. I’ll have the casino front you $100,000 in chips. If you lose, you owe us nothing. Anything you win above $100,000, you keep. How about that?”

I could tell Han really wanted to play. This was probably one of the few perks of his job – cutting loose with clients, which included getting drunk and gambling.

The alternative was going back to my hotel suite and being alone.

Which, to be honest, sounded quite appealing at the moment.

However, I figured it might be advantageous to get on Han’s good side.

“If I lose, I owe you nothing… but I keep any winnings above $100,000,” I reiterated, wanting to make sure we were on the same page.

“Exactly.”

“…why the hell not, then.”

For the first time since we’d met, Han smiled. “Good.”

Han got $200,000 worth of chips from a cashier – 100K for him, 100K for me – and we joined a game of Texas Hold ‘Em at a high roller’s table.

Several of the players had already lost in the tournament and were looking for some rubes to hustle. They eagerly welcomed fresh meat.

I quickly saw I’d been right: this was the one time Han got to have fun on the job. He ordered a whisky and began betting aggressively.

I, on the other hand, stuck to soda water with a lime wedge and played very conservatively.

When I folded for the fifth time in a row during the first round of betting, Han asked incredulously, “Why do you keep folding?!”

“That’s the first rule of poker: fold early, fold often.”

“That’s no fun.”

“Making money is fun. Losing money isn’t.”

“But you don’t know if you’ll lose money this early in the betting. You could get lucky.”

“I don’t rely on luck, and I don’t care to test the odds when they’re against me.”

Han grumbled and ordered another whiskey.

On the eighth hand, I finally got cards I liked.

When I called his bet on the flop (the first three cards dealt face-up), Han looked at me with interest. “Oh, so now you’re playing.”

“The odds are in my favor.”

“Are they,” he said with a condescending smile.

“Yes, they are.”

I had a photographic memory for numbers, and I’d memorized the basic probabilities when I’d played with Adriano and Massimo in Monte Carlo years ago.

With the cards currently showing, I was in excellent shape.

On the turn – the fourth card dealt face-up – I bet $10,000.

The other players at the table folded. Now it was just me and Han.

He squinted at me. “I can’t tell if you’re bluffing or not.”

“I never bluff.”

He grinned. “Riiiiight.”

I stared him dead in the eyes. “I never bluff.”

He smirked. “Let’s find out. I see your 10 and raise you 20.”

I called his bet.

The river – the fifth face-up card – didn’t help me, but it didn’t hurt me, either.

“30,000,” Han said as he tossed in some chips.

“All in,” I said, pushing everything I had into the middle of the table.

Han stared at me, his eyes boring deep into mine as he tried to figure me out.

“I never bluff,” I reminded him.

“We’ll see. I call.”

He flipped over his cards: flush.

I flipped mine over.

Full house – three Queens and two Jacks.

I had known that my hand was the best possible. That had been the only reason I’d continued betting.

Han looked morose as I raked in all his money.

“I told you I never bluff,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah…” he grumbled.

Han got another $100,000 in chips and we continued playing.

Over the next two hours, I folded 36 out of 39 times. Most of the time, I folded on the first round of betting.

I won the other three hands and raked in $175,000.

“When are you going to believe me?” I asked Han.

“I believe you now,” he groaned. “You never bluff.”

I just smiled as I arranged my chips into piles.

When Han was on his sixth whiskey and third rack of chips, he said out of nowhere, “I’m bored with poker. What about you?”

“We can stop whenever you want.”

Even figuring in the $100,000 I had to pay back, I was up over $200,000 – more than half of Niccolo’s and my private flight to Hong Kong. A good night.

“Let’s cash out,” Han slurred.

We left the table immediately and went to the cashier’s.

I retained a small portion of my winnings in Hong Kong dollars just to have some walking-around money. The rest I took as a check for $227,510 US.

Once I’d pocketed my winnings, I looked at my watch.

11 PM Hong Kong time. Although it was only 5 PM back in Italy, I was starting to feel the weariness from my plane trip.

“What do you want to do now?” Han asked.

“Go back to my hotel room and sleep.”

“Come on – don’t be boring.”

“I pride myself on being boring.”

He snorted. “I can believe that. How about a nightclub?”

“Absolutely not.”

“There’s a couple of good strip clubs nearby.”

“No, thank you.”

Han looked around as though afraid he might be overheard, then leaned in close. “I know a couple of brothels we could go to.”

“Why are you whispering?”

Han smirked. “Because brothels are illegal in both Macau and Hong Kong.”

“Oh. No, I’m good, thank you.”

He frowned. “Are you into men?”

“No,” I snapped.

“Drugs?”

“No!”

“Then there’s nothing left.” He caught himself as though remembering something. “Well… except for De Sade.”

duh SAHD.

I froze.

The name was most likely a nod to the Marquis de Sade, a dissolute aristocrat who lived during the French Revolution and the Napoleonic era. For many years, he was imprisoned in an insane asylum. His perverse novels and plays scandalized French society, and his name became the source of the word ‘sadist.’

“What’s De Sade?” I asked.

Han cocked an eyebrow, amused by my reaction. “A BDSM club in Lan Kwai Fong – Hong Kong’s nightlife district. It’s pretty upscale, but it’s freaky.”

I stood there for a long moment, weighing what I should do.

I knew what the wise choice would be…

But I ultimately decided against it.

“I wouldn’t mind taking a look,” I said. Then I added hastily, “Purely out of curiosity.”

Han grinned and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “I don’t give a fuck. Let’s go!”

15

The 15-minute helicopter ride back was amazing. The gaudy neons of Macau disappeared as we soared out over the water and were enveloped in darkness, and the lights of Hong Kong twinkled in the distance.

The closer we got to Hong Kong, the more neon I saw amongst the white city lights – but the subtler reds and blues were quite pretty compared with Macau’s tacky golds, greens, and oranges.

We landed atop the Syndicate skyscraper, then went down to the limo still parked underground. As the car drove through the brightly lit streets of Hong Kong, Han laughed drunkenly and told me raunchy tales of his exploits in the city.

Lan Kwai Fong was the nightclub district, and I could see why. While the road we traveled was still navigable by cars, the side streets were filled to overflowing with thousands of people in clubbing attire: men in slacks and short-sleeve collared shirts and women in tiny black dresses.

“The place we’re going isn’t as crowded as that, is it?” I asked with dread as I stared at the masses of people.

“No, no, it’s classy,” Han reassured me. “You’ll see.”

We reached a building resembling a miniature version of the Syndicate’s skyscraper, with only 10 floors instead of 70. The limo stopped at the curb.

“Come on,” Han said as he spilled out onto the sidewalk.

I followed him into the building’s lobby, which was decorated in black marble. The place was empty except for two men in suits standing at attention – obviously security.

They nodded at Han as he led me into an elevator.

“They know you?” I asked.

“Everybody knows me,” he said smugly.

“You come here often?”

He laughed. “I don’t come for me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I didn’t press the matter any further.

We reached the top floor, and the doors opened onto a lobby of more black marble.

The only object in the room was a single door upholstered in red leather.

There was no one else in the lobby. No sign, no guards, no nothing.

“Come on,” Han said as he draped his arm around my shoulders and led me to the door.

He looked up at a small black security camera on the ceiling, which I hadn’t noticed because it blended in with the marble.

“Let us in!” he yelled.

There was an audible CLICK as a lock released, and Han pushed open the door.

Once we crossed the threshold, everything changed.

The hallway on the other side of the door was still done up in black, but there were tasteful arrangements of orchids and lilies set into recessed spaces in the walls.

Dim lighting cast pools of warmth on the floor.

Classical music played quietly over the sound system, almost too low to be heard.

A couple of men in expensive suits stood farther down the hallway. They were talking to two women, both wearing lingerie and high heels.

A young Asian woman in a leather dress studded with metal spikes stood by the doorway. She smiled at us.

“Welcome to De Sade, Mr. Han,” she said in perfect English. “And who might your guest be?”

“We’re good,” he said rudely without looking at her, then pulled me down the hallway with his arm still draped around my shoulders. “C’mon, let’s hit the bar.”

We passed several doors upholstered in black leather, all of them shut. One of them opened briefly, and out stepped a woman wearing form-fitting black leather.

In the room behind her, white satin curtains covered every wall –

And a naked man knelt on the floor, his hands and feet bound with rope behind him. Bright red welts covered his back and bare ass.

The woman caught my eye and smiled, then gave me a look like Naughty boy, you shouldn’t be seeing this as she closed the door behind her.

“Freaky shit,” Han muttered as he pulled me along with him.

We reached an open doorway where marble stairs descended to a vast and shadowy lounge area. Modern chandeliers made of rods of crystalline glass hung 25 feet overhead.

Apparently the club took up both the 9th and 10th floors of the building; that was the only way there could be so much space.

We descended the stairs to the lounge. Directly ahead of us was a beautifully decorated bar, its shelves of bottles backlit with a dim red light.

A woman in a tuxedo was pouring drinks. Her head was shaved, she wore no makeup, and her features weren’t overly feminine; I only knew she was a woman by the swell of her chest under the tuxedo.

All around us were small tables with interesting pairings of people.

A woman wearing a conservative dress talked shyly to a handsome man in a black suit.

Businessmen of various ages chatted up women wearing only lingerie and heels.

A middle-aged couple – he in a suit and she in a red dress – whispered to a woman in a strappy dominatrix ensemble.

And at another table, a naked woman sat drinking a martini as a man in a black body suit crouched beside her like a dog. In addition to the latex body suit, he wore a leash and a leather mask with no eye holes, just a zipper over the mouth.

“Freaky shit,” Han repeated in disgust as he turned away from the man on the leash and headed for the bar.

Most of the people in the room were Asian, but there were some Westerners here and there.

God only knows where the man in the zippered mask hailed from.

Along the far wall of the lounge were recessed booths with black curtains that could be closed for privacy.

Most of the curtains were shut, although one was open at the far end of the room.

Inside the booth, a couple was having sex. Both were fully clothed, but the woman wore a short skirt pulled up around her waist, and she sat on the man’s lap as she vigorously bobbed up and down.

Her eyes met mine, and she held my gaze like her life depended on it. From the way her mouth opened into an ‘O’ and her features contorted, I realized that our eye contact had tipped her over into an orgasm.

“What do you want to drink?” Han asked behind me.

I turned around in a daze, a bit shocked at the display of exhibitionism, and saw Han already had a glass in hand.

“I thought you said prostitution was illegal in Hong Kong,” I whispered.

“I said brothels are illegal. There’s this law called ‘one woman, one room’ – you can bang a whore as long as she’s got her own place.”

I didn’t like the way he sneered ‘whore,’ but I let it go.

“What about them?” I asked, gesturing towards the booth.

Han looked over at the couple. “It’d be illegal if one of them worked here.”

“How do you know one of them doesn’t work here?”

“Because they’re both laowai.”

The word rhymed with ‘how why.’ The way Han said it, it didn’t sound complimentary.

“‘Laowai’?” I repeated.

Han smirked. “Westerners. No laowai work at De Sade.”

Han was correct: neither the man nor the woman were Asian.

“Aren’t the things that go on in this club illegal?” I asked.

“Not if you don’t have sex. What do you want?” he asked again as he held up his drink.

“Nothing, thank you.”

“Fuck that,” Han said, and turned back to the bartender. “Get him a whiskey.”

“No – ”

“Then choose your drink, but get something.”

“Fine. Scotch, neat – your oldest Macallan, if you have it.”

“We do,” the bartender answered with a British accent. “25 alright?”

She meant 25 years old.

It was going to be a pricey glass of liquor – probably a thousand dollars per shot.

Fuck it.

If Mr. Lau didn’t cover it, I would use my winnings at the casino. Han had already transferred plenty of his boss’s money into my pockets via poker.

“That will be fine,” I said.

“Alriiiiiight, the good stuff,” Han said approvingly. While the bartender poured my drink, he asked, “So – you into this weird shit?”

I’m into a few things you’d probably consider strange, Mr. Han.

“No, just curious,” I said.

And it was true. I didn’t go in for the more ‘exotic’ sights on display.

My tastes were far simpler…

Though I was sure they would be looked down upon by Mr. Han.

And quite probably my brothers…

Which is why I kept them secret.

The bartender nudged a glass of Scotch over to me.

“Thank you,” I said as I reached for my wallet –

“Your money’s no good here,” Han said.

“Thank you.”

“Sure. If you see something else you like,” Han said, gesturing towards the lingerie-clad women in the lounge, “get whatever you want.”

I looked around the room, mildly curious but mostly disinterested –

Until I saw an Asian woman walking across the floor.

She was stunning.

Waves of curly dark hair framed her round face.

Her smoky eye shadow set off the most beautiful brown eyes I had ever seen.

Her cheekbones were amazing, and her sensual lips were painted a dark crimson.

She wore a black cheongsam – the traditional tight-fitting Chinese dress with a high neck, short sleeves, and a slit all the way up her thigh.

Thanks to that slit, I caught a glimpse of her magnificent legs as she strolled between tables.

She exuded poise, grace, confidence, and a sultry femininity that left me slack-jawed.

“I just found what I want,” I said to Han, then broke away from him and headed towards the woman.

16

Iquickly walked over and put myself directly in her path. “Hello.”

Her eyes widened as she stopped in surprise. “Oh – hello.”

Her voice was absolute music: soft and warm, with the sexiest and most demure British accent imaginable.

At 5’7” in heels, she was about six inches shorter than me. Up close, I could see that her black cheongsam had a dark green dragon embroidered on it. The head and claws extended down the front of her dress, while the dragon’s body curled over her shoulder and presumably down her back.

“I had to come over and meet you.” I extended my hand. “My name is Roberto Rosolini.”

She smiled as she took my hand. “Chan Mei-ling.”

Her skin was like silk; her grasp was so soft, it was like I was holding the petals of a flower.

In Asian countries, the family name comes first. Chan was a common family name, so I knew her ‘first’ name – her given name – was Mei-ling.

May-LEENG.

“That’s beautiful… does your name have a meaning?” I asked.

“‘Beautiful spirit’ or ‘beautiful bell,’ depending on how you wish to interpret it.” A change in her expression indicated she was about to brush me off. “Mr. Rosolini, I – ”

“Call me Roberto. May I buy you a drink? Say yes.”

“Mr. Rosolini – ”

“Say yes,” I repeated in a slightly different voice.

“I don’t – ”

“Say yes,” I said one last time, trying to make my voice as mischievous as possible.

The third time was the charm. She laughed silently – just a smile and a couple of movements of her shoulders.

“…alright. Just one.”

“What would you like?” I asked.

“Jiangbei knows,” she said as she gave a slight nod of her head in the direction of the bar.

The female bartender in the tuxedo nodded in return and started preparing something.

I noticed that Han was grinning like an idiot as he watched me. I chose to ignore him.

“Why don’t we sit?” I asked.

“I’d love to,” she said with a smile, and led the way to one of the recessed booths. We sat on opposite sides. I could smell her perfume – an intoxicating mix of floral notes and delicate spice.

“Is this your first time at De Sade?” she asked politely.

“It is.”

“Is everything to your liking?”

“It is now that I’m talking with you.”

“Mm.” It was a pleasant sound, and she said it with a smile, but I could tell she was humoring me. I was sure a hundred men told her every night how stunning she was.

This was the part I hated: trying to interest a woman I’d just met. I wasn’t a natural seducer like my youngest brother, Valentino. I couldn’t rely on wit and charm like Niccolo. And I had nowhere near the magnetism of Dario, or the ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude of Adriano, or the quiet confidence of Massimo.

To be honest, I always got lost in this stage of the interaction. I had no idea how to make myself seem interesting.

The bartender rescued me when she came over and hand-delivered a drink to Mei-Ling. It was an off-white liquid in a martini glass with three small, white, pulpy orbs speared on a tiny bamboo umbrella.

Mei-ling said something in Chinese to the bartender, who nodded and walked away.

“That looks delicious,” I said. “What is it?”

“A lemon lychee cocktail. Have you had lychee fruit before?”

“I can’t say that I have.”

“It’s quite good. Very sweet and delicate. Have Jiangbei make one for you later.” She took a sip of the drink. “So – what is it that you do, Roberto?”

I wanted to say something sexy and dangerous: I’m a member of a Cosa Nostra family fighting a war with my uncle and cousin.

But instead I said, “I’m in finance.”

Technically correct, but utterly boring.

On the other hand, it would have been idiotic and foolhardy to reveal the true nature of my business just to impress a woman.

“We have quite a few customers in that field,” she said pleasantly.

“So you work here?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

My heart began beating much faster. “I…”

Then I trailed off.

Mei-ling raised her eyebrows in anticipation of my question.

“…how much would it be to spend the evening with you?” I asked.

She gave me a smile, though it was cool and slightly contemptuous. “You don’t have enough money to spend the evening with me, Mr. Rosolini.”

That answer took me aback.

And not just that she’d stopped using ‘Roberto.’

You don’t have enough money to spend the evening with me, Mr. Rosolini.

I wanted to say, I have a cashier’s check in my pocket for $227,000 that says otherwise, but that would have been crude and boastful – the opposite of how I wanted to present myself.

“What about $10,000 per hour of your time?” I offered.

I was expecting the offer to surprise her – maybe even stun her into silence.

What I did not expect was for her to scoff at me dismissively. “No, thank you.”

I frowned. “I don’t understand. You said you work here – correct?”

“You said that. I said, ‘In a manner of speaking.’”

“So what does that mean, exactly?” I asked, a bit more sharply than I intended. I didn’t like verbal games and clever asides – mostly because I was terrible at them. I always preferred to be direct.

All warmth dropped from her voice, leaving only cool condescension. “It means I own De Sade, Mr. Rosolini.”

“…ah,” I said, realizing just how badly I’d overstepped. “I apologize. I’m unfamiliar with the club and how things work around here.”

“You could have asked,” she said with a fake smile. “Instead of assuming.”

I was beginning to grow irritated. It had been a simple misunderstanding and not entirely out of place given the kind of establishment we were in.

“Alright, let me ask you this,” I said. “You seem to have taken offense that I assumed you work here. But what’s so wrong with that? You own the club; surely you value your employees and their work. What’s so wrong with someone mistaking you for an employee?”

“I assume from your expensive suit and Rolex that you’re very successful in finance, Mr. Rosolini,” she said. “Am I correct?”

It felt like she was laying a trap for me. I tried to evade it. “I like to dress this way, so I do.”

“But you are very successful at your profession, are you not?”

The trap loomed closer. I could sense it coming.

“More or less,” I answered.

“How would you like it if a visitor mistook you for an entry-level accountant?”

“It wouldn’t bother me in the slightest.”

She laughed, but not pleasantly. “Given the status and wealth you project, I find that hard to believe.”

I clenched my jaw as I smiled. “It’s a family business, so it’s not like I’m the CFO of a major corporation. If I were mistaken for one of my very few employees, all of whom are excellent at what they do – as I said, it wouldn’t bother me in the slightest.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Let me change the question, then. How would you feel if someone asked you to fetch them coffee? Or do some other menial job?”

“So you consider your employees’ work to be menial?” I shot back.

“No…”

Fire flashed in her eyes as she stared me down.

“…but I’m the owner. And since my employees’ work is sexual in nature, I don’t like to be propositioned for whatever it is you think you can buy me for, Mr. Rosolini.”

At that moment, she would have been overwhelmingly alluring if she wasn’t so goddamn high-and-mighty.

“I wasn’t – ” I began, but she abruptly stood up from the booth.

“Since this is my club, and since you didn’t actually pay for my drink, I think our time is at an end.” She smiled oh-so-sweetly and oh-so-fakely. “You’re welcome to ask any of my employees what they’re willing to do, but I would advise you to ASK… rather than assuming you already know. Good evening, Mr. Rosolini.”

And with that, she turned and walked away.

I sat there, my mouth open, not sure whether I was furious or aroused. Or both.

Over by the bar, Han was nearly doubled over with laughter.

I got out of the booth and walked towards him. I glanced in the direction Mei-ling had gone, but she’d disappeared into the shadows.

“What’s so funny?” I snapped when I reached Han.

“YOU,” he laughed. “Your expression – it was priceless.”

I felt my face flush hot with both embarrassment and anger.

“Yeah, well… I guess I did get my ass handed to me,” I muttered.

Han slapped me on the shoulder in a way that reminded me of Adriano or Massimo. “Ahhh, don’t take it too hard. You’re not the first to get ripped a new one by Chan Mei-ling.”

I frowned. “So you know her?”

“Everybody knows her. Or knows about her, anyway. She’s a stone-cold bitch.”

I didn’t like him calling her that. It made me angry for some reason.

“She wasn’t a bitch,” I said. “I assumed she was a worker and propositioned her, not realizing she owns the club. She had a right to be offended.”

Han’s laughter slowly died off, though he kept smiling in a grim sort of way. “Is that what she said? That she owns the club?”

“Yes,” I replied, unsure why his attitude had shifted.

“…huh,” he muttered.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Han suddenly snapped back into friendly mode. “Ahhh, don’t let her ruin your night.” He waved his arm around the room. “There’s a ton of hot women at De Sade. Get whichever one you want.”

“No. I’m good.”

“Come on.”

“I’m serious. I’d like to leave.”

“But – ”

I stared him straight in the eyes. “Take me back to the hotel. Please.”

I said ‘please’ like Don’t make me tell you again.

Han shook his head and sighed, then turned and headed for the stairs.

What I couldn’t tell him was that there was only one woman I wanted…

And if I couldn’t have her, I wouldn’t settle for anyone else.

It was her, or nothing.

And since I couldn’t have her…

‘Nothing’ was what it would be.

17

An hour later, I stood at the window of my penthouse looking out over the lights of Hong Kong.

Despite my irritation at Mr. Lau refusing to return my family’s money, I had to admit he’d given me a luxurious suite in his hotel.

Unfortunately, I was too distracted to pay much attention to my surroundings.

After I’d locked away the $227,000 check in an electronic safe, I took a bottle of scotch from the penthouse’s bar and proceeded to get drunk.

I kept rerunning the scene with Mei-ling in my head, picking apart every mistake I’d made and coming up with other possibilities.

But more than that, I kept imagining her eyes… her hair…

How her body would look as I slowly unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor.

The way her mouth would open in pleasure as my fingers gently brushed between her legs.

I’d seen plenty of other men become obsessed with women. It was practically a national pastime for Italian males.

Dario had certainly lost his mind over Alessandra when they first met. I had watched him unravel right before my eyes.

But at least their story had a happy ending.

I had always thought it could never happen to me… and yet here I was, struck by the ‘thunderbolt’ – the old Sicilian term for love at first sight.

Actually, not ‘love’…

But overwhelming desire.

Lust.

Obsession.

The fact that she’d rejected me only whetted my appetite.

The fire I’d seen in her eyes only fanned the flames of my desire.

I had to have her.

I would have her.

It was only a question of how.

I poured myself another glass of scotch. I figured that was the only way I was going to be able to get to sleep tonight.

And even then, I would dream of her…

And what I was going to do to her once I had her.

18

My cell phone woke me.

I opened my bleary eyes to white-hot sunlight streaming through the windows.

The digital ringtone, normally just background noise, was like an icepick through my eardrums.

I propped myself up on one elbow and immediately regretted it as my head throbbed and the room spun slightly.

I noted that I was only wearing boxers. I didn’t remember undressing, but apparently I had before I’d collapsed into bed.

I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand and saw Niccolo’s name on the screen. I answered immediately.

“…hello?” I croaked.

“Jesus, SOMEBODY went through the meat grinder,” my brother said cheerfully in Italian. “It’s almost 11 AM – aren’t you out of bed yet? Or did you even GO to bed?”

“Can you not speak so loudly?” I groaned.

“I’m speaking in a normal voice, you little reprobate. How much did you drink last night?”

I glanced over at the bottle of scotch on my nightstand. It was nearly a third empty.

“Too much,” I muttered.

“I’ll bet. Anyway, I’m about to leave Hong Kong.”

“Did you book a private jet?”

“No, I’m flying commercial. First class – got the last seat available.”

My eyes opened wide despite the sunlight setting my retinas on fire. “Is that wise?”

“Flying OUT of Italy was the problem. I don’t think flying IN will be an issue.”

“It’ll certainly be cheaper…”

“Amen. Speaking of money we don’t have, what says Mr. Lau?”

I winced, and not just from my hangover. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him today.”

“Of course not. You’re still in bed, recovering from an epic bender,” Niccolo said sardonically.

“I’ll get the money,” I said crossly.

“About that… be careful.”

“Of course I’ll be careful.”

“No – be CAREFUL. Like you would if we were back home.”

I frowned. “Why do you say that?”

There was a long pause. When he finally spoke, Niccolo sounded cagey.

“Look, I can’t tell you HOW I know, so don’t ask… but I have reason to believe that these Syndicate people aren’t going to cooperate with you.”

“Well, they certainly don’t want to – but I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Hrm,” he grunted, not sounding convinced at all. “Don’t react to the next thing I’m about to tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because I think it’s possible your room might be bugged.”

Panic flowed through me as I sat up in bed. “What?!”

Niccolo sighed in exasperation. “I just told you not to react.”

“I didn’t say anything – ”

“No, you just freaked out like I told you there’s a bomb in the room.”

My heart hammered in my chest. “Is there?!”

I was severely hung over. I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

“No!” he said with a laugh. “Well, not as far as I KNOW, and I assume it’s extremely doubtful. But are you going to be quiet when I tell you the thing I need to tell you?”

“Yes,” I said crankily. “Go ahead.”

“I think Fausto might have already gotten to your so-called ‘friends’ in the Syndicate.”

THAT sobered me up quickly.

And this time I remembered I wasn’t supposed to react.

“Why do you say that?” I asked neutrally.

“Like I mentioned, I can’t tell you how I know. And I’m not absolutely certain.”

“How certain are you, would you say? If you had to put a number on it?”

“At least 80%. Maybe more.”

My stomach felt even worse, and not just from the alcohol.

Niccolo could be histrionic and over-the-top with others; when he was, it was almost always an act.

But with me, he was fairly down-to-earth… so when he said he was 80% sure, I took it very seriously.

“Like I said, be careful,” Niccolo continued. “This thing with the Syndicate… if it starts to go sideways, get OUT.”

“I’m coming back with the money, Niccolo,” I said quietly.

My brother’s voice was earnest and affectionate – a rarity in most of our conversations. “You’re a million times more important than any amount of money, Roberto.”

I was sincerely touched by the kindness in his voice. “Thank you… but I’m still coming back with it.”

“Alright. Just be careful.”

“I will.”

“By the way, I need the names of the bank managers who authorized the wire transfers.”

I knew exactly why he wanted them.

Anybody who helped Fausto steal from us was going to get whacked – if for no other reason than to dissuade other people from doing similar things in the future.

“Do you have a piece of paper?”

This was one piece of information I wasn’t about to send in a text or email, in case the cops should ever get a warrant to check our phone records.

“Yes, hold on.”

Once he was ready, I listed the banks and the managers who had been involved with the fraudulent wire transfers.

After the trauma of seeing all our money gone, that information was seared in my brain.

“Good,” Niccolo said after he had all the information. “Talk to you soon, little brother.”

I’d been born 10 minutes after Niccolo, so he’d called me ‘little brother’ since we were kids.

As children, he’d done it to annoy me – and it had worked. I’d hated it.

But now it was a term of endearment.

“Talk to you soon.”

19

After I hung up with Niccolo, I considered what I should do next.

I couldn’t call Lau yet. I felt like a truck had run over me, and I didn’t want the old man to hear it in my voice.

Instead, I plugged my phone into a charger and prepared for my day.

Exercise was out of the question. I would probably vomit if I tried.

Instead, I took a freezing cold shower. I stayed under the icy water for a full 10 minutes. It was torture, but it cleared away the fuzziness in my head.

I toweled off, shaved, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, applied a dab of cologne, and dressed in the crisp white shirt and dark grey suit in my garment bag.

I hadn’t brought many clothes – I’d anticipated being in Hong Kong 48 hours at most – so I called the front desk and had the suit I’d worn yesterday picked up for dry-cleaning.

Then I called room service and ordered some food.

Twenty minutes later, breakfast was delivered on a white linen-covered table.

I wasn’t in the mood for a so-called ‘continental breakfast,’ so I went with a more American selection.

An order of toasted whole-grain bread with butter on the side…

Half a grapefruit…

Scrambled eggs…

And a carafe of espresso equivalent to four small cups.

I was used to Italian espresso. The hotel’s version was mediocre at best, but it did the job of jolting me awake.

At least the food was fairly good.

After I’d eaten and felt somewhat back to normal, I called Mr. Lau.

His secretary put me right through.

“Mr. Rosolini,” he said pleasantly. “I trust you had an entertaining evening with Mr. Han?”

“It was nice,” I lied.

Meeting Mei-ling had been extraordinary. The rest of my time with Han – dinner and gambling – had been dull. Certainly not ‘nice.’

“Excellent. Are your accommodations adequate?”

“Much more than adequate,” I said truthfully. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“It’s my pleasure. What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to know what the other investors said about my request for a meeting.”

Lau chuckled. “I thought that might be why you were calling. I haven’t heard back from Mr. Gota or Mr. Xi yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”

Niccolo’s warning echoed in my memory:

I think Fausto might have already gotten to your so-called ‘friends’ in the Syndicate.

Lau was doing nothing to dispel my worries.

“You do understand that the situation with my uncle is an emergency, yes?” I asked.

“I understand – but being in the same line of business as Mr. Gota and Mr. Xi, I hope YOU understand that they might not be able to drop everything to accommodate you as quickly as you would like.”

Translation: you’re a gangster. Surely you know that other gangsters have gangster things to do.

“Patience, Mr. Rosolini,” Lau advised me gently. “While I wait on word from Gota and Xi, take the opportunity to enjoy all that Hong Kong has to offer. I’ll send Mr. Han to you this evening so he can take you out again.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“But it is. Unfortunately, I am busy again tonight – but I wish to make sure you’re well taken care of.”

Translation: Lau wanted nothing to do with me. He was going to pawn me off on Han again…

So his subordinate could watch my every move.

“I’ll be fine on my own.”

“I’m sure you would be. But as long as you’re with Mr. Han, you’ll have access to the company helicopter if you wish to return to Macau. Or, if you wish to stay in Hong Kong, he can get you into places that might otherwise be off-limits.”

That stopped me cold in my tracks.

I wondered if Han had told Lau about what had happened at De Sade.

Pff – of course he had.

Or he eventually would, whenever he ended up speaking with his boss.

It was information that Lau could use to gain psychological leverage over me in our negotiations.

I cringed. I didn’t like Lau knowing about my even being at the club, much less my humiliating interaction with Mei-ling…

But I put all that aside.

There was only one thing that truly mattered:

Seeing her again.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know the club’s address.

And Lau seemed to be hinting I wouldn’t be able to get back into De Sade without Han’s help.

Which made sense, considering my previous interaction with the club’s owner.

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind,” I said. “I would be happy to have Mr. Han’s company this evening.”

“Excellent. What time should he arrive at your hotel?”

I paused as a plan began to form in my mind.

“How about 5 o’clock?”

“I’ll tell him to be there promptly at 5. Have a wonderful evening, Mr. Rosolini.”

“Thank you.”

And then I hung up.

I had preparations to make before Han arrived.

I did a bit of research on my cell phone and came up with several possibilities.

I called the hotel’s concierge and explained what I had in mind. He told me that one of the options was far superior to the others and that he could put me in direct contact with the person in charge.

A few minutes later, I was speaking on the phone with the exact person I needed. He proved amenable to what I wanted. After we ironed out the details, I thanked him and hung up.

The stage was set.

Now all I needed was for Mei-ling to say ‘yes.’

That might take some finessing.

I ordered a late lunch from room service: a bowl of char sui, a noodle soup with shrimp and pork. Afterwards, I rested until I felt my hangover recede.

As promised, Han knocked on my door at 5 PM sharp.

He was back to his usual taciturn self. He also looked like I’d felt a couple of hours ago, when the worst of the hangover had abated but was still lingering on the fringes.

“So, what will it be tonight?” he asked in a monotone voice.

“I’d like to go back to De Sade.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “…really.”

“Yes. Is it open this early?”

He smirked. “De Sade is always open.”

20

We entered the club around 5:30 PM.

A different woman was waiting on the other side of the red door, but she still wore a black outfit – this time with thigh-high leather boots.

She started to welcome us, but Han cut her off. “Is Mei-ling here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have her meet us at the bar,” Han said.

The woman nodded and walked off.

“Why does everyone automatically do what you say?” I asked as we made our way to the lounge area.

Han took a second, as if he was coming up with an answer. “We send a lot of business here.”

I wasn’t sure that was the entire answer, but I didn’t really care.

“You should be nicer to the staff,” I rebuked him.

He gave me that dead-eyed look of his. “Why?”

I was about to give him an earful when he looked past me. “Save the lecture. You’ve got company.”

I turned around and had to catch my breath.

Mei-ling was walking towards me. She wore a short emerald green dress that only reached halfway down her thighs, putting her amazing legs on display. Her long, dark hair spilled down her shoulders and back, and her toned arms were bare. Completing the ensemble were silver bracelets and strappy black stilettos.

The only thing about her that wasn’t entrancing was her pissed-off expression.

Before she could speak, I said, “I came to apologize and make a peace offering.”

She stopped in front of me and gave me a cool, appraising look. “A peace offering, hm?”

“Yes. Have you had dinner yet?”

“No.”

“Then I’d like to invite you to dinner.”

“I’m at work, Mr. Rosolini,” she said in a clipped voice.

“I’ll have you back in plenty of time for when the club gets busy. If you go with me, I promise you one of the best meals of your life – not to mention one of the most interesting experiences you’ve ever had.”

“I don’t know,” she said in a deadpan yet playful voice. “I’ve had lots of interesting experiences.”

“Then you’ll have the pleasure of mocking me over what I consider ‘interesting.’ Plus, you can exact any punishment you wish for my wasting your time.”

She raised one eyebrow. “Really.”

I smiled. “Within reason.”

She smirked – then turned her head to one side and looked at me distrustfully from the corner of her eyes. “This strikes me as a very conservative step back from your offer last night.”

“My offer last night was based on what I assumed were the rules of your club. My offer now is what I really want: to spend time with you. To get to know you.”

“And what if I said no?”

“Then I would ask again.”

I could tell she was trying to suppress a smile. “And what if I said ‘no’ again?”

I took the slightest step forward – just enough to enter her personal space but not enough to be overbearing.

“Being told ‘no’ doesn’t bother me. In fact, I actually like being told ‘no.’ It heightens the pleasure when I get what I want.”

She regarded me for what another person might have described as an uncomfortably long time.

Personally, I loved staring into her eyes.

Then the corner of her mouth turned up the tiniest bit. “Ask me again.”

“Say yes,” I said with a smile so mischievous even Niccolo would have been jealous.

“No,” she replied.

“Say yes,” I said in a quieter, more commanding voice.

She held my gaze with playful defiance. “No.”

I stepped forward again – this time so close that I could’ve leaned down to kiss her.

I saw her eyes widen in surprise – plus a flicker of a shadow on her neck that might have been her pulse quickening.

“…say yes,” I said in a deep, seductive voice.

She swayed a little on her heels…

And then she inclined her head and gave a smile. “Alright.”

I grinned, then looked over at Han. He had watched the entire exchange like he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“I need to take the limo,” I told him. “I’ll come find you when I drop her off around 9.”

Han frowned. “I have to come with you.”

“Why don’t you just stay here and drink?” I suggested. “If Mr. Lau asks, tell him we spent the entire evening here at the bar. I’ll back you up.”

Han thought that over for a second, then nodded. “Alright. But be back by nine.”

“Yes, Grandma,” I said.

I took Mei-ling’s arm in mine and guided her away from the bar.

Han made a sour face, then turned back to his glass of whisky.

“What is he, your chaperone?” Mei-ling asked humorously.

“Not for the next three hours, he’s not.”

21

We arrived 20 minutes later at La Giaconda. The name meant ‘the joyful woman’ – and was also the alternate title for the Mona Lisa.

La Giaconda was reportedly the best Italian food in Hong Kong. At least, that was what the concierge at the Continental had told me. The restaurant had two Michelin stars, just one star shy of perfect.

As we exited the limo and walked inside, Mei-ling said, “I’ve been here before. It’s excellent, but I’m not sure this will qualify as one of the most interesting experiences I’ve ever had.”

“We’ll see,” I replied.

“You know what I’m really enjoying?” she asked playfully.

“What?”

“Imagining all the punishments I could inflict on you.”

“Too bad you won’t get to do any of them.”

“We’ll see,” she said with a grin.

I smiled back at her. “Touché.”

“I’m curious, though.”

“About what?”

“You’re Italian, and this is an Italian restaurant.”

“…yes?” I asked, like And…?

“Don’t you want to try something new?”

Translation:

Are you so boring that you only eat Italian food, even when you go abroad?

“I would very much enjoy sampling the local cuisine,” I replied. “But rather than force you to be my tour guide, I thought I might play tour guide for you. If there’s anything I know outside of finance, it’s Italian food and wine… and I thought I might share some of that with you.”

She looked thoughtful, then nodded. “I like that.”

“Good.”

The restaurant lobby was gorgeous, an artistic space filled with ornate wall hangings and mobiles of blown glass baubles dangling from the ceiling.

The maître d’ – an Italian man – smiled at us as we approached. “Good evening, and welcome to La Gioconda. Do you have a reservation?”

“Actually,” I answered in Italian, “I’m the one who spoke with you earlier over the phone – Roberto Rosolini.”

“Ah!” he exclaimed happily, then replied in Italian. “So good to meet you in person, Mr. Rosolini! Right this way.”

As we followed him through the restaurant, Mei-ling whispered, “You speaking Italian doesn’t qualify as the most interesting experience I’ve ever had.”

“Just wait.”

The maître d’ led us past the various tables and straight to the kitchen.

Mei-ling looked confused. “Aren’t we going to – ”

“No,” I said with a smile.

We entered the kitchen, where uniformed chefs hunched over their stations preparing various dishes.

“Chef Silvestri,” the maître d’ said.

A man wearing a pristine white uniform burst into a smile.

“You came!” he said in Italian.

“I did,” I answered in Italian. “Thank you so much for this – I truly appreciate it.”

“And this is the beautiful lady you mentioned?”

“She is, indeed.”

“Lucky devil,” he said enviously.

“Hopefully with your help, I will be.”

He laughed and then bowed slightly to Mei-ling.

“I am Andre Silvestri, head chef and owner,” he said in English. “Welcome to La Giaconda.”

“Thank you.”

“Please – if you will,” he said, motioning behind us.

Two waiters brought tall chairs for us and placed them at the corner of the kitchen island – far enough to be out of the way of the cooks but still in the thick of the action.

“Oh!” Mei-ling said in surprise.

I held her chair for her as she sat, then took the other seat.

Silvestri placed two crystal glasses in front of us and poured a tiny bit of red wine into each. “This is a Barbera del Sannio from Campania. It perfectly complements our first dish of the evening.”

From there, we were off to the races.

A flurry of delights came to us immediately after being plated:

Whipped burrata – a type of light cheese – with garden-fresh beets and strawberries.

Lobster risotto – a creamy rice dish with mascarpone, truffles, and chunks of melt-in-your-mouth lobster.

Coniglio brasato – a tender rabbit steak served on a bed of polenta.

Each dish was paired with unusual wines from all over Italy: Sardinia, Sicily, Umbria.

At one point, Chef Silvestri even took us to a table in the back where we made our own pasta.

After slipping on full-body aprons to protect our clothes, we started with small mounds of freshly milled flour…

Poked holes in the center, creating tiny white volcanos…

And cracked an egg into the hollow.

Then we mixed the egg and flour, kneading it into a soft, moist dough.

“I used to do this every Sunday with my grandmother back in Lombardy,” he told Mei-ling.

“I used to do this with my grandmother when I was five,” I added.

“I have never done this at all,” Mei-ling said, prompting us to laugh.

Chef Silvestri put the dough through a hand-cranked machine, from which emerged strips of velvet-soft pasta. Then we watched the line cooks turn our creation into handmade ravioli filled with fresh cheese and herbs.

Minutes later, after washing our hands in glass bowls of lemon-scented water, we were served the ravioli in a buttery sage sauce and a glass of crisp white wine.

“Alright,” Silvestri said, “you’ll have the main course at a table prepared for you outside – but I hope this was an entertaining little window into my world.”

“It was amazing,” Mei-ling gushed.

“Thank you,” I said in Italian. “The food was delightful.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet!” Silvestri said with a laugh.

22

The waiter seated us at the best table in the restaurant. Moments later, Mei-ling and I were feasting on osso buco – a braised shank of veal that was so tender it nearly fell off the bone. It was one of the most delicious things I’d ever tasted.

“So,” I asked her, “does this qualify as one of the most interesting experiences you’ve ever had?”

She gave me an amused look. “Yes. I have to admit, it does.”

“That’s saying something,” I teased her, “coming from the owner of a BDSM club.”

“Well, that sort of thing becomes commonplace after a while. But I’ve never eaten inside the kitchen of a restaurant before. Are you friends with the chef?”

“No. We’d never met before tonight.”

She stared at me. “What?!”

“In fact, this afternoon was the first time I’d ever spoken to him.”

“Then how the hell did you pull this off?!” She looked at me sideways. “Just a lot of money?”

“No. I take it you noticed he’s particularly interested in wine?”

“I did happen to notice that, yes,” she said with a sardonic smile.

“Well, my family owns an excellent vineyard that produces a very limited number of bottles each year. He’d drunk some of our wine in the past and loved it, so I promised I’d ship him a case of one of our best vintages if he would roll out the red carpet.”

Mei-ling tilted her head to the side as though she was impressed. “Is winemaking the family business?”

“No… it’s more of a side hustle these days.”

I didn’t particularly want to talk about the main way we made our money.

“I’m a little disappointed, though,” she said.

“Oh? About what?”

She gave me a naughty little smile. “You won the bet. Now I don’t get to punish you.”

“Maybe if you play your cards right.”

She burst out laughing.

It was one of the most beautiful sounds I’d ever heard.

“So,” I said, then paused.

“Uh-oh – it sounds like you’re about to broach a serious topic,” she teased.

“It doesn’t have to be. Although, considering how badly I misstepped last time, I wanted to make sure I didn’t do the same thing again.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to proposition me again, are you?”

“NO,” I said vehemently. “Definitely not.”

She smiled, then shrugged. “I was… a little harsh.”

“A little?”

“You deserved it.”

“I did,” I admitted.

She laughed again.

As long as she kept laughing, I could have listened to her all night.

“Alright. What do you want to ask?”

“Well… you’re the owner of a BDSM club.”

“Mm-hmm?”

“And you keep talking about wanting to punish me.”

“You were the one who made it part of the initial agreement,” she pointed out.

“True,” I admitted. “But you seemed rather enthusiastic about it.”

“That was mostly to unnerve you. Did it work?”

“No. It just enticed me.”

“Not the worst outcome, then,” she said flirtatiously.

“So am I correct in assuming you participate in De Sade’s… ‘activities’?”

She smiled slyly before answering.

“On occasion. Not at the club, though. Never at the club. I keep my personal life and work life separate.”

“That’s wise. What is it you like to do, if I might ask?”

“Oh no. For every question you ask, I get to ask one.”

“Fair enough. Go ahead.”

“Are you in the scene?”

“The ‘scene’?” I asked, mystified.

“The BDSM community. I mean, you did come to my club, so…”

I pondered for a few seconds before I answered.

“My interests intersect with the community… but no, I’m not in the ‘scene.’”

“Why not?”

“I have to be extremely discreet.”

“Why?”

“That’s more than one question.”

She smiled seductively. “I’ll let you ask more than one when it’s your turn. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Why do you have to be discreet?”

“My family wouldn’t exactly understand my… specific desires.”

“And what are these ‘specific desires’?”

I stared directly into her eyes. “Control.”

She didn’t look away. “Domination?”

“I guess you could call it that.”

“So you’re a Dom?” she asked.

“I don’t put a name on it.”

“What is it that – ”

“I think it’s my turn to ask the questions.”

She laughed silently, that little motion of her shoulders I found so charming. “All right.”

“Are you a dominatrix?”

“I mean… I’ve done that in the past as part of my job, but it’s not what I enjoy.”

“What do you enjoy?”

She blushed as she stared into my eyes.

“I like being tied up,” she said quietly.

At the sight of her blushing and the whisper in her voice, I was more turned on than I had been in years.

My voice was husky as I said, “Tell me what you – ”

“No,” she interrupted. “I get to ask you a question now.”

I thought about refusing and bending her to my will…

But I was enjoying our little dance too much.

So I said, “Alright.”

“When did you first know? What you like, I mean.”

“When I was 20.”

“What happened?”

I thought about answering her…

About telling her the story of my first experience…

But it felt too soon.

So I playfully looked at my watch instead. “Oh, no – look at the time. I have to get you back to work.”

“NO!” she cried out and laughed at the same time, slapping her hand against my arm.

I shrugged. “What can I do? I promised.”

“You coward!” she said as she continued to laugh.

“Not at all,” I said with a smile. “I’m just not going to tell you that story here.”

“Why not?”

“It’s private. And slightly scandalous. Not for your club, obviously – but for an establishment like this, it’s a bit risqué, and I wouldn’t want it overheard.”

She looked at me sideways. After a long pause, she asked, “Where would you tell me, then?”

“At your place. Over a drink.”

She looked at me for a long moment…

Then said quietly, “Alright.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“Alright, then,” I replied. “I’ll get the check… we’ll go back to your place… and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

She stared at me, her eyes two dark pools of desire. “Okay.”

I signaled to the waiter for the check, then looked back at her. “Don’t you need to call the club to let them know you won’t be back?”

She gave me a mischievous smile. “I’m the boss. I don’t have to let them know anything.”

23

After we said our goodbyes to Chef Silvestri, I had the limo driver take us to Mei-ling’s apartment building in the hills above the city.

The last leg of the trip was along a heavily forested two-lane road. The trees to our left were so thick that they occasionally obscured the lights of Hong Kong below.

Mei-ling told me that she lived in a building called the Summit that sat atop one of the highest peaks in Hong Kong. At 65 stories, it soared above the rest of the city. The only taller building was Highcliff, another residential tower a few hundred feet from the Summit. Because of the buildings’ thin widths relative to their height, locals had dubbed them ‘the Chopsticks.’

As soon as we emerged from the forest and saw them in the distance, I understood the nickname. The towers looked like two glass rods jutting up into the sky.

The driver parked the limo in front of the Summit and got out to open Mei-ling’s door. I exited the other side and walked around the vehicle.

As I took Mei-ling’s arm, the driver asked me, “Should I wait?”

“No, go back to De Sade and get Mr. Han.”

“And then what should I do?”

“Forget where you took me.”

“Well, that’s presumptuous,” Mei-ling said humorously.

I turned to look at her. “What is?”

“Telling him to leave.” She arched one eyebrow and smiled. “Who said you were staying that long?”

“So you’re saying I should have him wait for me?”

She smirked. “I’ll leave that up to you.”

I sensed a trap again – although this time, it seemed playful.

I turned back to the limo driver. “On second thought, wait here. If I don’t return in two hours, go get Mr. Han.”

I slipped the driver a 1000 Hong Kong dollar bill – worth about $250 US – and he bowed slightly. “Thank you, sir.”

As the driver got back in the limo, I walked off arm-in-arm with Mei-ling.

She led me into the luxurious lobby of the building, past a guard sitting behind a desk, and into one of the elevators. She had to hold a key fob against a security panel for the doors to close.

We got off at the 57th floor and walked down the hall to her apartment.

The place was opulent. The living room had a 20-foot-tall ceiling, with a second level accessible via a wide staircase. Gorgeous parquet floors gleamed a polished brown. A white sofa sat in front of a two-story window looking out over the lights of Hong Kong. Atop an onyx coffee table, a glass vase held a branch of delicate purple orchids.

She led me to a beautiful kitchen with a black island and several tall chairs.

As I took a seat, she went to a nearby bar and poured herself a glass of red wine. “Wine, or something harder?”

“Scotch if you have it.”

“Ice?”

“No, neat.”

She poured a glass of amber liquid and placed it in front of me.

Then she sat down opposite me and said, “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“I want to hear the story you wouldn’t tell me in the restaurant.”

“Mm.” I took a sip of the scotch, then stared deep into her eyes. “How much do you want to know?”

“All of it.”

“You don’t mind hearing the details?”

She frowned as though she didn’t understand.

“If you told me about the first guy who got to sleep with you,” I explained, “I think I might go mad with jealousy.”

She smirked and shook her head ruefully. “Men.”

I chuckled. “Italian men in particular.”

She perched her chin atop her hand in a coquettish way. “I think I can restrain myself. Tell me your story.”

“Alright.”

I took another sip of scotch and began my tale.

24

“Iwas 20 years old and still a virgin. I was shy and withdrawn – a late bloomer. I didn’t really connect with girls my own age.

“My brother Adriano was only a year older than me, but he had worlds more experience. He’d lost his virginity when he was 14, and by 21, he’d been with a lot of women.

“He got it into his head that he was going to ‘help’ me by taking me to a brothel in Florence. My oldest brother, Dario, didn’t know anything about it, or he probably would have stopped us. I told my twin brother Niccolo – ”

“You have a twin?” Mei-ling asked in surprise.

“I do. We’re fraternal twins, not identical.”

“Is he a lot like you?”

“In appearance, yes. In everything else, not at all.”

“Sorry for interrupting. Please continue.”

“I told Niccolo, but he was no help at all. He’d already slept with his first girlfriend when he was 16, and he’d been with several others since then. He advised me to go ahead and ‘get it over with.’ So I went with Adriano to the place he knew about.”

I didn’t mention that the brothel was run by the Agrellas – business partners of my family who ran all the prostitution, gambling, and drugs in Florence.

I also didn’t mention that the Agrellas had been massacred just a month ago by a Sicilian named Mezzasalma who had tried to kill Adriano, too.

“The brothel was in this ancient building in the old part of the city. From the outside, it looked like something you’d see on an architectural tour. Very dignified. On the inside, though, it was all velvet wall hangings and tacky paintings.

“Anyway, Adriano and I went to the bar and had a drink as I tried to get over my nervousness.

“One by one, women came up to us, all of them dressed in lingerie. They tried flirting with Adriano first, but he kept pointing at me and saying, ‘We’re here for him.’

“They tried to flirt with me, but I was spectacularly bad at it. Very awkward. After a few minutes, one girl left, another walked up, and the whole process started over again. It was excruciating.

“Half an hour after we’d arrived, the madam took me and Adriano into a parlor where all the girls came out and stood in a line.

“The madam asked, ‘Which one do you like the most?’

“And I said, ‘I’m good.’

“‘You’re ‘good’?’ the madam asked, confused.

“‘I’m good,’ I confirmed.

“All the girls shuffled out, and Adriano was pissed. ‘I brought you all the way out here, and you’re not even going to sleep with any of them?! What the hell is wrong with you?!’

“He told me not to leave the brothel till I’d popped my cherry, and then he stormed out – because, as he informed me, he didn’t have to pay for sex. Unlike me.

“I went back to the bar for another drink. I was miserable. I felt like an utter and complete failure.

“As I was sitting there, I saw a woman sitting at a table at the far end of the room, smoking and having a drink all by herself.

“She wasn’t one of the girls who had come up to me earlier, and she wasn’t in the line-up, either. She was wearing lingerie, so she obviously worked there, but I hadn’t seen her before.

“She looked over at me and smiled shyly, then looked away.

“I was intrigued, so I walked over to her table and asked, ‘May I join you?’

“She smiled and said, ‘Yes,’ so I sat down.

“‘Roberto,’ I said as I shook her hand.

“‘Vittoria,’ she replied.

“She was older than the other women, who were all in their early to mid-20’s. Vittoria looked like she was 30, maybe older. She wasn’t quite as pretty as the others, but something about her drew me in.

“‘I didn’t see you before,’ I said.

“She smiled. ‘I know.’

“‘Why not? Were you with a customer?’

“‘No.’

“‘So why didn’t I see you?’

“‘I saw how uncomfortable all the other girls were making you. I didn’t want to be like them, so I hung back.’

“‘I wasn’t uncomfortable,’ I lied.

“She just smiled and said ‘Oh’ like she was agreeing with me.

“‘What makes you think I was uncomfortable?’ I asked.”

I added as an aside to Mei-ling, “Other than the fact I was so uncomfortable that a blind man could have spotted it.”

Mei-ling smiled but stayed silent, waiting to hear the rest.

“I’ll never forget her response. She looked me in the eyes and said, ‘Whatever you’re looking for, the other girls didn’t have it, and you felt bad about telling them they didn’t interest you.’

“Which was a very charitable way of describing it – but it was true. The girls had all been very pretty, but I wasn’t attracted to any of them. Not to mention, I was under an enormous amount of pressure from Adriano. I felt like I HAD to choose one of them, and I hated the entire situation.

“I asked Vittoria as though I was challenging her, ‘So what am I looking for?’

“And she said, ‘I don’t know, exactly… but what I do know is, for something to interest you, you have to go and take it.’

“I didn’t fully understand what she meant at the time, but what she said felt right. All those women had come up to me, pressuring me to choose them… offering themselves up on a silver platter… and it made me not want them. It was too easy. It was fake.

“I knew I wanted Vittoria… but I didn’t know why, exactly.

“She asked me, ‘Do you know what you want?’

“I sat there staring at her, wanting to say it out loud, but I was too shy. I was blushing so hard that my cheeks felt like they were on fire.

“She smiled at me and whispered, ‘You can say it.’

“And I blurted out, ‘I want to make you come.’”

Mei-ling reared back in surprise, then started laughing.

“I know,” I said with a smile. “But Vittoria didn’t laugh. She just said, ‘That sounds wonderful.’

“And I said, ‘But I don’t know how.’

“And she replied, ‘You want to make me come… but not knowing how makes you feel embarrassed. Is that it?’

“I nodded. I still remember it – my face felt like it was on fire, I was so ashamed – but I was also incredibly turned on.

“She took my hand in hers and asked quietly, ‘Do you want me to show you how to make a woman come?’

“I nodded. ‘But I don’t want you to lie. I don’t want you to fake it.’

“She smiled and said, ‘Don’t worry, I won’t. But it might take a while.’

“‘I’ve got all night.’

“‘So do I,’ she answered.

“She stood up and tried to pull me along with her, but I said, ‘Not here. I don’t want to do it here.’

“She looked at me for a long while, like she was trying to decide whether or not to trust me… and then she finally said, ‘I can take you to where I live… but I have to warn you, it’s not that great.’

“‘I don’t care,’ I told her. ‘Just as long as it’s anywhere but here.’

“She nodded, and then we left and went to her place.”

Mei-ling stared at me intently, waiting.

I just smiled at her in silence.

When I didn’t say anything, Mei-ling prodded me with, “…AND?!”

“And she taught me everything I know.”

“Oh my GOD – you’re not going to tell me?!” she cried out, half-laughing, half-indignant.

“Nope.”

“You tease!”

“Just a little,” I said with a grin. “But I will do something for you.”

“What?” she asked, pouting playfully.

“I’ll show you.”

Mei-ling stared at me, her eyes wide.

For a second, I thought perhaps I’d overstepped –

And then she whispered, “…alright.”

I smiled. “Alright, then.”

I extended my hand…

She placed hers in mine…

And then she led me out of the kitchen.

25

Her bedroom was beautiful: hardwood floors, a wooden four-poster bed, and a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the harbor.

The room was already dark. As soon as we entered, she struck a match, lit three candles on a dresser, and closed the door.

We stood there in the flickering shadows as a faint hint of vanilla began to paint the air, mixing with the delicate floral scent of her perfume.

“Well?” she said, tilting her head coyly to the side. “As I recall, you were going to show me everything you learned about pleasing a woman.”

“And as I recall, you said you liked to be tied up.”

Her face went blank and her body tensed.

I gestured to the four-poster bedframe. “Don’t tell me you have that and don’t use it.”

“I…” she started, then trailed off.

“You have to trust me before you’re willing to do that,” I said softly.

She hesitated, then nodded.

“Surely you have some scarves we could tie to the posts and wrap around your wrists without knotting them. That way, you could get out whenever you want.”

She hesitated again –

But I could tell by her expression that I’d guessed correctly.

“Get them,” I said in a gentle but commanding voice.

She walked over to the dresser and opened a drawer. Then she pulled out a pile of neatly folded scarves and put them on the bed’s white comforter.

I picked up a scarf. In the dim light of the candles, the color was deep burgundy.

I rubbed the cloth between my fingers. It felt like silk – luxurious and sensual.

I held on to one edge of the scarf and let the rest fall to the floor, unrolling in a cascade of cloth. It looked to be about ten feet long – just right for what we needed.

I noticed that the cloth was a bit frayed here and there, probably from years of use. No matter; it would do just fine.

Without a word, I walked over to the headboard and tied one end of the scarf around the left post. Then I retrieved a second scarf and did the same on the right side.

I gestured for Mei-ling to get up on the mattress.

She seemed caught between desire and fear.

“You haven’t even kissed me yet,” she said, jokingly chiding me.

“I will when the time’s right. Now get on the bed.”

The mattress was so tall she had to hop up to perch on the edge.

But she just stayed there, sitting with one leg crossed over the other.

She looked absolutely lovely…

But I couldn’t do anything with her like that.

“Not far enough,” I said.

I picked her up, putting one arm under the crook of her knees and my other arm behind the small of her back.

She gasped as I lifted her body –

And threw her.

She shrieked and giggled as she landed further up the mattress.

I walked around to the left side of the bed and picked up the loose end of the scarf.

“Well, that was a bit forward,” she said, both playful and indignant.

I smiled in amusement.

“We’re well past the point of my being a ‘bit’ forward,” I said as I wrapped the scarf around her forearm, looping it again and again.

But I didn’t tie a knot.

I noticed a hitch in her breathing as the cloth circled her bare skin five, six, seven times.

Then I walked to the other side of the bed and repeated the process.

Now both her arms were bound by the scarves tied to the posts –

But she could have easily gotten free just by moving her arms and unwrapping them.

I walked to the foot of the bed and looked down at her impassively.

She stared up at me, eyes wide.

I reached down, gently grasped her ankles –

And pulled her hard and fast towards me.

She cried out in surprise.

In a split second, her ass was near the edge of the bed –

The hem of her dress was bunched up at the top of her thighs –

And her legs were hanging off the bed on either side of my body.

However, her arms were angled up in the air, pulled by the scarves. The soft material stretched tight between her wrists and the posts.

Again, she could have easily gotten out of the bindings with just a few twists of her arms –

But she didn’t.

Instead, she looked at me, waiting to see what I would do next.

A brute would have immediately unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock, and fucked her right then and there.

And to tell the truth, I was tempted. My cock was hard as a steel pipe.

But I wasn’t a brute…

And fucking her wasn’t what I had in mind.

Not yet.

As I stared into the depths of her eyes, I began to softly caress her thighs.

Her skin was as soft as the scarves.

Her breathing quickened, and I saw the flutter of her pulse in her neck.

She never looked away from my gaze…

And she kept her arms wrapped tightly in their bindings.

I began to move my fingers further up her thighs…

Past the hem of her bunched-up dress…

Towards the heat between her legs.

I softly caressed her skin until my fingers reached the lace of her underwear.

Still gazing deep into her eyes, I traced my fingertips over the front of her panties.

She was wet. I could feel it through the thin material.

Then, very gently, I pulled the lace to the side.

She breathed in sharply, maybe in surprise – but she never broke eye contact with me, and she didn’t tell me to stop.

I gently glided my fingertip across her pussy.

Everything was bare and soft; she had either waxed or shaved very recently.

Her lips were also very, very wet.

I couldn’t see what I was doing, but I didn’t need to.

I slowly traced my fingers over the wet skin of her cleft, gently moving upwards…

Until I found her clit.

I softly stroked the hood with the gentlest of touches.

For the first time, she broke eye contact as her eyes rolled back in her head.

“Look at me,” I whispered.

She forced herself to gaze deep into my eyes.

In the dim light of the candles, her pupils were dilated, the black nearly obscuring her brown irises.

I gently caressed her hood, spreading her wetness, circling her – but never directly touching her clit.

Mei-ling’s breathing grew shallower.

Then I did something Vittoria had taught me. Not during the first night I spent with her, but months later.

With my left thumb and forefinger, I gently pulled back the hood, which exposed her clit.

Again, I couldn’t see any of this –

But feeling with my fingers was as good as seeing.

Then, with the tip of my right index finger, I brushed against her clit with just a whisper of a touch.

In truth, I probably didn’t even connect skin to skin. More like I brushed Mei-ling’s own wetness across her clit.

She gasped.

I’d learned from Vittoria that many women’s clits are so sensitive that you have to touch around them instead of directly – at least until the woman is almost overwhelmed with desire. Only then can she stand direct touch.

That is, unless you are exceedingly gentle.

And I had learned to be exceedingly gentle.

I caressed Mei-ling’s clit so lightly that it was a mere ghost of a caress.

But I kept doing it…

Stroking her…

Gently…

Rhythmically…

Over and over.

Mei-ling’s breasts heaved beneath her dress.

I ached to rip her clothes off, to fondle her, to grasp her –

But I controlled myself…

And kept caressing her, never stopping.

The scent of her sex began to fill the air: a sweet muskiness that mixed beautifully with the vanilla of the candles and the floral notes of her perfume.

Something else I had learned from Vittoria many years ago:

An incredibly soft upward stroke on the clitoris, towards the woman’s belly, gives her a feeling of light-headed pleasure like her head’s in the clouds…

While a downward stroke of the clitoris, towards her toes, feels earthy and full – ‘like the first time his cock slides inside you,’ as Vittoria had explained it.

So I gently stroked upwards on Mei-ling, making her feel like she was dissolving into the ether –

Three, four, five, six…

“…ah… ah… ah… ah…” she whimpered, making soft noises with every caress.

Then I stroked down once, still soft but firmer.

“UNH,” she grunted, her eyes rolling back in her head.

“Look at me,” I said, gentle but commanding.

She struggled to focus on my eyes, but she did it.

I kept softly stroking up, just a whisper of a touch…

“…ah… ah… ah… ah…”

And every so often, I would stroke down – firmer, harder.

She moaned every time I did it.

“FUCK…”

“OH GOD…”

The best was when she cried out in Chinese.

And whenever her eyes rolled back in her head, I quietly but firmly ordered her to look at me again.

I had no idea how long we went on like that.

Time had no meaning.

We entered a hypnotic trance as we stared into each other’s eyes.

There was only the flickering candlelight…

Her wetness…

The gentle feel of her beneath my fingertip…

The smell of her sex…

The darkness of her eyes…

The sounds of her whimpers… ah… ah… ah… ah…

And her groans of pleasure.

Her wetness increased. Her pussy was fairly dripping with nectar until the comforter beneath her ass was soaked.

Likewise, a light sheen of sweat glistened on her face. Heat rolled off her skin in waves.

Her body writhed on the bed; her arms strained against the scarves so much I was surprised she didn’t rip them in half.

She would arch her back or grind her hips, trying to press her clit more firmly against my finger –

But I would back off, still maintaining that whisper of a touch.

I knew what she was doing.

She was trying to come.

But I wouldn’t let her.

I had her poised right on the edge of orgasm, and that was where I was going to keep her…

Until she begged.

Finally, she’d had enough.

“Please,” she moaned. “Please…”

“Please, what?” I whispered as I continued to stroke her gently.

“Fuck me…”

“No,” I said. “Not yet.”

She stared at me like I was insane.

All the while, I kept stroking her softly, making her pant and wince with pleasure.

“What do you want?” I asked, knowing the answer but wanting her to say it aloud.

“I…”

“What do you want?” I repeated in a low growl.

“I want to come,” she moaned. “I NEED to come!”

“Alright. I’ll let you come… but only if you do what I say. Do you agree?”

She nodded vigorously. “Yes – yes! Anything!”

“Alright – but don’t come until I tell you to. Agreed?”

“Okay, yes, okay!” she moaned.

“Look at me the whole time.”

She struggled to maintain eye contact, but she did it.

“Don’t come,” I ordered again.

“I won’t,” she moaned.

Without warning, I began to circle my fingertip, touching her hood, wetly caressing all around her clit.

It would have been enough to tip most women over the edge –

And it was almost too much for Mei-ling.

“OH!” she cried out, and her body began to tremble.

“DON’T COME,” I barked.

She gritted her teeth and nodded, and she managed not to climax.

I began stroking her clit firmer –

Still soft, but harder.

“DON’T COME,” I ordered.

“OH GOD!” she screamed.

Her entire body tensed.

I could hear the scarves creak as she strained against them –

But she managed not to come as she looked deep into my eyes.

I could see that she would lose control any second –

So I relented.

I rubbed soft but hard against her clit – a firm, downward stroke.

At the same time, I slipped two fingers inside her soaking wet pussy, giving her a sensation of fullness –

And whispered, “Come for me.”

For a split second, I saw her eyes as she climaxed –

Before she threw her head back and arched up off the mattress, screaming bloody murder.

I felt her pussy tighten around my fingers, pulsing with the contractions of her orgasm.

I gently circled my fingertip around her clit as she continued to come.

Ten seconds… twenty seconds… thirty…

She kept going.

Finally, her screams became moans.

I caressed her slower and slower, as her orgasm began to tail off…

And then gently withdrew my fingers.

I touched them to my tongue and tasted her.

She was sweet and musky all at once, like honey with a hint of smoke.

She collapsed back onto the bed, her body trembling, her legs shaking uncontrollably.

I slowly rubbed her thighs, more of a sensual massage than a sexual touch, until she stopped quivering.

I walked around the side of the bed and unlooped the scarf from her right arm…

Then walked around and did the same with the left.

She lay on the bed looking up at me, her hair tousled and face flushed. “Oh… my GOD.”

I smiled with the pride of a job well done.

She wouldn’t forget tonight – not for the rest of her life.

“So… what happens next?” she purred.

I looked at my watch. “My driver’s only here for another 10 minutes, so I better go.”

Then I turned and headed towards the door.

“WHAT?!” she cried out.

“I wouldn’t want to be presumptuous about staying too long,” I said over my shoulder.

Then I walked out.

26

Ihad to stop myself from laughing as I heard her heels clacking on the hardwood floor behind me.

“You fucking ASSHOLE!” she shouted as she came up behind me –

At which point I turned, wrapped my arms around her, leaned her backwards as I swept her off her feet –

And kissed her.

There was a brief second where she tensed – probably out of shock –

And then she looped her arms around my neck and kissed me back passionately.

Her mouth was soft and warm. She tasted sweet, almost like peaches.

We kissed for almost 30 seconds, then I hoisted her back to her feet.

“You planned that,” she scolded me.

I laughed, then planted a smaller kiss on her lips.

She stood up on her tiptoes to kiss me back.

When I pulled away, I said, “I want to see you again tomorrow night. Are you free?”

She glared at me. “You know, I should figure out some clever way to manipulate you like you just did to me.”

I looped my arms around her waist and pulled her against me.

I’m sure she felt how hard my cock was against her body because her jaw dropped.

“Oh…” she whispered…

Then rubbed my erection through the front of my pants.

“Don’t you want to do something about this?” she asked in a sultry voice.

I grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away. “Tomorrow. Are you free?”

She pouted and said, “No, I have to work.”

“Take the night off.”

She tried to suppress a smile. “No.”

“Take the night off,” I ordered.

She looked up at me and grinned like a bratty teenager. “No.”

I gripped her ass in my hands and pulled her hard against my body, pressing my stiff cock against her. “Take the night off.”

She gasped, then looked from my eyes to my lips and back again. “…okay.”

I smiled. “I’ll be here at six. If you want, we can go out to dinner or – ”

“I’ll make something so we can stay in,” she said breathily.

“Sounds good,” I whispered, then kissed her again for nearly a minute.

I finally broke it off and pulled her along by her hand to the front door. After opening it, I looked down at her. “See you tomorrow night at six.”

We kissed one more time, and I walked out into the hallway.

As she closed the door, the last thing I saw was her eyes staring out at me… and a tiny smile on her lips.

27

After the limo driver dropped me off at my hotel, I told him to return to De Sade to pick up Han.

I was so excited that it took me nearly five hours to fall asleep.

However, I decided not to rely on alcohol to knock me out. I wanted to be sharp and focused the next evening with Mei-ling, and wasting my day with a hangover wouldn’t help.

I also didn’t masturbate, no matter how great the temptation.

When I came, I wanted it to be inside her.

I woke the next morning to a knock on my door. When I stumbled to the door in a robe, the bellman apologized for waking me. He had my dry-cleaned suit, the one I’d worn on the plane to Hong Kong.

I thanked him, took the plastic-wrapped clothes, and gave him my other suit to be dry-cleaned and pressed. I also grabbed my wallet and gave him an excellent tip.

After he was gone, I went back into the suite and did my exercises: 100 pushups, 200 crunches, and 20 minutes of calisthenics. Then I took a cold shower, shaved, and dressed.

After a breakfast delivered by room service, I called Lau.

Still no news on Xi, Gota, and the meeting.

To be honest, I couldn’t have cared less. I had other things on my mind.

Actually, I only had one person on my mind – and she was enough to occupy all my thoughts.

I called the concierge and explained what I needed; he gave me an address. When I asked if he could call me a taxi, he told me he would have one of the hotel’s chauffeured town cars waiting for me downstairs.

The car was a Cadillac and quite nice. The driver sped me through the streets of Hong Kong, and 25 minutes later we arrived at a silk emporium – a fabric store that only dealt in the finest-quality silks.

The saleswoman helped me make my selections. Once I paid, she wrapped everything up in a box with a beautiful bow, and I returned via the town car to the hotel.

I ordered room service for lunch. After I ate, I paced in my room out of boredom.

Since I had thought I would only be in Hong Kong for 24 hours, I hadn’t brought a laptop, so I couldn’t do any work.

Instead, I decided to watch a movie on the penthouse’s 80-inch television: The Big Short, a film about the 2008 global financial crisis.

I’d already seen it three dozen times. For me, it was the cinematic equivalent of comfort food.

I’m a finance nerd. Sue me.

Italy was six hours behind Hong Kong, and I didn’t want to wake Niccolo too early, so I waited until three o’clock to call him.

“Any news?” he asked as soon as he answered.

“Not about Lau,” I replied. I didn’t want to tell him about Mei-ling, so I quickly moved on. “How was your flight back home?”

“Fine. Long, but fine.”

“How’s Massimo?”

“Presumably still hiding out with the Widow’s granddaughter. I haven’t heard from him.”

“What about the bankers who helped Fausto embezzle from us? Have you looked into them yet?”

“About that,” Niccolo said grimly. “Guess what I found out when I called the first bank on your list.”

“What?”

“Luca Stefanelli, the man who approved the transfer, took a swan dive off a ten-story building just a few hours after it went through. He left a suicide note – printed out from a computer with no signature.”

I blinked in shock, then sighed wearily. “Fausto.”

“Yes. It was the same with every other person on your list. One got hit by a bus, one was found dead by carbon monoxide poisoning in her running car, another overdosed on prescription pills – all within 12 hours of the wire transfers.”

“Goddamn it.”

“My sentiments exactly. I’m guessing our dear uncle threatened their spouses and children to get them to comply, then killed them before they could have a change of heart and rat him out.”

My stomach churned with nausea.

Fausto had them murdered after they’d complied with his demands. And they’d probably only cooperated in the first place to save the lives of their families.

We really were at war with the devil.

“Speaking of Fausto, anything new?”

“No. Lars has us on lockdown, though. Everybody’s holed up in rooms with no windows, 24 hours a day.”

“Good.”

“Good?!”

“I want all of you to be safe.”

“Yes, well, at THIS rate, Fausto won’t need assassins to kill us – boredom will do the job. I know you didn’t call me just to chat, so what’s up?”

“I need you to overnight a case of our 2008 Brunello di Montalcino to the address I’m about to text you.”

I had to pay my debt to Chef Silvestri. After all, he had been an integral part of what had turned out to be an unforgettable night.

After the sobering news about the people Fausto had killed, though, most of the joy had gone out of my little gesture.

“What?!” Niccolo exclaimed. “That’s expensive wine, isn’t it?!”

“Somewhat.”

‘Somewhat’ was an understatement. A case was 12 bottles, and each bottle went for over a thousand euros on the open market. Restaurants often sold them for 2000 or more.

“What the fuck are you doing over there?!”

“Just have the winery overnight it, alright?”

“Sure, sure,” he said sarcastically. “Not like I have anything ELSE to do, like avoid attempts on my life.”

“Fausto didn’t make an attempt on your life, just Dario and Massimo’s,” I pointed out. “Plus, you said you were going to die of boredom. This’ll give you something to – ”

“Just text me the fucking address.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he grumbled, then grew softer. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will. You too.”

“Alright. Talk to you later.”

After texting Silvestri’s name and the restaurant’s address to Niccolo, I watched a second movie on demand: Margin Call, another film about the 2008 financial crisis. More cinematic comfort food.

I liked movies about finance, and there weren’t that many, so I was stuck watching the same ones repeatedly.

I didn’t mind.

By five o’clock, I was almost ready to go when I heard a knock on my door. I opened it to see Han standing there, smirking at me like You sly dog.

“You sent the car back to De Sade a lot later than I expected,” he said as he breezed past me into the room.

“Come in,” I said sardonically.

He ignored my tone and began to fix himself a drink at the mini bar. “And you didn’t bring Mei-ling back to work, either. So – you get lucky?”

“That’s none of your business. But no, I did not.”

Technically, I hadn’t.

Mei-ling had…

And I felt extraordinarily fortunate that the evening had gone the way it did…

But I didn’t want to tell Han any of that, so I kept to my little white lie.

“What the hell did you do all that time?” he asked, surprised.

“Again, none of your business. But we talked.”

“Oh,” he said, sounding disappointed. He took a sip of whiskey and said, “Well, what do you want to do tonight?”

“I have other plans.”

He raised both eyebrows. “Really.”

“Yes.”

He spied the box with the bow and smirked in surprise and contempt. “What, you’re going to bring her a gift?!”

His general attitude conveyed that he thought I was a moron. Real men fucked women; they didn’t bring them gifts. Especially if they hadn’t gotten laid the night before.

“Yes. So you can go do whatever you want on your own.”

“I can drop you at her place,” he offered.

“I’ve made other arrangements.”

That was the truth. The concierge already had the town car waiting for me.

Han’s face darkened the slightest bit. “Mr. Lau wanted me to entertain you for the evening.”

“Tell Mr. Lau thank you, but that I’ve found entertainment elsewhere.”

Han drained his whiskey and put the empty glass back on the bar.

“Better luck tonight,” he said as he walked out the door.

Asshole.

28

The town car dropped me at Mei-ling’s apartment building at 6 PM sharp. I told the driver to go back to the hotel and that I would call a cab when I left.

As I walked into the lobby, the guard nodded at me from behind his desk. “Ms. Chan said you would be coming.”

He had me sign in, then walked over to the elevator and scanned his key fob so I could go up to the 57th floor.

When Mei-ling opened her apartment door, she smiled shyly. “Hello.”

My reply was to sweep her into my arms and kiss her.

She yielded completely, opening her mouth to mine.

After 30 seconds, I finally pulled away.

“You look beautiful,” I said – because it was the truth. She was wearing a dark blue dress that hugged her curves, and her hair was arranged in an elegant updo.

“Thank you. What’s this?” she asked, tapping the box I was carrying in my left hand.

“A gift. For later.”

“Ohhh,” she said with a playful smile. “I can’t wait. Please, come in.”

She led me to the kitchen with her hand in mine. I laid the box on the kitchen island and sat on one of the bar chairs.

“I have a confession to make: I’m a terrible cook,” she said with a laugh. “I can make eggs and boil pasta, and that’s about it – so I had something delivered before you got here.”

“Fine by me.”

She laid out a selection of foods:

Dim sum in bamboo steamer containers…

Roast goose with crispy skin and pink, succulent meat…

Sauteed bok choy…

And bowls of wonton noodles with shrimp and pork dumplings.

Everything was excellent. We drank white wine with our food as we chatted about De Sade, Hong Kong, and life back in Italy.

Once we’d finished eating, she brushed one finger over the box. “Do I get to open it now?”

“Sure.”

She untied the bow, lifted the top – and gasped. She ran one of the silk scarves through her fingers and looked up at me with a radiant smile. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I noticed there was some slight wear-and-tear on what we used last night. I hope I’m not overstepping.”

“Not at all,” she said, then blushed the tiniest bit. “Um… about last night…”

“Uh-oh,” I said playfully.

“No, it’s not anything bad. It’s just that before I do something like that, I usually have a specific conversation beforehand.”

“What kind of conversation?” I asked, not quite understanding.

“About consent and boundaries. It’s standard practice in the BDSM community. At least, amongst those who practice responsibly.”

“Is there something about last night you didn’t like?”

“No – it was wonderful,” she said, and blushed again. “But I’d like to make sure we keep it wonderful.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Great.”

“So, how do we proceed?”

“I’ll ask you a series of questions. You’ll tell me if you’re interested in doing certain things, and I’ll tell you if I’m interested. Once we say ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ there’s no pressuring the other person to change their answer – and no shaming them if they give a response the other person doesn’t like. The purpose is to see what we each want and are comfortable with.”

“Alright. Ask away.”

“Bondage.”

“With you as the recipient?” I clarified.

“Yes.”

I smiled. “Very interested.”

She smiled back. “Same here. What about me tying you up?”

“No.”

“Alright.”

She went down a checklist of various things: blindfolds. Chains. Collars. Handcuffs. Gags. Leashes.

“Stocks,” she said.

“I assume you’re not talking about the kind listed on the New York Stock Exchange,” I joked.

“No,” she said with a tight smile as though trying to suppress an eye-roll.

I actually knew what stocks were (restraining devices for the feet, often used in medieval times), but I was less familiar with some of the other devices she mentioned, like spreader bars.

I’d never done most of the things she listed, though I was willing to try them as long as she was the sole recipient.

Mei-ling was enthusiastic about penetration, which was good. I wasn’t sure if I could hold off again like I did the previous night.

“I enjoy incorporating sex toys,” she said at one point. “Dildos and vibrators, in particular.”

“Fine,” I said.

She seemed a bit surprised at my response, but pleasantly so.

What I didn’t tell her was that Vittoria had used sex toys before we got involved, and we had incorporated them into our sex life at her request. I wasn’t threatened by them in the slightest.

“Choking,” she said.

“No,” I answered.

“I meant you choking me,” she said.

“I know what you meant. Still no.”

When she gave me a slightly surprised look, I said, “There have been a number of medical studies that show even a slight interruption of blood to the brain can cause long-term levels of increased depression and anxiety in the person being choked. Plus, it’s incredibly dangerous and can result in brain damage if you go too far – and it’s difficult to know what ‘too far’ is until you’re already past the threshold.”

“You really are an accountant, aren’t you?” she asked in amusement.

I gave her a playfully reproachful look. I knew she didn’t mean ‘accountant’ as a compliment. “I thought there wasn’t going to be any shaming involved.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I apologize.”

“Apology accepted. Besides, if it’s euphoria you’re after, I think we can find other ways for you to reach it.”

“Mm, I like the sound of that. How about pegging?”

I raised one eyebrow. “That’s where you use a strap-on on me, right?”

“Correct.”

“NO.”

She smirked. “I figured.”

After a few more questions, she asked, “What about you? What do you want? Fellatio?”

“That would be nice, but it’s not mandatory.”

“What is mandatory?”

“Nothing, per se – but I would prefer to have sex without a condom.”

She looked alarmed. “No.”

“I’ve been tested since my last partner. I’m clean.”

“No.”

“Have you been tested? And are you on birth control?”

“Yes to both, not that it changes anything,” she said, annoyed. “Maybe you don’t remember, but whether a person says ‘yes’ or ‘no’ in this conversation, it’s non-negotiable.”

“Maybe you don’t remember, but I like to ask three times,” I teased. “And I don’t like being told ‘no’ a fourth.”

“Then don’t ask a fourth.”

I smiled in amusement. I knew a losing battle when I saw one. “What about anal intercourse?”

“Mm.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“‘No’ at first. We’ll see in the future.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I do, but it has to be done very carefully and very slowly.”

“I’m nothing if not careful. And I think I proved last night that I can take things slow.”

She looked at me from the corner of her eyes in playful distrust. “Anything else?”

“Yes. I like to… how should I put it… ‘push the envelope.’”

“Meaning?”

“I like to take without asking.”

Mei-ling swallowed hard. I couldn’t tell if it was because she was turned on, or if there was a bit of distress in her reaction.

“So… consensual non-consent,” she suggested.

“I haven’t heard it put it that way before, but it sounds accurate.”

She bit her lower lip, which I found incredibly sexy.

“There’s a way to gauge your partner’s comfort level in a scene,” she said. “There are – ”

“‘Scene’?”

“That’s the term for the physical place that BDSM activity occurs, as well as the acts the participants engage in.”

“Ah. Go on.”

“So, a person’s comfort level can be described using three colors. Green means that the person is fine and the scene can continue. Yellow means that the person is slightly uncomfortable but doesn’t necessarily want to stop – just that the partner should slow down and be mindful. And red means complete discomfort and an immediate full stop.”

“Okay,” I said.

“You should check in periodically with your partner, especially if you’re entering unfamiliar territory.”

“So how does that apply to consensual non-consent?”

Mei-ling took a deep breath as though psyching herself up. “I’ll agree to you… ‘taking’ without asking… on the condition that you check in every so often. And if I say ‘red,’ you immediately stop whatever you’re doing.”

“Alright,” I agreed. “I also have a time-honored system from Italy that I’d like to suggest. It might be a bit quicker than your three colors.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

I took her right wrist in my left hand. “If there’s something I’m doing that you don’t like…”

I lightly touched her breast with my right hand.

“…just do this…”

I forced her hand to slap my wrist with a light thwap!

“…and I’ll stop.”

I immediately withdrew the hand she’d slapped.

She laughed. “Time-honored system from Italy, huh?”

“Yes,” I said with a grin.

“Somehow, I imagine it’s regularly violated by Italian males.”

“Not by me.”

She laughed again, then took my hand in hers and pressed it back against her breast.

“Is this what I do if I want you to do something?” she asked in an alluring, teasing voice.

As I felt the softness of her curves, my cock immediately sprang to attention.

“That works just fine,” I growled.

“In the time-honored Italian system.”

“In the time-honored Italian system,” I agreed, and leaned in to kiss her.

She opened her mouth to me, and I hungrily groped her breast as we kissed.

She pulled away.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” she whispered.

I nodded.

She grabbed the box of silks I’d brought her…

And then took me by the hand and eagerly pulled me out of the kitchen.

29

Once we reached the bedroom, she lit the candles again.

We kissed for a moment…

Then I stepped back so I could undress her.

I slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders…

And stared as the material pulled away from her bare breasts.

They were gorgeous – small and shapely, with brown areolas.

I immediately bent my head and took one of her peaked nipples in my mouth.

She gasped with pleasure as I sucked on one, then the other.

I finally tore myself away, then pulled her dress the rest of the way down until it cascaded to the floor.

She wasn’t wearing panties. Her hips were wide and beautiful, and the ‘V’ between her thighs was completely bare.

I ran my fingers over her soft skin and kissed her neck, her collarbones, her shoulders.

She undid the zipper and reached inside my pants to feel my raging erection.

“Oh god,” she breathed out.

As we continued to kiss, I caressed her back and cupped the soft curves of her ass.

She rubbed her palm up and down my stiff cock –

Until I couldn’t take anymore.

I stopped her hand, then ripped off the comforter and tossed it on the floor.

“Get on the bed,” I ordered.

“But you’re not undressed yet.”

“Later. Get on the bed.”

She quickly scampered up onto the sheets.

I pulled the pieces of silk out of the box and repeated my actions from the previous night.

As I looped the strands around her arm, she said quietly, “You can tie them if you want to.”

I looked into her eyes and saw exactly what I’d hoped for:

Trust.

“You’re sure?” I asked.

She nodded.

I tied a loose knot around her arm.

“Tighter than that,” she said in playful derision.

I laughed and knotted the cloth again, this time tighter.

“I think we’re going to have to use colors,” she said as she wiggled her bound arm. “Can’t exactly use the time-honored Italian system to slap your wrist when I’m like this, can I?”

I chuckled. “Alright – what color are you?”

“Green,” she said with a huge grin. “Very green.”

I repeated the process with her other arm…

Then pulled her ass to the edge of the bed.

Unlike last night, however, I lifted her right leg…

And tied it at the ankle to the bedpost.

“Oh,” she whispered, her voice full of desire.

I did the same thing to her other ankle so that her legs were arranged in the air in a ‘V.’

“What color?” I asked.

She bit her lip.

“…green,” she whispered.

I could smell the sweet, musky scent of her arousal. I could also see it: her pussy shone wetly in the candlelight.

I pulled out my cock from the fly of my pants and placed it between her wet lips.

Not my swollen head – there was no danger it might slip inside her – but I rested the length of my shaft between the lips of her pussy.

“Roberto – ” she said in alarm, afraid I was about to enter her.

“I won’t be inside you without a condom,” I promised. “But…”

I began to move my hips back and forth, softly rubbing the underside of my cock against her clit.

Her juices got my skin wet, and I slid back and forth over her sensually.

“…ohhhh…” she moaned.

After a moment, I pulled away and lowered my face between her legs.

I traced my mouth gently over her pussy, feeling her wetness on my lips. Then I began to lick her softly.

I started with where her legs met her torso…

Got closer and closer to her pussy…

Then finally began to lick her.

I plunged my tongue inside her, and her smoke-and-honey taste filled my mouth.

“Ohhhhh,” she groaned.

I heard the wooden posts of the bed strain as she pulled against her bonds.

I pulled my tongue out and began to softly lap at her clit.

At the same time, I reached up under and around her legs and began to caress her stomach…

Then eventually moved my hands to her erect nipples and circled them with my fingertips.

Eventually, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I stood up, reached in my jacket for my wallet, and pulled out a condom.

She watched with hungry eyes as I tore open the foil package, put the circle around the head of my cock, and slowly rolled it down over my shaft.

Mei-ling swallowed hard as I placed the tip between her lips…

And slowly eased inside her.

The condom was lubricated. Combined with her wetness, I easily entered her with one long, slow movement.

I disliked condoms because of the lack of sensation, but I could still feel the heat and tightness of her pussy all around me.

“OHHHHH,” she groaned as her head dropped back on the mattress.

Once I was inside her all the way, I paused…

And began to slowly caress the hood of her clit with my fingertip.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned, her eyes closed.

When I was sure she was ready, I began to stroke her clit directly. I used light pressure at first, then firmer.

I also began to move my hips back and forth, slowly easing in and out of her.

Due to the angle caused by the bed, the head of my cock softly rubbed against her g-spot.

She began to moan in Chinese as her arms and legs strained against her silk bindings.

“Look at me,” I said in a gentle voice.

She raised her head and stared into my eyes.

“Don’t come,” I said.

She nodded.

I began to move my hips faster, gradually increasing my speed to full-on thrusting.

At the same time, I rubbed her clit faster and firmer.

Her eyes rolled back as her head dropped onto the mattress again.

“Look at me,” I ordered.

She strained to keep her eyes on me, though her eyelids nearly fluttered closed.

“Don’t come.”

“Please – ” she moaned.

“NO.”

She whimpered, but she nodded.

Over the next several minutes, her body grew more tense. Her breasts heaved as she breathed heavier and faster.

When her eyes inevitably rolled back in her head, I repeated my orders to look at me and not to come.

I kept fucking her and caressing until I was certain she couldn’t hold out any longer –

Then stopped touching her clit and pulled out of her, all at once.

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in surprise.

“ROBERTO!” she cried out angrily.

I knew it was incredibly uncomfortable for her, perched right there on the edge of orgasm with no release –

But that was exactly what I wanted.

At least for the moment.

“Where are your toys?” I asked her.

“I don’t want them – I want you!”

“Where are your toys?” I repeated.

She swallowed hard, as though slightly alarmed at what I might be planning.

Then she gestured with her head. “In the top drawer of the nightstand.”

I walked over and opened up the drawer.

Inside was a dildo. I was pleased to see it was about the same size as my cock.

There were also a couple of vibrators and a container of lube.

I chose the smallest of the vibrators and took it, the lube, and the dildo back to the bed, where I laid them on the mattress next to Mei-ling.

She watched me nervously. “What are you doing?”

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I squeezed a large dollop of lube all over my index finger…

Rubbed it with my thumb until it warmed to the temperature of my body…

And then slowly placed my fingertip between her ass cheeks.

Her eyes widened.

“Wait – red!”

I stopped. “Let me touch you.”

“No.”

“Let me touch you.”

“No,” she repeated, although her voice was slightly more hesitant this time.

“Let me touch you,” I growled.

She looked deep into my eyes for the longest time… then acquiesced.

“Fine. But YELLOW.”

I suppressed a smile and continued what I had been doing.

My fingertip touched her asshole. I gently began to stroke it, using the wetness of the lube to caress her.

She frowned, and her mouth opened in desire.

I slowly circled her…

Then gently eased the tip of my finger inside her.

“Red,” she said.

I immediately withdrew…

But I used my other hand to gently caress the hood of her clit.

“OH!” she cried out.

I stopped caressing her.

She looked at me in shock – then scowled. “No fair!”

I grinned. “Whoever said I was going to be fair?”

I began to stroke her asshole again…

As I gently circled her clit with the index finger of my other hand.

“Fuuuuck… oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” she moaned, her face contorted in ecstasy.

“What color are you?” I asked.

She glared at me. “Yellow.”

I gently eased my fingertip further inside her ass…

And at the same time kept swirling my other fingertip around her clit.

“Oh god,” she gasped.

I kept moving deeper inside her…

All the while rubbing her clit a little bit firmer, a little bit faster.

She cried out in Chinese.

I continued until my finger was all the way inside her.

Her moans indicated she was on the verge of coming –

At which point I completely withdrew and stopped stroking her clit at the same time.

Her head shot up, her mouth dropped open in shock, and she yelled, “I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!”

I just laughed.

“I’m going to put my cock inside your ass,” I informed her. “Condom or no condom?”

“Neither!” she snarled. “Red!”

I picked up the dildo and placed the tip between the lips of her pussy… but left it there, teasing her.

“There was something we didn’t talk about on your BDSM checklist,” I said.

“Yeah, withholding of orgasm!” she snapped.

“No. Double penetration.”

Her eyes widened as she realized what I meant.

Then I took the vibrator and placed it on her belly, with the tip pointed right at her clit.

It wasn’t on, so its presence was merely a promise – nothing more.

Now her eyes grew really wide.

“Condom or no condom?” I asked.

She took several seconds to answer.

“I’ll leave it up to you,” she whispered.

I smiled…

Then unrolled the condom from my cock.

30

Iwas very careful and went extremely slow.

First I squeezed a dollop of lube onto my shaft, then rubbed it in until my cock was wet all over.

Then I placed the tip of my cock between her ass cheeks. It was quite easy; her legs were still up in the air, bound to the bedposts.

I enjoyed the contrast: me, completely dressed with only my cock exposed…

And her, naked and beautiful, arms and legs suspended in the air by the silk strands tied to the bed posts.

“Color?” I asked.

She stared into my eyes.

“…yellow,” she breathed out.

I gently pressed my swollen head against her tight little hole.

“Color?”

She swallowed hard. “Yellow.”

I stared deep into her eyes as I gently eased inside her.

She moaned and whimpered but never broke eye contact.

Once my head was inside her, I stopped and gave her time to get used to me.

While I waited, I took the dildo and began teasing her pussy.

I eased the tip a half-inch inside her, then withdrew it.

She moaned slightly.

As I continued to play with her pussy, I eased another inch of my cock inside her ass.

God she was tight.

She gasped –

But I immediately slid the dildo inside her an inch, and her gasp turned into a moan.

Again I stayed still, not moving my cock, letting her get used to me.

At the same time, I began teasing her pussy again, slipping the dildo an inch inside her, then pulling it out.

And with my fingertip, I began to caress her clit softly… gently.

She began to groan and plead with me, thrashing her head from side to side in her frustration.

A couple of minutes later, I eased another inch inside her ass…

As I slowly moved the dildo another inch inside her, too…

All the while caressing her clit.

This time, she didn’t gasp; she just moaned louder.

So began a slow dance.

I would ease another inch inside both her ass and pussy, caressing her clit as I did it.

I would wait a couple of minutes while she got accustomed to me inside her…

Then I did it again… and again.

The sensations were amazing. I could actually feel the pulse of her heartbeat against my cock.

Finally, after nearly a quarter of an hour, I was all the way inside her.

She also had the full length of the dildo inside her.

That was when I picked up the vibrator, which had long ago rolled off her belly onto the bed.

I twisted the base, turning it on its lowest setting.

It thrummed with a low vibration – vrrrrmmmrrrrmmmmm.

Mei-ling stared at it in my hand.

“Don’t come until I tell you to,” I ordered.

She nodded vigorously, her eyes never leaving the vibrator.

Then I began the second part of the dance.

I very gently eased my cock in and out of her ass… going so slow that it was torture for me…

While more quickly easing the dildo in and out of her pussy…

And I touched the tip of the vibrator just above the hood of her clit, pressing it into her skin.

“OH GOD!” she cried out, her back arching on the bed.

“Don’t come,” I ordered.

I kept gently easing inside her ass…

While more vigorously sliding the dildo inside her pussy…

And slowly moving the tip of the vibrator around the hood of her clit, searching for the spot that would send her into a frenzy.

She whimpered and moaned and thrashed her head back and forth on the bed, but she stopped herself from coming.

Then I found the spot.

It was the upper right of her clitoral hood.

When I touched the vibrator to it, she screamed.

I pressed a little more firmly, knowing that the vibrations would transfer deep into her clit but not overwhelm her –

And began truly fucking her with the dildo, thrusting it in and out of her.

All the while, I still kept moving slowly inside her ass.

“OH GOD!” she screamed.

“Don’t come,” I ordered.

I pressed the vibrator more firmly against the skin around her clit –

mmmrrrrmmmmm

And fucked her harder with the dildo.

I felt a twitch of her muscles around my cock.

She wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer.

“Don’t come,” I ordered.

“OH GOD – OH GOD – ”

“Mei-ling,” I said loudly.

“OH GOD – OH GOD! – ”

“Mei-ling, look at me.”

Through the haze of her ecstasy and agony, she managed to focus her gaze on me through barely open eyelids.

I stared at her as the vibrator buzzed and I fucked her with the dildo –

And finally said, “Come for me.”

She screamed at the top of her lungs.

Her entire body tensed hard as rock, and her back arched up off the bed.

I could feel the contractions around my cock as she came: deep, powerful throbbing all around my shaft.

Only when the contractions began to slow after 20 seconds did I ease the vibrator away from her clit and decrease the thrusts of the dildo.

After 40 seconds, when the throbs became tiny aftershocks, I removed the vibrator completely and withdrew the dildo.

She looked up at me with her hair disheveled and sweat glistening all over her body. Her half-lidded eyes looked like she was drugged.

Her beautiful breasts were still heaving as she gasped for air.

I smiled at her and gently stroked her legs as I slowly, slowly withdrew my cock.

“Unh,” she grunted pleasurably as I slipped all the way out of her.

I quickly moved around the bed to untie her.

Even after I was done, she lay on the bed like a rag doll, unable – or unwilling – to move.

“Let’s take a shower,” I suggested.

She looked down at my erection jutting from my open fly, still rock-hard.

“What about you?” she asked in a slurred voice, almost sounding drunk.

“After the shower.”

31

Ibegan to undress.

As I did, the moment I knew was approaching finally came.

Lying sprawled out on the bed, still in a post-orgasmic high, Mei-ling watched as I unbuttoned my shirt and laid it neatly over my jacket on the back of a chair.

As soon as I turned around, though, she sat up in surprise. “What’s on your back?”

“Scars,” I said as I pulled off my pants.

She got up from the bed, walked over to me, and slowly traced her fingers across my shoulder blades.

The scars weren’t raised, but I knew the slightly different coloration and texture stood out from the rest of my skin, even in the candlelight.

“What are they from?”

“Women,” I said as I folded my pants and laid them over my shirt.

She frowned. “What the hell did they use on you? It’s not bad enough to be from a cat o’ nine tails – ”

“Their fingernails,” I said as I slipped off my boxers and placed them atop my pants.

Now I was completely naked.

Mei-ling raised one eyebrow and asked sardonically, “Is that some sort of a flex?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you trying to say you’re so amazing in bed that they couldn’t help themselves, and gouged wounds in your back during sex?”

“Would that surprise you?” I asked in amusement.

She thought for a second. “Given how you just made me feel for the last half hour… no, I guess not.”

I chuckled and kissed her, then pulled away. “Actually, no, it’s not that. I asked them to do it.”

“You didn’t mention that you’re into pain.”

“I’m not.”

She frowned. “Then why did you have them gouge their fingernails into your back?”

“Control.”

“…what?”

“When I’m close to coming and I don’t want to, pain helps me stay in control.”

Her eyes went wide. “You have women do that to you, just so you won’t come? That’s a little extreme!”

“I would’ve thought you’d seen far stranger things in your line of work.”

“Yes – but it’s usually because the person likes it.”

I shrugged. “I suppose I like it.”

“You just said that you’re not into pain.”

“I’m not.”

She exhaled in exasperation. “Explain.”

“Pain is clarifying. It cuts through the clutter and focuses the mind. It gives you control over your body – at least when you’re on the brink of losing control.”

She finally gave me a look of understanding. “Ah… so that’s what you’re into: control.”

“Exactly.”

“I thought you meant you enjoyed controlling your partner.” She smiled coyly. “Like every time you tell me not to come.”

“Yes… but I want to control myself, as well.”

She nodded. “Now it makes sense: you’re a control freak.”

I narrowed my eyes in playful disapproval. “I don’t know if I’d call it that.”

“Well,” she said seductively as she trailed her fingers down my chest, “I don’t care what you call it as long as you keep making me feel like you did five minutes ago.”

“Deal,” I murmured, and kissed her. “Now let’s go take that shower.”

The water was deliciously hot – a luxury I rarely allowed myself.

But there was Mei-ling to consider, and I didn’t think she would appreciate an ice-cold shower. I was fairly certain it would have killed the mood.

We kissed under the steaming hot spray for a while, but I eventually broke off our kiss and soaped up my rock-hard shaft. I wanted to make sure I was completely clean for whatever happened next.

The sight evidently inspired her, and she began to stroke me. One soapy hand moved sensually up and down my cock, while the other played with my balls.

I groaned and kissed her some more as she slowly caressed me.

Then I forcefully turned her around and bent her over. She had to push her palms flat against the tiled wall to stay upright.

“Oh!” she exclaimed in surprise.

“I have to have you,” I said, my voice thick with desire.

I positioned the swollen head of my cock between her lips.

We hadn’t soaped her up yet, so she was still partially wet from having sex earlier. I could feel the slipperiness of her pussy against my tip.

“You don’t have a condom,” she said breathlessly.

“Is that a problem?”

She took a long time to answer.

“…no,” she finally said.

“Color?” I asked.

“…yellow.”

“I won’t come inside you.”

“…okay,” she said hesitantly.

With one hand, I held onto her waist…

And with the other, I guided my cock inside her.

It was ecstasy.

She was so wet and soft… sensations that wearing a condom completely masked.

I still felt the same heat and tightness as before, but with the sensual pleasure of skin on skin.

“Ohhhhhhh,” Mei-ling groaned, lowering her head in pleasure as I slid all the way inside her.

I waited for a moment in case she needed to get used to me.

Then I held her waist with both hands…

And began to thrust as fast and hard as I could.

“Oh!” Mei-ling exclaimed as my body slap slap slapped against her ass.

It was amazing –

The way she fit me like a glove –

The soft, wet caress of her pussy on my cock –

The impact of my body against hers, every thrust sending vibrations through her ass –

And the delicious heat of the water running over us.

“Unh – unh – unh – ” she grunted in pleasure every time I slammed inside her.

I reached down with my right hand and grabbed a fistful of her long, wet hair. Then I gently tugged her head back as I continued moving my hips.

“Ohhhhhhh,” she moaned.

She was reacting positively to everything –

But not with the same level of arousal as back in the bedroom.

I thought about how I could get her back to those previous heights –

Then I got an idea.

I stopped fucking her and said, “Put your right hand behind your back.”

She complied. Now only her left palm was pressed against the shower wall.

I grabbed her right wrist in my hand and held onto her tight.

“Now give me your left hand,” I ordered.

“But I’ll fall over,” she protested.

“I’ll hold you up. Give me your left hand.”

She hesitantly removed her left hand from the wall.

It was harder to keep her upright, but I clamped down hard on her wrist to keep her from tipping forward.

When she placed her left wrist over her right, I opened my thumb enough to grasp both her wrists at the same time. My hand was big enough, and her wrists were small enough that it worked.

Now, with both her wrists bound behind her, I pulled back on her hair hard and began fucking her again.

The difference was immediate.

“OH MY GOD!” she cried out as I thrust inside her.

I figured that if I ‘tied her up’ in some way – even without silk strands or rope – she would react differently.

Did she ever.

“OH! OH! OH! OH!” she screamed every time my cock slammed inside her.

“Don’t come,” I ordered.

“But – ”

“DON’T COME.”

She whimpered but complied.

I kept thrusting inside her, hard and fast, her ass jiggling with every impact, her entire body swaying.

She clenched her jaw as she tried not to come, but it only muffled her screams. It didn’t stop them.

MM – MM – MM – MM – MM –

Finally she cried out, “PLEASE!”

“Please what?”

“PLEASE LET ME COME!”

“Hold on – ”

“PLEASE!”

“Hold on – ”

“PLEEEEAAAASE!”

I smiled as I thrust into her, making her ass jiggle with every slap slap slap –

Then I growled, “Come for me.”

She howled so loud that the sound was deafening. It reverberated all around us in the confined space of the shower.

As her screams gradually turned into moans, I slowed down and finally stopped. Then I withdrew my cock and helped her stand upright.

When she turned around to look at me, she looked drunk again, her eyes half-closed like she’d been drugged.

We kissed under the hot spray of the shower as I caressed her wet back… her ass… her breasts… her hard nipples.

As I did, she moved her hand slowly over my rock-hard cock.

“I want you to come,” she moaned.

“Then let’s go back to the bed,” I said huskily in her ear.

She nodded in agreement, too overcome to say anything out loud.

32

We toweled each other off quickly, just enough so that we weren’t dripping wet –

And then I threw her down on the bed.

She grinned and kept her legs locked together, taunting me –

But I pried them apart with my arms and bodily forced myself between her legs.

“Jesus, you’re strong,” she murmured.

“Strong enough.”

I grabbed her wrists and held her arms above her head, pinning them to the bed.

She squirmed and tried to throw me off, but I used my weight as an advantage and stayed between her legs –

Then I angled my cock, moved my hips forward, and slowly put the tip inside her.

“Ohhh,” she murmured, her mischievous grin instantly turning to a frown of pleasure.

I held her wrists with my left hand, moved my right hand to her breast, and squeezed it roughly as I slid my cock deeper inside her.

“Oh!” she gasped, her eyes never leaving mine.

I began to fuck her – slow at first, then gradually faster, until I was thrusting deep inside her.

When her eyes rolled back in her head, I told her to look at me –

And she did.

When she was about to come, I told her not to –

And she held off, biting her lip, her brows knit in concentration until I whispered in her ear, Come for me.

Her screams nearly pushed me to the breaking point.

I wasn’t quite at the brink of coming yet, but I was getting dangerously close.

As I kept thrusting inside her, I let go of her wrists and said, “Hurt me.”

She stared up at me through the haze of orgasm and said, “…what?”

“I don’t want to come yet. Hurt me.”

“But I want you to come,” she protested.

“Not yet. Hurt me,” I growled.

She reached her hands around my sides and raked her fingernails down my back. “Like that?”

“Harder,” I ordered.

She used a little bit more force, but not enough.

“Harder,” I snarled as I continued to thrust.

Her expression was caught between pleasure and concern for my well-being –

But she finally dug in and dragged her fingernails down my back like claws.

I felt the first real bloom of pain –

Which overrode all pleasure and gave me control.

Now I knew I could keep going –

So I fucked her as hard and deep as I could.

She was so wet – wetter than I’d ever felt her before.

Her eyes were rolling back in her head, and I could feel the pressure of her nails letting up –

“Harder!” I yelled at her.

She dug in like a lioness.

Pain overcame pleasure once again –

But then she started to come.

Her screams of pleasure were too much for me. They pushed me over the edge.

I kept my promise from earlier and pulled out of her –

Then pressed my cock hard against her pussy as I kept moving back and forth.

The sudden, slippery pressure against her clit made her lose her mind.

It certainly made me lose mine.

I bellowed as my cock exploded, spurting jets of hot cum across her belly and breasts, as far up as her neck.

She screamed until she was hoarse –

And I collapsed on top of her, utterly spent.

33

We lay like that for a moment, our bodies pressed together, both of us gasping for air…

And then I kissed her.

I only stopped when she chuckled against my mouth.

I stopped kissing her and pulled back. “What?”

She looked down between us with a smile. “You must’ve been saving that up forever.”

I pulled my body away from her and saw what she was talking about:

My cum all over her belly and breasts, now sticking to both her body and mine.

She was right; there was a lot of it.

“I hope you’re alright with that,” I said.

“More than alright,” she said with a lopsided grin. “I liked it when you came all over me.”

“Good. It would be unfortunate if you didn’t.”

She laughed. “True. By the way, thanks for pulling out.”

“I promised I would.”

“I know, but a lot of men wouldn’t have kept their promise. Not in the heat of the moment – especially when it was that hot.”

“I always keep my promises. Even in the heat of the moment.”

“Good to know.” She smiled. “We should probably take another shower and clean this up.”

“I agree. I don’t want to get any blood on your sheets.”

Her eyes suddenly widened. “…what?”

I chuckled as I got up on my knees and turned around. “How does it look?”

“Oh my GOD!” she cried out in distress. One of her hands flew up to cover her mouth.

“What?”

“I fucking cut you!”

I laughed. “I asked you to.”

“Yeah, but there’s blood trickling all down your back!”

“Now you know how I got those scars.”

“Yeah, but – ”

“You said you worked as a dominatrix in the past. Surely you did worse things to your clients than this.”

“Yeah, but only when they wanted me to!”

“I wanted you to,” I said huskily. I leaned over her body on all fours and kissed her. “It was the only way I could hold out for as long as I did.”

“Yeah, well, I wish you didn’t hold out that long, then!”

I looked into her eyes. “Are you saying you wish you didn’t have that last orgasm?”

She bit her lip as she stared back at me.

“…okay… yeah, it was fucking incredible – but I wish I hadn’t shredded your back in the process!”

“I’m fine. I wanted it.”

She sighed. “Well, what’s done is done, so let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Sounds good,” I said, and kissed her again before we headed for the shower.

34

After we were both clean and dried off, my scratches had stopped bleeding – but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t start again.

I offered to lie on a towel so I didn’t stain her sheets.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “If it doesn’t come out in the wash, I have plenty of other sheets.”

When we returned to bed, I lay on my back with Mei-ling under one of my arms.

As she nestled up against my chest, she murmured something in Chinese.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“The closest approximation is ‘holy shit.’”

I grinned. “I’m hoping that’s a good ‘holy shit’ and not a bad one.”

“Very, very good.” She paused for a moment, then asked, “Did you learn all that from the older woman you lost your virginity to?”

“A lot of it. Not all the first night, though.”

“I should hope not. I can’t even imagine that being my first time. I would’ve lost my mind.”

“Did you lose your mind tonight?” I asked playfully.

“A couple of times, actually.”

I laughed and kissed her.

When we went back to lying in each other’s arms, she asked, “So… you received your education from – what was her name again?”

“Vittoria.”

“Right, Vittoria. So after she taught you, what happened? Did you go on a rampage, sleeping with dozens of women?” Mei-ling asked wryly, like she was resigned to hearing about years of bad behavior.

“No, actually. I was already involved in my family business, and I had some funds at my disposal, so I paid Vittoria enough that she could stop working at the brothel. I was her sole client for a couple of years.”

Mei-ling propped herself up on one elbow and looked at me in surprise. “So you had a relationship with her?”

“More or less. I would call it an ‘arrangement.’”

“Did you love her?”

When I didn’t answer immediately, Mei-ling said, “I’m sorry, that was too personal – ”

“It’s fine. No… I can’t say that I’ve ever been in love.”

Mei-ling stared at me. “Never?”

“No. But… I cared for Vittoria. And she cared for me. That was enough. She was the only woman I slept with the entire time we were together, and I’m fairly certain she was faithful to me.”

“What happened? Did you break up?”

“Unfortunately, no. She’d had a traumatic life before we met and was an addict. Opioid pills – oxycontin, mostly. I paid for her to go to rehab, and she stayed clean for a year, but she relapsed. She didn’t tell me when she started using again. Maybe she was ashamed. Maybe she didn’t want me to stop her… I don’t know.” I tried to smile but failed. “Sometimes people’s demons get the best of them.

“I lived an hour away from her, in the countryside outside Florence, and I was busy with my family’s business. I only saw her every other week, so she was able to hide her drug use from me. But one night, she took too much… and she overdosed and died.”

Mei-ling stared at me in horror.

“I was the one who took care of her funeral. No one from her family came – it was just me and some of her friends from the brothel,” I said quietly. I paused for a long time, then finally said, “I didn’t see anyone for a long time afterwards.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mei-ling whispered. I could hear the pain in her voice.

“Thank you. It was several years ago, though, so it’s been a while.”

“Still… that’s awful.”

“It was at the time, yes… but it’s in the past.”

And it was.

But I immediately regretted telling Mei-ling.

I’d killed the mood, so I tried to restore it by being funny.

“Well, on that tragic and uncomfortable note – ”

“Stop,” Mei-ling whispered.

She put her hand tenderly on my face as she looked deep into my eyes.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to ‘entertain’ me. You don’t have to ‘perform’.” She smiled sadly, and tears glistened in her eyes. “I appreciate you telling me. I really do.”

“…thank you,” I murmured.

I felt at peace…

Like I could be myself – truly myself – with her.

Which, for me, was a rare feeling indeed.

Mei-ling leaned over and kissed me on the lips… softly… sweetly.

I kissed her back…

And I slowly became hard.

She felt it against her belly. I knew she did, because she rolled over onto her back, gently pulling me along with her.

As we continued to kiss, she opened her legs to me…

And it felt like she was opening herself to me.

Not just her body, but her heart.

I eased inside her…

And we made love for the first time.

Actually…

It was the first time that I’d ever made love –

With anyone.

Not just sex, no matter how gentle or tender…

But something far more powerful.

This time, I felt a confusing flood of emotions.

Not just desire or lust…

Or the need to control a woman’s body… to make her come…

But joy.

Intimacy.

Vulnerability.

…love.

I didn’t try to stop my orgasm through pain. I just let it happen naturally.

When I was about to pull out, Mei-ling clutched my ass with her hands and kept me inside her.

“Come inside me!” she cried out. “Come inside me!”

That tipped me over the edge.

We came together, staring into each other’s eyes…

Her screaming with ecstasy…

And me feeling like I was drowning in her gaze.

Afterwards, as we lay in each other’s arms and she drifted off into sleep…

I reflected on what I’d told her earlier.

I can’t say that I’ve ever been in love.

For the first time in my life, that was no longer true.

I was falling for Mei-ling.

I knew it deep in my bones.

It was dizzying –

Terrifying.

I felt completely out of control…

Yet it was the most joyful, exhilarating emotion I’d ever felt.

And as I looked down at Mei-ling’s angelic face as she slept…

I knew that nothing would ever be the same for me again.

35

Iwoke with a start.

The room was dark. When I looked out the window, the glass appeared almost black but slightly translucent; I could see the dim outline of clouds in the sky. I figured it was some sort of electronically controlled tinting.

I turned towards Mei-ling –

But the bed was empty.

Then I heard a metallic clank from elsewhere in the apartment.

Still naked from the night before, I stood up and walked over to the bedroom door. When I opened it, I smelled brewing coffee and heard the sounds of someone working in the kitchen.

I smiled and quickly got dressed.

I put on my pants, socks, shoes, shirt, and suit vest. I rolled my sleeves up to my elbows for a more casual vibe and left my tie and jacket draped over the chair.

I went into the bathroom and used the facilities. Then I washed my hands with soap and used a dollop of toothpaste to scrub my teeth with my finger.

Afterwards, I checked my phone: 9:47 AM.

No messages from Lau, Niccolo, or anyone else.

I left the bedroom and went in search of Mei-ling.

As I walked through the apartment, I heard something sizzling in a pan.

I walked into the kitchen and stopped to admire the view.

Mei-ling was at the island pouring a cup of coffee. She was clad in a light green silk robe, cinched at the waist with a thin strand of material. The robe ended at her thighs and showed off her lovely legs.

The front of the robe gapped open slightly, revealing the curve of her bare breasts. She was wearing nothing underneath.

Her hair was wild and in disarray, which I loved; she looked like we had just finished having passionate sex.

“Good morning,” I said.

Her face lit up when she heard my voice. She looked over at me with a smile –

Which died as soon as she saw me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“You’re leaving?” she asked in obvious disappointment.

I frowned. “No.”

“You look like you’re leaving.”

I looked down at my clothes.

To someone unaccustomed to my habits, the suit vest might have looked a bit formal.

“This is just how I dress.”

She stared at me in shock. “First thing in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“To lounge around the house?!”

“Yes.” I added defensively, “I’m not wearing a tie.”

She burst out laughing. “You really are an accountant, aren’t you?”

“Ha ha,” I said in a deadpan voice as I gave her a playful glare. Then I walked over, put my arms around her waist, pulled her in, and kissed her.

She melted into my embrace.

We kissed for almost 20 seconds before she suddenly tore away, crying out in Chinese, and raced to the stove.

She flipped some eggs in a pan with a spatula – but the underside was a solid circle of golden brown.

“Dammit,” she muttered.

“Is that a Hong Kong way of cooking eggs?” I asked.

“No, they were supposed to be scrambled. I told you last night I could cook eggs, but apparently I can’t even do that,” she said with a rueful laugh.

I came up behind her, looped my arms around her waist, and nuzzled my face against her hair. “I’m sure you could if you weren’t distracted by me.”

“Mmm,” she murmured, and I could hear the smile in her voice. She tilted her head to the side, giving me access to her neck, which I took full advantage of. I kissed up and down her bare skin –

Until she yelped again in Chinese and quickly returned to the eggs.

When she flipped them again, both sides were now a golden brown.

“Great,” she muttered.

“You should’ve just told me they were ‘eggs à la Hong Kong.’ I would’ve never known the difference.”

She laughed. “Okay – these are eggs à la Hong Kong.”

“They smell delicious.”

“You’re really going to eat these?”

“If I get to eat them sitting next to you – absolutely.”

She grinned at me like I’d said the most flattering thing possible, then sighed. “Alright. Eggs à la Hong Kong, coming right up.”

We ate at a table in the room next to the kitchen.

Daylight poured in through the window. There was a stunning view of Hong Kong Harbor – but all I could look at was the gorgeous woman sitting next to me.

Despite the golden brown color and firmness of the eggs, they tasted just fine.

As we were finishing up, I asked, “What are you doing today?”

“After two nights away, I should probably put in an appearance at work.”

“I want to see you again.”

She gave me a huge smile. “Oh, that’s definitely happening.”

“But I want to do something with you outside the bedroom.”

“Ooooh… in another room?”

“I meant besides sex.”

“Why?” she teased me, then immediately said, “I’m kidding. As long as we still get to have sex afterwards.”

“Oh, that’s definitely happening,” I said, repeating her words from earlier.

She laughed. “Good. What do you want to do?”

“I want you to take me on a tour of Hong Kong. Let’s do all of your favorite things.”

“So… basically have sex with you all over Hong Kong?” she asked with an impish smile.

“I was thinking of something we wouldn’t get arrested for.”

“So… not that wild, hm?”

“Not that wild, no.”

She looked up at the ceiling like she was pondering the possibilities. “I can think of a couple things we could do.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not going to tell you, silly. That would ruin the surprise.”

“Alright, I look forward to being surprised, then. When will you be free?”

“I need to work tonight, but we could do it tomorrow morning.”

“Wonderful. Should I meet you here at – say, 10 AM?”

“That would be lovely. But don’t you have business you need to attend to?”

“I’m waiting on some people to travel to Hong Kong for a meeting, and they’re not in any hurry to get here.”

“Sounds annoying.”

“It was at first, but now it’s wonderful… because it means I can spend more time with you.”

She gave me a luminous smile, and I leaned in towards her.

We kissed for nearly half a minute when I moved my hand inside the front of her robe and caressed her bare breast. I felt her nipple stiffen immediately beneath my touch.

She put a hand against my chest and backed away. “If we do anything this morning, you’ll have to be gentle. I’m a little bit sore down there.”

“Oh,” I said, concerned. “We don’t have to.”

“I didn’t say no,” she said with a coy smile. “I just said you have to be gentle.”

“I can be very gentle.”

And I was.

We went extremely slow…

With nearly an hour of me going down on her, bringing her to orgasm after orgasm.

I didn’t end up leaving her apartment until long after noon.

After sex, we showered and got dressed, and Mei-ling called me a cab. We kissed sensuously one more time, and the last thing I saw was her grin as she closed the door.

By the time I was downstairs in the lobby, I was feeling something I’d never experienced before with a woman:

The pain of separation.

Wanting to see her again.

Needing to see her again.

And after just two minutes away from her.

My brothers would have ribbed me mercilessly if they were here.

Roberto’s been struck by the thunderbolt!

Mr. Checkbook is head over heels with something besides a bank statement!

The main problem was they would’ve been right.

I was in deep.

My obsession with Mei-ling bothered me slightly.

I shook my head in disbelief and worry…

But then I thought of seeing her again and grinned like an idiot all the way out to the cab.

When I returned to the hotel, I called Mr. Lau’s office and asked if there was any word from Gota or Xi.

“Not yet, Mr. Rosolini,” he said in a bored voice.

“That’s fine,” I said cheerfully. “Just let me know if you hear anything.”

When I hung up the phone, I felt a little guilty.

My family needed me back home during this crisis…

But I selfishly knew that the longer I stayed in Hong Kong, the happier I would be.

That night I stayed in and ordered dinner from room service.

Han unexpectedly called me on my cell phone.

“How did you get my number?” I demanded.

“Mr. Lau.”

“Oh.” Of course.

Han tried to persuade me to go out, but I refused.

“Things going well, then?” Han asked in an amused voice.

“Very well,” I said, not bothering to disguise the happiness in my voice. “In fact, you don’t need to entertain me anymore.”

“THAT well, huh?”

“That well.”

I turned in early. Though it took me a couple of hours to fall asleep…

I eagerly awaited seeing Mei-ling in my dreams.

36

The next morning, one of the hotel’s town cars drove me to the Summit.

I arrived at Mei-ling’s apartment at 10 AM sharp.

We kissed at the door – gently at first, then more passionately.

As I started to inch forward into the apartment, she laughed and pressed one hand against my chest. “NO. If you come inside, we’ll never leave.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” I murmured as I kissed her neck.

“You said you wanted me to play tour guide.”

“I think I’d rather you do some other things for me instead,” I whispered, gently nibbling at her ear.

“NO! Stop! Red!” she cried out and giggled, then slapped my arm playfully. “Time-honored Italian system! Time-honored Italian system!”

I immediately stepped away from her.

“Ohhhh… so it does work,” she said with a grin.

“I told you it does. On me, at least.”

“Good to know.”

Rather than take a cab, Mei-ling took me to the underground parking deck of her building, where she led me to a silver convertible Bentley.

“Very nice,” I said admiringly.

“Thank you,” she cooed as she slipped behind the wheel. “She’s my baby.”

We pulled out of the parking garage and took a left. Minutes later, we were winding down the tree-lined road to Hong Kong.

After five minutes, we reached a parking lot nestled amongst the trees. We left the Bentley, walked along a small side street, and reached a covered walkway of steps beside a steep train track.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“The tram line to the Peak.”

“The peak?”

“It’s actually named ‘Victoria’s Peak,’ back from when Britain ruled Hong Kong – but nobody calls it that anymore. It’s just ‘the Peak.’ I think you’ll like the view.”

Before long, a rail car started coming up the incline. It stopped beside the station and we climbed aboard.

The tram was filled with rows of simple benches made of polished wooden slats. The windows and huge glass skylights on top of the tram let in ample sunlight.

Mei-ling paid for two tickets, and we took a seat amongst dozens of fellow riders.

The tram started up again through a thick forest. I gazed outside the window, amazed that a place so wild and unspoiled could exist only minutes from one of the biggest cities on Earth.

A few minutes later, Mei-ling pushed a button beside our seat.

Ding!

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I want you to see Barker Road Station.”

Sixty seconds later, the tram stopped. We exited – and stepped back in time to the 19th Century.

A whitewashed wooden structure of arched doorways and wooden railings looked out over the treetops. We had the station all to ourselves; besides us, the place was deserted.

After I’d had my fill of the view, I took Mei-ling in my arms and kissed her.

We made out for at least five minutes until the next tram came crawling up the hill, at which point she playfully batted me away. “Time-honored Italian system! Time-honored Italian system!”

We boarded the tram and rode the rest of the way up to the top, where an odd-looking building greeted us: a gigantic steel semi-circle perched atop a smaller glass rectangle.

“That’s Peak Tower,” Mei-ling informed me. “Lots of shops inside. The shape at the top is supposed to look like a wok.”

We went inside Peak Tower and rode escalators past various shops and restaurants. Finally we reached Sky Terrace 428, a walkway around the top of the ‘wok’ that offered breathtaking views of Hong Kong and the harbor.

Once that was done, we descended to ground level and made our way to a building along a nearby street. The ragged stone exterior and red roof looked like a kitschy version of a Bavarian mountain inn, but looks were deceiving. Inside was a beautiful restaurant with high sloped ceilings, dark wooden tables and chairs, and a magnificent patio nestled amongst the trees.

Mei-ling slipped a banknote to the hostess, and she made sure we got a marble-topped table right next to the railing with a magical view of the harbor.

“Everything on the menu is quite good,” Mei-ling told me. “Not as good as the restaurant you took me to, obviously, but it’s one of the better touristy places in Hong Kong. I particularly recommend the seafood.”

“You order, then. I trust you.”

She spoke to a waitress in Chinese. Moments later we were sipping glasses of champagne as we waited for our food.

“What are you speaking – Cantonese or Mandarin?” I asked.

“Cantonese. Something like 90% of Hong Kong speaks it. Mandarin is tiny by comparison, maybe 5%.”

We chatted until the food came:

A two-tiered tower of seafood, with chilled lobster on the top bed of ice, and oysters and shrimp on the bottom…

And a bowl of spaghetti with half a lobster on top.

“What’s this?” I asked as I pointed at the pasta.

“Boston lobster spaghetti.”

“Boston lobster spaghetti?” I repeated dubiously.

She laughed. “Does the Italian gentleman not approve?”

“We’ll see,” I muttered as I twirled some of the noodles onto a fork and took a bite.

“Well?”

I made a hmmmm face. “Not bad.”

The consistency of the pasta wasn’t that great, but the spices – which were Asian rather than Italian – were interesting.

“Good ‘not bad,’ or meh ‘not bad’?” Mei-ling asked.

“Well, I’ve never tasted anything like it in Italy.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or a complaint.”

“It’s growing on me,” I said as I pried some of the lobster meat out of the shell.

“You can order something else if you don’t like it.”

“No, no,” I said after I chewed and swallowed. “The lobster is excellent.”

“Just not the spaghetti.”

“You’re talking to an Italian,” I said drily. “I have slightly different standards than most people in Hong Kong.”

Mei-ling laughed, then squeezed a lemon onto an oyster and sucked it out of its shell.

We ate and chatted until we were full.

At the end of the meal, things took a slightly serious turn… although it didn’t seem that way at first.

“How long will you be in Hong Kong?” Mei-ling asked, her voice casual.

“I don’t know. I’m here on business, and when it’s concluded, I have to leave.”

“How long will that take?”

“Again, I don’t know. I’m waiting on some other people to come to Hong Kong for a meeting, but they’re taking their sweet time about it.”

“Oh,” she said and looked down at the table.

I reached my hand across the table and took hers. “What?”

She looked up, gave me a forced smile, and looked back down. “Nothing.”

“No – what?”

She kept looking at the table when she spoke. “It’s just… I’m going to miss you.”

My heart skipped a beat when she said it.

“I have some urgent things to attend to back home, but as soon as they’re taken care of, I’m coming back to see you,” I promised.

She looked up at me in annoyance. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make promises you’re not going to keep.”

“Oh, I’m going to keep them.”

She sighed. “You don’t have to pretend this is anything other than what it is.”

“Which is what?”

“Fun,” she said flippantly and gave me another forced smile.

“Actually,” I said quietly, “it’s a lot more than just ‘fun’ to me.”

She peered into my eyes as though searching for the truth.

“…really?”

“Really.”

I wanted to tell her I’m falling in love with you. Hell, I’m already IN love with you –

But I didn’t want to scare her off.

More than that, though, it sounded insane – even to me.

You’ve only known her, what – 72 hours?

And the first 24 of those hours, she hated your guts.

But I knew, deep down, that I didn’t give a damn about the insanity of it.

I only knew I wanted her…

More than anything I’d ever wanted in my entire life.

But I was afraid of overwhelming her, so I kept those thoughts to myself.

She finally smiled. It was tinged with sadness, but it was genuine. “Good. You better come back – otherwise, it’ll be completely unfair.”

“Why unfair?”

She leaned forward, looked at me with bedroom eyes, and murmured, “Because you’ve ruined me for all other men.”

Not only did my heart skip a beat again, but my cock started to stiffen.

“Considering that I only have a limited time… why don’t we go back to your place and let me ruin you a little more?”

She grinned. “That sounds like a very good idea.”

37

We could barely keep our hands off each other on the tram ride back down.

Well… to be accurate… I could barely keep my hands off of her.

It’s not as though there were that many people on the tram with us. Most visitors stayed all day at the Peak, shopping and sightseeing.

So the tram had fewer than a dozen people, all adults.

We sat in the very back, five rows away from the nearest passengers.

“Stop!” Mei-ling half-whispered, half-giggled as my hand crept up under the hem of her dress.

“Spread your legs for me,” I whispered.

“No!”

“Spread your legs for me.”

“…no…”

“I said, spread your legs for me,” I growled in her ear.

She bit her lower lip fearfully… then parted her legs.

I moved my fingers up her thigh as I watched around us.

I was very careful – I didn’t want anyone around us to have a clue what we were doing.

I thought that I would brush against rough lace or soft silk –

When suddenly my fingers touched the bare lips of her pussy.

She was sopping wet.

I looked at her in surprise –

And she suppressed a smile as she stared straight forward.

I faced forward again, too –

But began to stroke her gently with my fingertip.

“Oh,” she breathed, her face melting into a frown.

I found her clit and slowly began circling it.

She grabbed my arm and tried to make me stop –

“Leave it,” I whispered.

She let go of me and instead gripped the top of the bench in front of us as I kept stroking her.

If anyone had looked back at us, they would have seen a couple sitting side-by-side, both facing forward: an Italian man with an air of calm concentration, and a beautiful Asian woman who looked like she might be in pain… or pleasure.

My finger began rubbing her clit directly with the tiniest bit more pressure.

“Mrm,” she groaned with her mouth shut, her fingers white-knuckling the seat in front of us.

“Don’t come,” I whispered as I kept stroking her.

“Mm,” she groaned again as she clamped one hand on my leg like a vise.

I had to admit, she was stronger than she looked. I was fairly sure I would have bruises later.

“Don’t come,” I whispered.

She began clutching wildly at both my leg and the bench in front of her, like a woman who had been holding her breath for three minutes.

I waited until the tram went over a particularly noisy section of track.

CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK

Then I turned my head…

Leaned over…

Brushed my lips against her ear…

And whispered, “Come for me.”

Her entire body tensed –

And her muffled scream was swallowed up by the CLACK-CLACK-CLACK of the tram.

I kept softly caressing her clit…

Even as her hand moved from my leg to my arm and gripped me like steel.

Then the tram quit clacking –

And I immediately stopped stroking her.

Her entire body relaxed a bit…

Her breasts heaved beneath her dress like she had just run a 300-meter dash…

And a bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face.

She looked over and glared at me playfully.

“Your motherfucker,” she whispered.

I suppressed a smile. “I didn’t know you had any children.”

“Very funny. Just you wait – payback’s a bitch.”

I hadn’t moved my hand from under her dress, and I immediately began caressing her clit again.

“Okay okay okay!” she moaned in a harsh whisper. “No payback, no payback!”

I stopped touching her, and we exited the tram a few minutes later.

When we finally got back to her apartment, though, she fucked me like a woman possessed.

38

That was just the first in a series of erotic adventures over the next week.

At the start of the date, Mei-ling had joked about us having sex all over Hong Kong.

I had written it off as jest… then slowly realized I was turned on by the idea.

Luckily for me, Mei-ling had nearly as big an appetite for risky behavior – like sex in public – as she did for bondage.

On several occasions, we nearly got caught…

The most notable being the night we went to the Hong Kong Opera.

I’ll save that tale for another time.

I found that the more risks we took, the more enthralled with her I became…

And that being on the edge of losing control only increased my obsession with her.

As a result, though, I barely checked in with Lau.

All I could think of was Mei-ling.

A week passed by in a passionate blur…

Until I got a call from Niccolo.

39

Iwas at Mei-ling’s apartment. It was mid-afternoon, and I was waiting for her to return from a business errand.

When I saw Niccolo’s name on my cell phone screen, I felt a pang of guilt. I’d been texting him daily with a simple No change in the situation, but I’d been too preoccupied with Mei-ling to call and find out what was going on back home.

I answered immediately. “Hello.”

“Are you alright?” he asked.

I could hear the stress in his voice and immediately grew concerned.

“Yes – what’s wrong?”

“I haven’t heard from you in a week.”

“I texted you every day.” I didn’t feel like now was the best time to bring up Mei-ling, so I simply said, “Nothing’s changed, unfortunately.”

“Well, things have changed here. We still can’t reach Massimo, and now Lars has gone missing.”

“What?!”

Niccolo told me how Lars had gone to London to meet the woman from his past, the one who had tried to kill Dario. Lars had contacted her under a false name, posing as a customer who needed her services as an assassin.

Ever since the night he was supposed to meet her, Lars hadn’t answered any of Niccolo’s calls…

And Massimo hadn’t contacted Niccolo, either.

Dread filled my stomach. “Do you think they’re…”

I couldn’t bring myself to say the word ‘dead.’

“I’m not going down that road until I have to. But the fact remains that two of us are out of commission. Valentino’s in Sicily – ”

“Wait – what?!”

Niccolo sighed. “You remember the Vicaris?”

For those who don’t speak Italian, the name is pronounced vi-CAR-ee.

“Of course,” I replied.

The Vicaris were the most powerful family in Sicily – the island that was the literal birthplace of the Cosa Nostra hundreds of years ago.

Don Vicari was known for being a brutal mafioso and a fearsome leader. Several families had territories on the island, but Vicari served as Sicily’s representative on the Council – the group of Cosa Nostra families that controlled the major cities and regions throughout Italy.

“We arranged for Valentino to marry Don Vicari’s daughter.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Fausto’s trying to turn everyone against us, and he’s more or less succeeded. We need allies. That was the whole point of sending Massimo to Venice – to get the Widow on our side.”

Now I understood.

“And you think this alliance with Don Vicari will help if we can bring Fausto before the Council.”

“I’m sure of it. Don Vicari has already sworn to support us.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Things have been a little fucking hectic around here,” Niccolo barked. “And YOU don’t do anything besides text me, so – ”

“Alright, alright,” I said guiltily, knowing exactly why I hadn’t called. “Did Valentino already get married?”

“No. The wedding’s in two weeks.”

“And how does Valentino feel about this?”

Niccolo gave a bitter laugh. “How do you think? Dario had to give him a direct order to make him obey.”

“Jesus,” I muttered.

“I had to tell him to quit thinking with his dick and start caring about the family.”

Now I was very glad I hadn’t brought up Mei-ling.

“He’ll come around eventually. I’m not so sure about Alessandra, though.”

“What’s going on with Alessandra?”

“She’s FURIOUS. She’s friends with that servant girl Valentino was banging, and now she’s got it in her head that the two of them are meant for each other. I tried to talk sense into her – that Valentino’s a horndog, and he only cares about a girl until the next one walks by – but Alessandra won’t listen to reason.”

“How bad is it?”

“Remember that night when she argued with Dario and left the house?”

There was no way I could forget.

That was the night the Turk used Alessandra as a hostage to invade our mansion and try to kill us all.

I winced. “That bad?”

“Not yet, but it’s getting there.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. “How can I help?”

“That’s the reason I called,” Niccolo said darkly. “If you haven’t gotten the money by now, it’s because the Syndicate is working with Fausto.”

“If the Syndicate were working with Fausto, I’d be dead.”

“They may not be following his orders, but I’m convinced he’s influencing their decisions.”

“Does this information come from your mysterious source?” I asked sardonically.

“I’m EXTRAPOLATING from my mysterious source,” he snapped. “But you have to admit, it’s odd that they haven’t given you a solid ‘yes’ or ‘no’ even after all this time.”

I felt guilty all over again. I hadn’t bothered Lau nearly enough the past week. I’d only called him twice, and I cheerfully hung up both times he brushed me off.

“I’ll triple my efforts,” I promised.

“I’ve talked with Dario, and we don’t care about the money anymore. I mean, obviously we care, but we care about YOU more. With Massimo and Lars both… in trouble… we can’t afford to lose you.”

I was touched by the very real concern in Niccolo’s voice – but I couldn’t afford to fail. Especially not after having spent the entire week in Mei-ling’s bed. I would never be able to live with myself if my failure caused us to lose our war with Fausto.

Actually, I wouldn’t have to live with myself. If Fausto won, we would all be dead.

“I’m not leaving without the money, Nic. I’ll get it – I promise.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. Right now, I’m betting the Syndicate is stalling you because they don’t want to kill you. They know that if they do, we’ll come after them. But if Fausto succeeds, the Syndicate won’t have to worry about reprisals. And with two of us potentially… gone…”

“The Syndicate might decide to make it three by taking me out,” I said quietly.

“Yes. Which is why Dario and I want you back home.”

“Let me see if I can find a way to protect myself first.”

“How the fuck are you going to do that?”

“Leave that to me.”

“Roberto – ”

“Don’t make me come home quite yet. Give me a chance to get the money.”

I didn’t add, And save the family.

I didn’t have to. Niccolo knew exactly what was at stake.

He sighed. “Alright… but you HAVE to be careful, little brother.”

“I will,” I promised.

“If there’s ANY sign of danger, GET OUT. That’s a direct order from Dario.”

I froze. I couldn’t defy a direct order from my don.

“But only if there are clear signs of danger… correct?”

“I can already hear you trying to exploit the fine print,” Niccolo said humorously.

“Don’t make me come home unless it’s absolutely necessary. Not until I’ve either succeeded or it’s clear I would fail no matter what I do.”

“…alright. Just as long as you come home in one piece.”

40

After I hung up with Niccolo, I considered my options.

First, I had to protect myself – which meant I needed a gun. Until I had one, I would be at the mercy of Han or any of Lau’s other employees.

If they wanted to wrestle me into a car and take me to some deserted spot to kill me, there was nothing I could do to stop them.

Having a gun would change all that – or at least give me a fighting chance.

Second, I needed some sort of leverage… a way to threaten Lau in case he was involved with Fausto.

Financial leverage was out of the question. Lau held all the cards.

I also didn’t want to threaten outing him, Gota, or Xi to the authorities. That was the quickest route to a shallow grave.

Whatever I chose for leverage would need to inflict maximum damage on Lau or his property.

I had something in mind, but it would be expensive and difficult to obtain.

However, I was fairly sure both things I needed – the gun and the second item – could be purchased on the black market.

The problem was I had no contacts in Hong Kong’s organized crime scene.

I had no idea who to approach nor any way to find them.

Not to mention that no black market dealer would trust a stranger asking for what I wanted.

Therefore, I needed someone to make introductions and vouch for me.

But how could I get the contacts I needed?

I figured De Sade was the answer.

Mei-ling’s club operated on the very fringe of legality. It had to.

Hong Kong’s vice laws were incredibly strict. Although there might not technically be paid sex inside De Sade – at least not between customers and employees – I didn’t think the authorities would consider being whipped for money all that different from prostitution.

Which meant Mei-ling probably bribed the cops so she could stay in business.

She hadn’t mentioned anything about bribing the authorities, but she wouldn’t have – for the exact same reasons I hadn’t told her about my family: it would be a monumental risk. And an incredibly stupid one, at that.

When you lived the kind of life my brothers and I did, you had to be extremely careful about who you trusted.

You never knew when someone might sell you out.

A serious brush with the law could turn many a so-called friend into a Judas…

Especially if it kept them out of jail.

If my time with Mei-ling had just been a fling, there was no need to tell her about my family.

She and I would merely part ways, with her none the wiser as to what I did for a living.

But…

It wasn’t just a fling.

That much was certain.

And if I wanted to keep her in my life, I would need to be honest about what she was getting involved in.

I figured telling the truth might convince her she could trust me –

And, in turn, she might provide me with the local connections I needed.

In my experience, those who bribed the police also had contacts in the criminal underworld. Fellow travelers and all that.

It was certainly true of my family. Even though we avoided many illegal activities, we knew who all the big players were in Italy.

Even if Mei-ling was only bribing cops, there was an excellent chance she knew members of Hong Kong’s organized crime scene.

Either that or she had some sort of connection. Maybe one of her clients could put me in touch with the right person.

Unfortunately, I was going to have to ask her for help – even though it could put her at considerable risk.

I just hoped she didn’t resent me for it.

If she refused to help, I would understand.

It would probably impact our relationship in the short term, but I would get over it.

If Fausto didn’t kill me first.

But no matter what, the time had come.

I had no choice:

I was going to have to lay all my cards on the table…

And tell the woman I loved who I really was.

41

Ipaced back and forth in the living room, rehearsing my speech while I waited for her to come home.

When Mei-ling finally walked in the door, she beamed and made a beeline for me.

After we kissed, she pulled back and smiled. “Miss me?”

“Of course. Everything okay at De Sade?”

“Yes, everything’s fine.” She frowned the tiniest bit as she peered into my eyes. “Are you alright? You seem a little on edge.”

“I have something I need to ask you.”

“Uh-oh,” she joked. “This sounds serious.”

“Actually, it is serious. Do you mind if we sit?”

“Um… alright…” she said with a wary frown.

She put her purse on a table against the wall.

When we sat on the sofa, I angled my body to face her.

“I need to ask you something. You’re under no obligation to tell me, and if you don’t want to discuss it, I’ll understand – but I need to buy something, and you’re the only person I know in Hong Kong who might be able to help me get it.”

“What do you need?”

“The first thing I need is a gun.”

She stared at me in shock. “What?! Why?!”

“I have reason to believe I might not be safe here, and I need to make sure I can protect myself.”

“Why aren’t you safe?!”

“The man I’m doing business with has my family’s money tied up in an investment. I need it back, and I’ve asked for it repeatedly, but he keeps stalling me. I’m worried it’s because he’s working with an enemy of mine.”

She frowned. “Who are you doing business with?”

“You know Mr. Han? The man who was with me both nights I came to De Sade?”

“…I know him,” she said grimly.

“It’s his boss – a man named Lau.”

Mei-ling got a sick look on her face. “And you think Lau is working with an enemy of yours?”

“Yes.”

“Who? Somebody else in finance?”

I smiled grimly. “Not exactly.”

“Why would you need a gun?”

“Because I’m afraid my enemy might try to kill me.”

Her eyes went wide. “Who?!”

“My uncle.”

She looked astounded. “Your UNCLE wants to KILL you?!”

“I’ll explain, I promise – but first I need to know if you have contacts on the black market.”

Her face became a neutral mask. “You mean the kind of place where you could buy a gun?”

“Exactly.”

“Why would you think I know anybody like that?”

I tried to be as diplomatic as possible.

“I figure that De Sade operates in a grey area of what’s legal in Hong Kong… and as a result, you might know other people who do business in the same grey areas.”

“Buying a gun on the black market isn’t a grey area – it’s illegal.”

“Yes, I realize that – ”

“You could get 14 years in prison if the police found it on you.”

“I understand that, too. I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think I was in serious danger.”

“I want to know why your uncle is trying to kill you.”

I sighed. “I never told you exactly what business my family is in.”

She stared at me in silence, waiting for me to continue.

“Have you heard of the Cosa Nostra?” I asked.

“The Italian mafia?”

“Yes. My family is part of the Cosa Nostra. We control the city of Florence and part of the area around it.”

I had expected Mei-ling might be afraid or that she might physically recoil from me.

However, I was not prepared for what happened next.

She leaped up from the sofa and stumbled backwards, her face full of horror. “GET OUT!”

I stood up in surprise. “Mei-ling – ”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” she screamed hysterically.

“Mei-ling, we’re businessmen – we’re not murderers, or – ”

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU ARE! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY APARTMENT RIGHT NOW!”

“But – ”

“NOW, GODDAMMIT, OR I’M CALLING THE COPS!”

She was terrified, like she’d just found out I was a serial killer.

“Mei-ling, please – ”

She turned and ran for the table where she’d put her purse.

Thinking she was going for her cell phone, I stepped forward. “Wait – ”

But she pulled out a pistol instead.

It was a Smith & Wesson .22 revolver. A small caliber gun, but more than enough to ruin my day.

I stopped short and stared at her in shock.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment, Roberto,” she hissed, her voice somewhere between terror and rage.

My shock gave way to slowly rising anger.

“Why would I ever think you had any contacts on the black market?” I said sarcastically.

“Get OUT.”

“You know,” I said, throwing her own words back in her face, “you could get 14 years in prison if the police found that on you.”

“GET OUT!” she screamed –

And cocked the hammer on the gun.

“Alright, I’m going,” I snapped. “At least let me get my things.”

“Hurry.”

I walked into the bedroom to get my jacket, tie, and wallet.

When I came back to the main room, she still had the gun pointed at me.

“Mei-ling, we need to talk,” I said calmly.

“We’re never talking again. Now GET THE FUCK OUT.”

I shook my head in bewilderment and anger, then walked out the front door.

The second it closed, I heard the deadbolt slam into place.

42

When I reached the lobby, I had the doorman call a cab for me.

While I waited, I stood there in a daze and replayed the last 15 minutes in my head.

No matter how many times I went over it, I couldn’t understand how everything had gone so terribly wrong.

A bright red cab eventually showed up and took me back to the hotel.

As soon as I got back to my room, I immediately proceeded to get shit-faced.

I poured myself glass after glass of scotch. As I drank, I stared out at Hong Kong as the sun set and the lights of the city began to come up.

Over the next several hours, I returned again and again to the same possibilities.

As the owner of an illicit club, Mei-ling might’ve had some sort of run-in with the Chinese triads.

Maybe gangsters had extorted or threatened her. Maybe she hated anyone connected with organized crime as a result.

That would explain the gun: protection from mobsters.

Or maybe she’d had an ex who was abusive.

Or maybe there was something horrible in her past… some kind of sexual assault.

Any of those would explain the gun – but they didn’t explain Mei-ling’s absolute terror when I told her about my family.

She had to have some kind of issue with organized crime that made her react that way.

An ex who was a member of a triad, maybe?

Once I was sufficiently drunk, I decided to call her.

It rang three times before going to voicemail.

“Mei-ling,” I slurred, “we need to talk. Call me.”

I paused for a second, then added, “Please.”

Within seconds of me hanging up, I got a text from her.

I told you never to contact me again.

I started typing out my response, but my fingers were clumsy from the booze.

Before I could finish, I received another text:

I’m blocking you. Leave me alone. I never want to speak to you again.

I cursed as soon as I saw the message, but sent what I’d written anyway.

i dont know what happened but we can work it out i’m not what you think

I stood there staring at my screen, hoping for a response.

It never came.

After waiting for what felt like an eternity, I called her again.

This time, it went immediately to voicemail.

I knew she’d blocked me, but I still left a message, just in case.

Even in my drunken state, I was lucid enough not to leave any incriminating details.

“I don’t know what’s happened in your past, or bad experiences you had with… those kinds of people… but I promise you, it’s not like that with me. My family – we’re trying to do something different. That’s why I’m here in Hong Kong, so we don’t have to do our old business anymore. But even then, my brother changed everything when he took over the company. We’re trying, Mei-ling. I’m not like whoever hurt you in the past. I promise. Please, just call me… we can work this out if you’ll just call me.”

I reluctantly hung up the phone.

Then I drank some more and waited.

She never called back.

43

Idon’t remember a lot from that first night. I blacked out at some point, so I only had fuzzy memories about what happened.

I do remember becoming enraged and throwing a bottle at the wall.

I found confirmation the next morning: shards of glass littering the floor and the stink of scotch.

Good scotch, yes – but the smell still filled the room.

I’d also screamed a lot. I deduced that as soon as I woke up, because my vocal cords felt like they’d been shredded.

As I sat there on the edge of my bed, still drunk and dressed in my clothes from the day before, I stared at my cell phone in despair.

Mei-ling hadn’t texted or called.

And I felt a horrible certainty that she never would.

I was helpless…

Powerless…

Heartbroken.

But unlike the previous night, when I had been consumed by impotent rage, I knew I had to go about things differently.

I had to take back control.

It’s what I did in every situation.

I have an analytical mind. When presented with a challenge, I simply reviewed potential courses of action until I found a viable solution.

Over the next few minutes, I came up with a plan.

In retrospect, it probably wasn’t a good plan.

But I was still drunk…

And helpless…

And heartbroken.

Not to mention obsessed.

And a man who’s both heartbroken and obsessed isn’t the clearest of thinkers.

In fact…

He’s downright dangerous.

44

The first thing I did was hit the streets of Hong Kong. I didn’t even bother to shower or change my clothes.

I knew I couldn’t walk around in a $20,000 suit without attracting attention, so I used Google Maps to find the nearest clothing store.

I also didn’t want the hotel concierge to see me in my hungover state, which is why I used my phone.

The store was a mainstream corporate chain – a Chinese version of The Gap.

I browsed until I found what I needed:

A black hoodie with a zipper down the front…

Jeans…

Several t-shirts…

Tube socks…

And running shoes.

I also grabbed a pair of sunglasses from a counter display.

The girl at the register greeted me in Chinese.

“Do you speak English?” I asked.

She shook her head ‘no,’ so I stayed silent as she rang up my purchases.

It was probably for the best. She got one whiff of the alcohol on my breath, noticed my day-old scruff and bloodshot eyes, and avoided eye contact for the rest of the transaction.

I didn’t want there to be any possibility that Dario or Niccolo might find out what I was doing by hearing from the credit card company’s fraud department, so I paid in cash.

After all, me of all people purchasing from a Chinese version of the Gap? Highly suspicious.

After I paid, I only had a few hundred Hong Kong Dollars left – about $38 US.

That was when I realized I needed a source of funds for my plan.

I returned to the hotel and dropped off my new clothes, then showered, shaved, and brushed my teeth.

I was still too nauseated from my drinking binge to eat, so I skipped breakfast.

I put on my second suit, which was freshly laundered and pressed.

Then I grabbed the check from the safe (the one for $227,000 the El Dorado casino gave me after I played poker with Han) and left the room.

I dropped off my rumpled suit with housekeeping to be dry-cleaned, then headed out again.

I searched Google Maps until I found a nearby bank our family didn’t do business with – one of those giant international conglomerates with a branch in every first-world country.

I walked into the lobby and asked for a manager who spoke English.

I got to speak with someone immediately – probably because of my Rolex and suit.

The manager was a thirty-something man with a chubby face and glasses. He took me into his small office and asked with a British accent, “So, Mr. Rosolini – how might I help you today?”

“I’d like to open an account with your bank,” I said as I slid the check across his desk.

“Certainly,” he said with a smile, which got even bigger when he saw the amount on the check.

“How quickly can the funds be available?” I asked. “Say, 100,000 Hong Kong dollars to start?”

It sounds like a lot, but 100,000 Hong Kong dollars was only $12,800 US.

The manager beamed. “We have an excellent relationship with the El Dorado Casino, so we can probably verify the check and get you that amount within 48 hours.”

“I need it quicker than that.”

His tone became apologetic. “I’m sorry, I just don’t think we – ”

“What if I put up collateral?”

“In that case, we could extend you a personal loan until the check clears.”

I took off my Rolex and slid it across his desk. “Will that do?”

He looked at the watch, blinked, and looked back up at me. “Um… yes, that will do nicely.”

After filling out all the necessary forms, I walked out of the bank without my Rolex but with 100,000 Hong Kong dollars in my pocket.

I returned to the hotel and switched out my suit for the jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie.

I felt extremely odd. Other than when I’d trained with Lars (along with our family’s foot soldiers), I hadn’t worn these kinds of clothes since I was 12 years old.

Ever since I turned 13, I had favored dress clothes and suits.

Yes, I’ll admit it: I had been an unusual child.

The next thing I did was call an Uber.

In case Lau was working with Uncle Fausto, I didn’t want to use one of the hotel’s town cars. Lau owned the hotel, and the driver might pass on information about where I went.

Also, most taxis in Hong Kong were bright red, which would stand out too much for the kind of mission I was on.

So Uber it was.

The blue Toyota Camry shown on the app pulled up to the curb.

When I got in the backseat, the driver greeted me in Chinese.

“Do you speak English?” I asked.

He shook his head and said, “No English” in a thick accent.

“Cantonese?” I asked.

He nodded and said something I didn’t understand.

Good.

I had already downloaded a translation app, dictated a message, and translated it into Cantonese.

I think my girlfriend is cheating on me.

I want you to help me follow her, but we might have to wait around for several hours.

Hit the button on the screen and speak into the phone. This app will translate your reply into English.

I thrust my arm through the division in the seats so he could see the text on my cell phone screen.

He read the message and glanced back at me warily. Then he took the phone, dictated something, and handed it back.

Sorry, but I don’t want to get involved.

I had a backup plan for that, too.

I dictated into the phone, “I’ll pay you 500 Hong Kong dollars every ten minutes we have to wait. That’s 3000 Hong Kong dollars an hour, in cash. Would that change your mind?”

3000 Hong Kong dollars was nearly $400 US.

Not bad for an hour’s work.

If we had to sit and wait for three or four hours, he could make a considerable sum.

Once the driver read the message, his eyebrows shot up.

“Okay,” he said in a thick accent.

After that, we were off to the races.

He drove me to the Summit, Mei-ling’s apartment building.

We arrived around 11 AM and parked on the street in front of the high-rise.

I anticipated Mei-ling would head towards the city, so I had the driver point his car in that direction.

I put on my sunglasses and pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, just in case she saw me when she drove by.

“We’re looking for a silver convertible Bentley,” I dictated into the phone, then showed it to the driver.

His eyes widened and he dictated something into my cell.

You’ve got a rich girlfriend. No wonder you want to keep her.

I chuckled and wondered what his reaction would be if he saw my family’s house in Tuscany.

“When we follow her, I want you to stay back at least a hundred feet,” I dictated. “Don’t get too close.”

My driver read the message, nodded, and replied.

Just like a police TV show, the translation read.

“Exactly,” I said with a smile.

We sat and waited for two hours.

As promised, I handed him a Hong Kong 500-dollar bill every ten minutes.

He seemed quite pleased with the arrangement.

Finally, just after 2 PM, the silver Bentley pulled out of the Summit’s underground parking and turned towards Hong Kong.

My heart leaped in my throat when I saw her.

The convertible’s top was down, and she wore sunglasses and a scarf wrapped around her hair to keep it in place.

She was absolutely beautiful –

And for a second, I panicked that I would never have her again.

I pointed and said, “That’s her.”

The tone of my voice was clear: That’s the woman you’re supposed to follow.

“Wow,” the driver replied.

I guess certain words were universal.

He cranked the engine, waited until she was about a hundred feet down the road, then started after her.

My Uber driver proved remarkably proficient at tailing Mei-ling. It made me wonder if he’d followed people before.

He stayed at least 100 feet behind her all the way down the tree-lined hill.

Once we reached the city, he kept two or three cars between us and the Bentley at all times.

Twenty minutes after we started following her, Mei-ling pulled into an underground parking structure.

Though I hadn’t seen it during the daytime, I immediately recognized the building as the one that housed De Sade.

My driver looked at me in the rearview mirror and said something in Cantonese.

I was fairly certain he was asking, Do I follow her into the parking lot?

“Keep driving,” I said, motioning for him to continue down the street.

Using the translator on my phone, I got him to circle back around and park in an alleyway across from the building.

I briefly considered going in after her, then decided against it.

De Sade had security; it would be far too easy for them to throw me out.

I would confront her when the time was right…

And at a moment of my choosing.

I figured Mei-ling would remain at De Sade until she left work, so there was no reason for us to hang around.

I had the Uber driver take me back to the Continental. Once we arrived, I used the translator to ask if he would come back to pick me up at midnight and help me stake out De Sade.

I offered the same deal as before: 500 Hong Kong dollars every 10 minutes, with an extra thousand-dollar bonus for having to stay up so late.

He happily agreed, and I waved goodbye as I stepped out of the car.

An amusing thing happened shortly afterwards.

I walked inside the Continental, lost in my thoughts.

What would I say to Mei-ling when I finally approached her?

What would she say?”

And why had she reacted so violently when I told her about my family?

As I waited for the elevator, a voice said, “Excuse me.”

I turned to see a burly Asian man in a suit staring me down.

I’d seen him around the lobby. He was one of the hotel’s employees – most likely security.

“Yes?”

“I’d like to know the nature of your business here,” he said sternly.

I frowned. “I’m staying in the penthouse.”

He snorted. “Sure you are.”

That’s when I realized I was still wearing sunglasses and a hood over my head.

I pulled off both so he could get a good look. “My name is Roberto Rosolini. I’m – ”

“Oh – my apologies, Mr. Rosolini,” the man said, obviously embarrassed. “I didn’t recognize you.”

“No problem at all,” I said, and got on the elevator with a smile.

If someone who was paid to be on the lookout hadn’t recognized me, then I hoped Mei-ling wouldn’t either.

Not until I was ready.

45

The blue Toyota Camry was waiting outside the Continental Hotel when I came down at midnight.

I couldn’t stand the hoodie and jeans, so I wore my suit instead. I figured there was no way Mei-ling would see me in the dark, so it would be safe enough.

Wearing my normal clothes again was sweet relief.

However, my driver didn’t recognize me. I had to go up to his window and tap on the glass.

At first he did a double-take – and then he made a face like, Not bad.

Once I got in the backseat, I handed him a 1000-dollar bill to start things off.

“Take me back here,” I said via the translator and gave him the club’s address.

The driver said something into the phone.

Nice clothes.

I chuckled. “Thank you.”

Twenty minutes later, we were sitting in the alleyway across from De Sade.

I kept feeding the driver 500-dollar bills as I watched limousines, luxury cars, and cabs drop off well-dressed men and women.

At one point, the driver asked for the phone and spoke into it.

I’m going to take a nap. Keep track of the money and give it to me later.

I said “Okay,” and he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

Even though it was 1 AM, there was no chance I would fall asleep. Too much adrenaline was coursing through my veins.

I kept revisiting the scene from Mei-ling’s apartment and wondering how our reunion would play out.

Shortly after 4 AM, the silver convertible pulled out of the underground parking.

I feverishly tapped the driver’s shoulder, startling him awake. After a few seconds of disorientation, he started the engine and we drove after the Bentley.

“Stay far behind her,” I ordered.

He said something in Chinese – probably What?

I translated the phrase and showed him the phone.

“Okay, okay,” he said curtly.

We followed Mei-ling through the city and up the tree-lined road to the Summit, where we saw her turn in.

“Park here,” I said, pointing at the curb. He understood what I wanted without the translator.

I started to get out when the driver began to yell.

I looked back at him in confusion – then realized I hadn’t paid him for the last three hours.

I shoved a fistful of bills at him, then said, “Stay here,” as I pointed down at the ground.

“Okay,” he said happily as he counted the money.

I walked out into the darkness and stared at the upper floors of the Summit.

The building was a shadow against the dimly lit sky. There were only a few visible stars; everything else was drowned out by the lights from Hong Kong.

Mei-ling was on the 57th floor. I counted up from the ground and got reasonably close.

Suddenly, one of the apartments lit up a floor below what I’d thought was the 57th.

I saw a figure move past the window.

The silhouette was too far away to make out details – but it was her. I knew it.

My heart skipped a beat in my chest… and then stuttered again when the light went out.

Soon, cara mia, I thought silently.

Soon you’ll be mine again.

46

Thus began a strange daily ritual.

Every morning at 11 AM, my Uber driver would pick me up at the Continental and take me to the Summit. I wore the hoodie and jeans as a disguise during the day.

We would wait for Mei-ling’s silver Bentley to emerge – usually around 1 PM – at which point we would follow her to De Sade.

Once she parked, my driver would take me back to the Continental.

Then he would pick me up at 2 AM, dressed in my three-piece suit, and drive me back to the club.

We would wait until Mei-ling emerged in her Bentley, usually after 4 AM.

I was looking for some variation – some window of opportunity to intercept her – but her schedule was like clockwork.

A clock that was repeatedly off by as much as half an hour, yes, but a clock nonetheless.

I kept up my surveillance for nearly a week. I spent so much money on my driver that I had to go back to the bank for more funds.

By that point, my check from the casino had cleared. On my next visit, I walked out not only with another 100,000 Hong Kong dollars but also my Rolex.

I didn’t need the Rolex…

But I did need the money to feed my addiction.

Mei-ling became my sole focus. Everything else went out the window.

I stopped calling Lau and couldn’t have cared less when he didn’t contact me.

If he had called me, I would have been despondent – because that would have meant I’d have to leave Hong Kong.

The one thing that ate at my conscience was Niccolo. He texted me every day – What’s happening? – and I texted back guiltily, Working on it.

It was true… although only by the thinnest of margins.

The real truth was that I was a man obsessed.

Nothing – not even my duty to my family – could stand in the way of my insanity.

I felt ashamed of that…

And yet I still kept chasing her, like a junkie chasing his next high.

Every glimpse of her was another hit.

Every time I saw her face, I craved more.

I imagined her naked body writhing beneath me…

The sight of my cock sliding inside her pussy…

The way she spoke Cantonese in the throes of passion…

The sounds she made when she came.

Every memory I recalled only made the addiction worse.

There was nothing I wouldn’t do to get her back…

Nothing.

On the fifth night of surveillance, I got bored and told my driver to stay put while I got out of the car.

I began walking the streets outside De Sade, looking for a way to get inside without being seen.

The underground parking lot had a metal lattice gate that went up and down as cars entered and exited. Not only that, it was monitored 24/7 by cameras, so that wouldn’t work.

I couldn’t get in through the lobby. I was certain the men guarding the elevator would turn me away.

Even if I could get by them and go up to the 10th floor, I would encounter the red door, which could only be unlocked from the inside.

I returned to the car in defeat.

I considered whether I should just call Han and tell him I wanted to visit De Sade.

At least that way, I was fairly sure I could bully my way in.

It would be less than optimal – I knew Mei-ling would be enraged – but it was better than all this useless waiting.

Then…

On the sixth night…

Something happened.

47

It was raining slightly when my driver picked me up at 2 AM.

I paid him 10,000 Hong Kong dollars up front – our new arrangement for keeping him up so late for only a few hours – and he drove me to De Sade.

After five minutes of being unable to see anything through the rain-smeared windows, I grew restless.

“I’m going for a walk,” I announced.

“Mrm,” my driver mumbled sleepily as he continued to nap.

I exited the car and walked towards the end of the alleyway.

The rain was only a light drizzle. My suit would be fine, but the water would probably wreak hell on my Gucci shoes.

I didn’t care. If there was even a chance I could glimpse Mei-ling, I would have gladly thrown everything I was wearing into the ocean.

As it turned out, I got much more than a glimpse.

As soon as I reached the end of the alleyway, a figure appeared around the corner.

It was a woman in a trench coat and short black dress, her face only half-visible in the darkness –

Mei-ling.

And she was pointing her .22 Smith & Wesson at me.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she hissed.

As soon as I realized it was her, joy shot through my veins like a hit of cocaine – or what I imagined cocaine would feel like, having never taken it before.

I was so overcome with relief and happiness I didn’t even care about the gun.

“Darling,” I whispered – although I said it in Italian: Tesoro mio. Literally, ‘my treasure.’

She probably had no idea what I’d just said, but the tenderness in my voice was unmistakable.

A flash of confusion passed over her face –

And maybe a tiny bit of longing.

“What are you doing here?” she repeated angrily.

“Should you really be showing that in public?” I asked as I glanced at her gun.

When I looked back up at her face, I could tell she was worried.

“There’s no one around,” she snapped.

“Will that stop a police car from driving by?”

She looked caught between anger and indecision.

“Let’s get in my Uber and talk.” I pointed at the car about 20 feet behind me. “It’s dry, and we can – ”

“Are you fucking insane? I’m not getting in there with you.”

“If you don’t want to talk in the car, let’s at least step away from the main road so you don’t get arrested.”

She looked conflicted, but finally agreed. “Send the Uber away first.”

“Alright,” I said happily.

I wasn’t even thinking about how I would get back to the Continental.

In my fantasy, I wouldn’t even return to my hotel.

Instead, I would go to her apartment and make love to her till dawn.

…or get shot and die in the alleyway.

I didn’t seriously believe that last part, though. It was only a fleeting bit of dark humor.

I was with Mei-ling now; nothing else mattered.

I turned towards the car, then glanced back at her. “You might want to hide the gun.”

She scowled but stuck her hand inside her trench coat pocket. The barrel poked quite obviously against the material. “Don’t try anything – I’m still pointing it at you.”

“I gathered,” I said drily as I walked towards the car.

I rapped my knuckles on the door. My driver started awake with a jolt and rolled down the window.

“You can go,” I said. “Thank you.”

I emptied my wallet and offered him the rest of my cash – a fairly thick wad of bills.

He stared at me in confusion, then looked at Mei-ling.

I wasn’t sure if he could see the shape of the gun barrel poking through her trench coat, but I could tell he didn’t trust her.

I glanced over my shoulder at Mei-ling. “He only speaks Cantonese. Please tell him he can go and that I won’t need his services anymore. And thank him for me.”

She spoke several sentences.

The driver looked up at me questioningly. “…okay?”

He was asking if I was alright.

I smiled and nodded. “I’m okay.”

“…okay…” he said warily as he took the money. Then he said something in Cantonese.

“He said ‘thank you,’” Mei-ling translated.

I smiled at him again, gave a single nod, and held up one hand in farewell.

The driver nodded, looked worriedly at Mei-ling one last time, then cranked the engine and drove away.

48

Iturned back to Mei-ling.

She still looked angry, but at least she didn’t pull the gun out.

I figured that was progress…

Even if the Smith & Wesson was still aimed at me.

“Why are you following me?” she asked angrily.

This was the moment I’d been waiting for, planning for, hoping for – the moment it all came down to.

I could have said, Because I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life.

That would have been true…

But it wouldn’t have been the whole truth.

There was no point going halfway.

Either she felt the same as me, or she didn’t.

So I decided to lay down all my cards on the table.

“Because I’m in love with you,” I said.

I heard her gasp, and she took the tiniest step backwards.

I moved towards her slowly. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone else. Never. I think about you every moment I’m awake; I dream about you when I sleep. I need you more than the air I breathe. You’re more precious to me than my own life.”

I was only a few feet away from her when she whispered, “Stop.”

There was no conviction in her voice.

If anything, she sounded afraid.

I didn’t know if she was afraid of me, or afraid of what she was feeling – and I didn’t care.

I stopped right in front of her, my face just inches away from hers.

I could feel the gun pressing against my stomach through the fabric of her trench coat.

“If you’re going to kill me, then go ahead and do it,” I said quietly. “You’d be doing me a favor by putting me out of my misery – because I can’t live without you. I won’t.”

She stared up at me. Her cheeks were wet – with rain or tears, I couldn’t tell.

Her lips quivered –

And then I heard a man’s voice about 30 feet away.

He spoke Chinese, so I couldn’t tell what he said – but I didn’t need to know the words to understand the leering tone in his voice.

I looked over Mei-ling’s head to see three scruffy assholes standing at the mouth of the alleyway.

The nearest one had spoken. His clothes were shabby, and he was in desperate need of a haircut and shave.

Mei-ling whirled around to face the stranger.

When he saw her, the leader laughed nastily and started walking into the alley. His two grinning flunkies followed close behind him.

Mei-ling yelled at them, her tone sharp.

The leader grinned and pulled something out of his jacket pocket.

There was a click –

And the steel of a switchblade glinted dimly in the gloom.

As Mei-ling pulled out the pistol from her trench coat and pointed it at the thugs, I thought, My friend, you just brought piss to a shit fight.

The three men shouted in surprise and took a step backwards.

But then Mei-ling’s arm began to shudder.

Not just a tiny tremble, but violent shaking.

If she had fired the gun, I wasn’t sure she would have hit anyone.

The leader’s expression turned from alarm to wolfish cunning.

Mei-ling shouted something at him, but I could hear the terror in her voice.

The leader smirked and started towards her again, testing her resolve.

That was when I decided to get involved.

I reached over and took the gun gently from her hand.

She released it without a struggle.

Then I aimed the gun right at the leader’s head.

He looked uncertain – especially since my arm didn’t waver in the slightest.

“Balls or head,” I said.

Mei-ling looked at me, her eyes wide. “What?”

“Ask him if he wants it in the balls or the head.” When she continued to stare at me, I said, “Ask him.”

She turned to the asshole and presumably translated what I’d said.

He looked surprised – then laughed and started cursing at me.

I didn’t need to speak Cantonese to understand.

You won’t do it, you fucking pussy!

So I pointed the gun at the ground beneath his feet and fired.

BLAM!

The alleyway echoed with the gunshot.

Mei-ling screamed –

But the three assholes screamed even louder. I was fairly sure at least one of them shit their pants.

In a country where guns were illegal and even street thugs rarely saw one, having a pistol fired at you was terrifying.

At least, more terrifying than it was in my line of work.

“What are you doing?!” Mei-ling shrieked.

I ignored her and pointed the gun back at the asshole’s head. His expression was vastly different from three seconds ago.

“Balls or head?” I asked again.

For added emphasis, I lowered the gun so it was aimed at his crotch.

The assholes in the rear turned and fled first.

When the leader saw he had been deserted, he glanced at me in terror –

Then bolted after them.

Once they were gone, I turned back to Mei-ling.

Her entire body was shaking as she stared at my hand.

I realized that not only was she afraid of the three thugs, she was scared of me –

Because now I had the gun.

I glanced down at it…

Then held it out to her by the barrel so the handle faced her.

“If you’re going to kill me,” I said, “get it over with quick.”

She looked at the gun, then at me –

But she didn’t reach for it.

So I put it in my pocket, stepped forward, wrapped my arms around her waist –

And pulled her against me as I kissed her in the rain.

For the briefest of seconds, she froze –

And then she kissed me back with wild abandon, her hands clutching my head.

My heart soared.

I had never been more overwhelmed with joy in my entire life.

We kissed for 30 seconds before she broke it off.

“We have to get you out of here,” she whispered. “Someone must have heard the gunshot and called the cops.”

I grinned. “Let’s go, then.”

She took my hand in hers…

Pulled me towards the end of the alleyway…

And then we ran across the street through the rain.

49

Mei-ling got us into De Sade’s underground parking garage by punching a code on a keypad, which raised the latticed gate.

Then we raced down the ramp to her car.

The convertible’s top was already up, and we jumped inside – her behind the wheel, me in the passenger seat.

She moved to start the engine –

“No,” I groaned as I pulled her towards me. “I can’t wait.”

“Roberto!” she giggled as she tried to bat away my hands. “No – ”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes,” I growled as I cupped one of her breasts beneath her rain-soaked dress.

“…no…” she moaned, but I could tell from her heavy-lidded eyes that she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

“YES.”

I pulled her forcibly over the center console.

She shrieked and laughed – then went along with it, shifting in the confined space until she could get on top of me.

I had to let my seat back a little so we had enough room, but soon her legs were straddling mine.

We kissed passionately, her long wet hair hanging down around my face.

I pulled the hem of her black dress up around her ass. At the same time, she fumbled to unzip my pants –

And then her hand reached in and pulled my rock-hard cock out through my fly.

Although no one else was in the parking garage this time of night, her trench coat formed a natural tent around us, shielding our bodies from anyone who might have looked.

I felt the material of her thong; it was soaked – and not from the rain.

I pulled it to one side, just enough to give me access to her pussy –

And then I used my hand to guide my cock as she lowered herself down on it.

“Oh my God,” she moaned as she took me inside her.

“Fuck,” I grunted as her wetness enveloped me.

She ground her hips back and forth, moving me inside her as fast as she could –

And I kissed her frantically as I gripped her ass cheeks.

We fucked like that for half a minute, and it was bliss –

But I knew she needed one last thing.

So I grabbed her arms, forced them behind her back, and pinned her wrists with my hands.

The effect was instantaneous.

Her mouth opened in an ‘O’ of bliss, and her eyes rolled back in her head as she continued to grind her hips.

“Look at me,” I growled.

She managed to focus her eyes on mine, though she looked like she was in a state of delirium.

I yanked her trench coat down so it bunched around her arms, which allowed me to trap her wrists and control them with one hand.

I moved my other hand to the front of her body and began rubbing her clit with the pad of my thumb.

“Oh my God!” she cried out as her eyes rolled back in her head again.

“LOOK AT ME,” I ordered, and she brought her gaze back to me.

She moved her hips rapidly, riding my cock, as I frantically rubbed her clit. I could feel the heat radiating off her body.

“OH FUCK!” she cried out, and her mouth opened wide –

“Don’t come,” I hissed.

“ROBERTO – ”

“Don’t come.”

“ROBERTO, PLEASE!”

As we stared into each other’s eyes, I whispered, “Come for me.”

She screamed and collapsed on top of me, her face buried in the crook of my neck –

And my cock exploded inside her at the same time.

My bellowing joined her shrieks of passion –

Until we were both spent, neither of us moving.

I panted as she lay limply atop me.

Gradually, she pulled her face back to look at me.

I tenderly brushed aside the wet strands of her hair.

“I love you,” I whispered.

Tears filled her eyes.

“I love you, too,” she whispered back.

50

Mei-ling drove us to the Summit as fast as was safe.

After a hot shower to get rid of the chill from the rain, we made love again – this time in her bed.

It was no less passionate than what we had done in the car, but we took our time… and used ropes and scarves to heighten her pleasure.

She had at least half a dozen orgasms before I finally came inside her.

Afterwards, as she lay in my arms, I finally asked her what I’d wanted to know all along.

“Why did you react so strongly when I told you I was in the Cosa Nostra?”

I felt her body tense against mine.

I waited in silence.

It was nearly 30 seconds before she whispered, “My father was a triad gangster.”

“…ah.”

Now it all made sense.

Even if I didn’t know the details, I could imagine why she’d reacted the way she did.

“I didn’t know until I was a teenager,” she continued.

“He hid it that well?” I asked gently.

“He ran the group he was part of, so he was more like a high-level businessman. He wore a suit all the time, and he kept his work separate from our family. I didn’t know anything about what he did until I was kidnapped.”

Kidnapped.

I looked down at her in shock. “Did they – ”

“No,” she whispered. “They didn’t hurt me. They were trying to use me as leverage, to make him give up part of his territory. They knew if they hurt me, he wouldn’t rest until they were all dead.

“But at the time, I didn’t understand why I’d been kidnapped. Not until a week later, when my father and his men came into the warehouse where I was being held captive and slaughtered everyone.”

My heart ached for her. My own life had been filled with violence; from the time I was a child, my father’s enemies had tried to kill my family. But they had never once laid a finger on me or my brothers.

I could only imagine how terrifying it must have been to be a teenage girl and be taken hostage without knowing about her father – and then watch him kill her kidnappers. That kind of trauma would leave lifelong scars.

“That was bad enough, but things got even worse when I became an adult,” Mei-ling said. “He and my mother kept pressuring me to get married. He tried to arrange matches for me – sons of other high-ranking gangsters – and I had to keep putting him off.

“Then, when I got into the BDSM community, my father found out somehow. The triads have connections to every illegal activity in Hong Kong, so it was probably just a matter of time.

“He sent thugs to my job – in front of all my co-workers – and they forced me to come with them. When we got to my parents’ house, my father screamed at me for ten minutes straight. He told me I was a degenerate and that I had dishonored our family. That probably doesn’t sound so terrible to you, but in Asian cultures, dishonoring your family is one of the absolute worst things you can do.”

“I understand better than you might think,” I murmured.

I was telling the truth. Other than my obsession with Mei-ling, the one thought that had gnawed at me the past week was that I was betraying my family. I was ignoring them so I could follow my own selfish desires.

I cringed to think what their reaction would be if they found out what I was doing.

“My father said he was ashamed of me,” she whispered. “He said he was ashamed I was his daughter.”

I winced and held her tight. My father would never have said that to me or my brothers – not even in his angriest, darkest moments.

“But I wasn’t a scared little girl anymore,” she said. “I fought back. I told him he was a bully and a thug and a murderer. I told him he had dishonored our family, and that I was ashamed to be his daughter. That was when he slapped me.”

Rage flared up inside me.

I wanted to kill him for laying a finger on the woman I loved.

“He told me I was officially cut off from the family and to never come home again. That I was no longer his daughter. I haven’t talked to him, my mother, or my brothers ever since. That was four years ago.”

No wonder she hated anyone involved in organized crime.

But there was still something I didn’t understand.

“What about the gun?” I asked quietly.

“What about it?”

“Why do you have one?”

“Originally, I got it because I was afraid my father might decide to make our estrangement permanent.”

She said it ironically, but the matter-of-factness in her voice chilled me to the bone.

The thought that a father might kill his own daughter? It was an infamia –

Even worse than a man murdering his own brother and then trying to kill his nephews.

Mei-ling’s father and my Uncle Fausto were apparently cut from the same cloth.

“He never did it, though. Obviously, since I’m still here. I guess there are some levels even my father won’t sink to.” Mei-ling laughed ruefully. “But having the gun was like a security blanket. In my line of work, you tend to run into some real assholes. I’ve had enough of them thrown out of De Sade that I wanted a little protection in case they tried to stalk me.”

“Does that include me?” I teased her.

She gave me a playful glare. “Yes, it does. Although when you’re as bad a stalker as you are – ”

“What?!” I said indignantly.

She laughed. “I’m constantly worried that gangsters and psychopaths are going to try to kill me. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice I was being tailed that first day you followed me from my apartment?”

“…oh,” I said, feeling deflated.

I thought I’d been quite clever.

Apparently not.

“We have dozens of security cameras on the streets outside De Sade. My security team picked you out the first time you parked in the alley.” She lightly tapped the tip of my nose. “Nice hoodie and sunglasses.”

“Alright, alright,” I grumbled. “Why’d you come out and confront me, then?”

“Because I was fucking annoyed at being stalked, that’s why.”

“Well… at least things turned out for the best,” I said as I caressed her back.

“Mmm… that’s true,” she murmured with a smile, then tilted her face up for a kiss.

After we did that for a while, she pulled back and asked somberly, “Are you still trying to get a gun?”

All my previous plans about Lau – the ones I’d forgotten over the last six days – came flooding back.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Just borrow mine, then.”

“Thank you… but I need something else, too.”

“What?”

When I told her, her eyes immediately widened.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she said.

“I need to pose a serious threat to force Lau to give me back my family’s money. That’s the only way I can think of.”

Mei-ling looked stunned. She laid her head down on my chest like she couldn’t bear to look at me anymore.

“Forget about it,” I said as I stroked her hair. “I have you back – that’s all I want. I’ll take care of the rest somehow – ”

“Alright,” she murmured.

“Alright, what?”

“I can help you,” she said quietly.

I reached down, put a finger under her chin, and tilted her head up to look at me. “You don’t have to.”

“I know. But I will.”

“You have contacts who can get what I need?”

“Yes. On one condition.”

“What?”

“That you take me with you when you leave Hong Kong.”

I stared at her in surprise. “You’d leave everything you’ve built here? Your business – your entire life?!”

“Yes.”

I frowned. “If you want to leave so badly, why haven’t you done it?”

“…it’s complicated.”

“I have time.”

Mei-ling sighed. “Well, first there’s my father. Even though he disowned me, I’m not sure he would let me leave. I think he’s hoping I’ll abandon De Sade and come crawling back to him someday.”

“He has contacts at the airports and train stations?”

“He has contacts everywhere,” she said bitterly. “I’m pretty sure he’s still having me watched.”

“But you could just drive into China and fly out of another city.”

“I also owe a lot of money to investors in De Sade. If I were to disappear, they might come looking for me.”

“So?”

“Do you think ordinary businessmen would invest millions of dollars into a BDSM club?”

“…ah.”

“Exactly. You wanted to know if I had contacts on the black market. Well – that’s how I got them.”

“I see.” I stroked her hair. “I don’t want to put you in danger.”

“Everything in my life put me in danger before I even met you, and it will continue that way whether I help you or not. So if I help you, I want you to help me.”

“Help you escape.”

“Exactly.”

“Alright – I’ll take you with me when I leave Hong Kong… but I have a condition of my own.”

She peered deep into my eyes. “What?”

“That when I take you with me… you stay with me.”

A smile slowly spread across her face. “That’s a condition I’ll gladly accept.”

I kissed her –

And then gently rolled her onto her back and made love to her again.

51

After a few hours’ sleep, we got up, showered together, and ate breakfast. Once dressed, we set out on our mission with Mei-ling driving the Bentley.

My clothes were a damp, rumpled mess, so Mei-ling dropped by the Continental. She said she would stay in the Bentley while I went inside and changed.

“Should I wear my hoodie and jeans for this?” I asked.

“Good God, no,” she said in a deadpan voice. “He’ll at least think you’re serious if you wear a suit. In that other get-up, you look like a terrible undercover cop.”

I laughed and asked, “How much money will I need?”

“I have no idea. Half a million Hong Kong, at least.”

Which was about $60,000 US.

“We’ll have to drop by the bank,” I said.

“Alright.”

Back in my room, I quickly changed into fresh clothes. On my way back to the lobby, I dropped my wrinkled suit with housekeeping to be dry-cleaned.

Ten minutes later, we were at the bank.

Ten minutes after that, I walked out with a million Hong Kong dollars in my pocket. I’d withdrawn twice as much as I thought I would need just to be safe.

I was used to handling a lot of money, but strolling around with $120,000 US in my pocket was a bit unsettling, even for me.

Now things were about to get interesting.

We drove into Wan Chai, the seedy nightlife district of Hong Kong. It was crammed to the gills with nightclubs, bars, and general tackiness. According to Mei-ling, Wan Chai also hosted the city’s red light district.

Judging by all the neon signs, Wan Chai probably resembled a small-scale version of Macau at night. But at 10:30 in the morning, everything just looked shabby and grungy.

We parked in a somewhat reputable-looking garage and exited onto the street.

Puddles of rain still lingered from the night before. The air was suffocating with humidity and the stink of garbage and fried food.

Despite the sun being high in the sky, the discotheques and nightclubs were still going strong. Muted bass notes thumped through blacked-out windows and vibrated the air.

The sidewalks were crammed with locals going about their daily business, along with a few Westerners who stumbled out of the clubs, bleary-eyed and drunk.

“This way,” Mei-ling said as she led me down the sidewalk.

“Who are we going to see?”

“A man who can get you almost anything.”

She didn’t offer his name, so I didn’t ask.

“How do you know him?”

“He supplies me with cocaine for some of my richest clients at De Sade.”

“And you think he’ll have what I want?”

“If he doesn’t have it, he can get it. And if he can’t get it, I doubt you’d find it anywhere in Hong Kong.”

We entered a grungy-looking noodle shop. Plastic tables and chairs crowded the dirty linoleum. Locals slurped down bowls of noodles which, despite the shabby surroundings, smelled delicious.

Mei-ling wore a modest cream-colored dress, but she was so beautiful that she still turned heads. I supposed it didn’t help that she was followed by an Italian in an expensive suit.

Mei-ling called out something in Cantonese to one of the cooks behind the counter. He pointed at the rear of the shop, and we walked through a curtain made of strands of cheap plastic beads.

In the back, across from a food pantry full of giant aluminum cans, was a cheap wooden door. Mei-ling knocked on it three times.

A gruff voice called out in Chinese – most likely Who is it?

“Chan Mei-ling,” she answered.

The voice became much friendlier. Come in!

We entered a tiny office with fake wood paneling. The rickety desk was covered with stacks and stacks of credit cards – either stolen or fakes, I couldn’t be sure. An overflowing ashtray sat among the cards, and the stench of stale smoke filled the air.

Behind the desk sat a thin man with a cigarette dangling from his lips, an inch of ash about to fall off. He wore a black long-sleeve shirt, and his shaggy haircut hung down in his eyes. His age was indeterminate – maybe mid-30s, possibly early 40s – but there was a hardness in his expression that I recognized from career criminals back in Italy.

He looked up. When he saw Mei-ling, he smiled and said something in Cantonese.

Then he saw me and immediately started shouting.

Mei-ling yelled back at him, and the man lapsed into sullen silence.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“He thought you were a cop.”

“No policeman dresses like this.”

“That’s what I told him.”

The man started speaking Cantonese –

“English,” Mei-ling said sternly.

The man glared at her, then scowled at me.

“What you want?” he asked in a thick accent.

“I need a gun,” I said. “A pistol.”

“And a good one,” Mei-ling interjected. “Not the normal pieces of crap you sell.”

“Everything I sell good,” the man snapped.

“Riiiight,” Mei said sarcastically.

“For you I do this,” he said, pointing at her. “Now we even.”

“You owe me at least half a dozen favors,” she replied in a bored voice. “Actually – since I’m sure you’ll overcharge him – now you owe me another one.”

The man grumbled, then looked at me.

“You want revolver? Semi-automatic?” A smirk spread across his face. “Automatiiiic?” he asked in an insinuating voice like he was offering me something particularly naughty.

“A revolver or semi-automatic is fine. What do you have?”

The man divided the credit cards on his desk with his forearms like Moses parting a miniature plastic Red Sea.

Once he’d cleared off a spot, he opened a drawer and began placing pistols one by one on the desk.

The first was one I’d never seen before: a pistol with a five-point star stamped into the grip.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Black Star pistol. Chinese military. Good gun.”

He pulled out a Glock 17, a Sig P226, a Colt 1911, and a Colt Python revolver. All excellent guns, all in fairly good shape despite a few nicks and scratches.

“How much?”

“Fifty,” he said, pointing to the Black Star. Then he pointed at the others in the order he’d laid them out. “Sixty, sixty, sixty, seventy.”

“That’s Hong Kong dollars?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Sixty thousand Hong Kong was about $7500 US.

A Glock 17 sold for around $300 in the United States. I could have gotten it on the black market in Italy for 2000 euros – roughly $2100 US.

But he wanted me to pay three-and-a-half times that.

“Sixty thousand is expensive,” I said.

“Expensive?!” the gun merchant snapped. He pointed at the guns one by one. “Fourteen years. Fourteen, fourteen, fourteen, fourteen. That expensive.”

He meant fourteen years in jail if he was caught with them.

“Point taken,” I said.

I reached for the Glock, but Mei-ling grabbed my hand.

“Gloves,” she said testily to the merchant.

The man smirked, reached into his desk, and pulled out two latex gloves – the type a nurse would use in a hospital.

“If you don’t buy it,” Mei-ling told me, “you don’t want your prints on a gun he ends up selling to a street thug.”

Smart.

I put on the gloves, picked up the Glock, and ran through the tests that Lars had taught me when I was training with our family’s foot soldiers.

I pulled out the magazine and racked the slide, ejecting the round in the chamber.

“It’s dangerous to store it like that,” I said.

The gun merchant shrugged. “Life dangerous.”

I peered into the chamber for any sign of rust; there was none.

I checked the firing pin, which seemed fine.

I pulled the trigger several times to check the gun’s action. Everything seemed to be functioning properly.

I reloaded the magazine, pushed it back into place, and jacked a round into the chamber.

Everything seemed good.

“I’ll take it,” I said.

“Good gun, yes?” the man asked with a smirk.

“Very nice.”

The man looked at Mei-ling like Told you so, then held out his hand to me. “Sixty thousand.”

I pulled out a small number of bills from my pocket so he couldn’t see everything I had. Once I counted out 60 individual thousand-dollar bills, I handed them over and pocketed the remainder.

He grinned as he shoved the money in his desk. “Nice doing business with you.”

“I need something else,” I said as I stowed the Glock inside my jacket.

“What?”

When I told him, his eyes got big as saucers.

“You serious?” he asked, stunned.

“Yes.”

He looked at Mei-ling and asked her something in Cantonese.

“Yes,” she replied in English. “He knows what he’s asking for.”

“Don’t have it,” the man said gruffly.

“Can you get it, though?” I asked.

“…yes.” A crafty smile spread over his face. “But very expensive.”

“How much?”

He paused like he was trying to figure out how much he should gouge me.

“800,000 Hong Kong,” he finally said.

$100,000 US.

Jesus.

However, considering that a pistol cost $7500, it was probably a reasonable amount of money. Once you factored in his fee as the middleman, anyway.

I figured if I accepted the first bid, he would take me for a sucker and try to wrangle more money out of me later. Unexpected costs, unforeseen obstacles, etcetera, etcetera.

“600,000,” I offered.

“800,000!” he barked.

“700.”

He looked at me sideways. “750. Final offer.”

“Fine,” I snapped, pretending to be irritated.

He smiled in self-satisfaction, then held out his hand. “Need money now.”

“No. You’ll get the money when I have the product.”

He started yelling at Mei-ling.

She snarled back at him in Cantonese, then turned to me. “He’ll need at least 500 upfront.”

“And the rest is your finder’s fee,” I said sardonically.

“Know right people cost money,” he shot back.

I couldn’t argue with that.

I pulled out the rest of my cash.

He watched greedily as I counted out 500 bills and placed them in his palm.

“Come back two hours, I have it.”

“Thank you.”

He and Mei-ling exchanged words in Cantonese, and she led me out of the office.

“That went well,” I said.

“Moderately well,” she agreed. “We’ll see what happens in two hours, though.”

52

We locked the pistol in the Bentley’s glove compartment and then found a more upscale restaurant than the noodle shop.

Though it was only 11 AM, we ordered fried rice with pork belly and wok-fried beef with vegetables.

As we ate, Mei-ling asked, “What’s the plan?”

“I don’t know yet.”

She looked stunned. “You asked him to get you THAT, and you don’t have a plan to use it?!”

“It’s the nuclear option. In case everything else fails.”

“Well, yes, I’d rather hoped it wouldn’t be your opening gambit.”

I chuckled. “Definitely not the opening gambit.”

“So what’s the opening gambit, then?”

“I’ll call Lau and see if he’s arranged the meeting yet.”

“When did you check with him last?”

“About a week ago.”

“What?! I thought this was urgent!”

“It is.”

“Then why haven’t you talked to him in – oh,” she said, suddenly realizing the answer:

I’d been stalking her all that time with no other thought besides getting her back.

I gave her an ironic half-smile. “I was a little preoccupied.”

She shook her head. “You were pretty far gone over me, weren’t you.”

I reached across the table for her hand. “Still am.”

She smiled as I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed it.

Two hours later, we went back to the noodle shop.

When we walked through the beaded curtain, Mei-ling knocked on the door.

“We’re back,” she called out.

“Come in,” the gun merchant replied.

We walked in to find him looking more stressed than last time.

He took a heavy drag on his cigarette, then held out his hand. “Rest of money.”

“You have it?” I asked.

“Yes. Rest of money.”

I took out the remaining bills and counted out 250 on the desk.

He grabbed the cash, stuffed it in his desk, and pulled out a Styrofoam takeout container secured with rubber bands. After he removed the rubber bands, he opened the lid.

Inside was a rectangular block of light brown putty, about 11 inches long and 2 inches high and thick.

A metal box about half the size of a pack of cigarettes was duct-taped to the putty. Two wires with metal prongs protruded from the box.

C4 plastic explosive.

I’d seen some during my training with Lars, so I knew I was looking at the real thing.

“Jesus,” Mei-ling whispered behind me.

Next to the block of putty sat a hand-held metal grip with a straight section and a hinged lever jutting off at 45 degrees.

It looked like something a fitness nut might use to exercise his hand muscles –

Except for the small key inserted into the side and a green light that was currently dark.

“How do I arm it?” I asked.

“Put these in,” the man said as he pantomimed sticking the metal prongs into the block of putty. He didn’t actually insert them, though. “Put both in or not go off. Next, turn key.”

He turned the key on the handle, and the green light came on.

“Once light on, squeeze handle – boom.”

He turned the key back to its initial setting and the light went out.

“What if I want it so that if I let go of the handle, it detonates the C4?” I asked.

He frowned, then asked Mei-ling something in Cantonese.

“A dead man’s switch,” she suggested in English.

“Yes,” I agreed.

The gun merchant nodded.

While the light was still off, he squeezed the hinged lever so it was right next to the handle. Then he turned the key again so the light came on.

“Do this. When light on, you let go of handle – boom.”

He immediately rotated the key so the light turned off. Only then did he relax his grip.

He placed the detonator in the Styrofoam container next to the putty, closed the lid, and secured everything with rubber bands so nothing could fall out. “One thing.”

“What?”

“You get caught – not get it from me,” he said gravely.

“Agreed.”

He handed me the Styrofoam container and glared at Mei-ling. “Now we even.”

She nodded. “Now we’re even.”

53

On the drive back to the Continental, Mei-ling seemed nervous.

I could hardly blame her. If a pistol meant 14 years in prison, I was fairly sure that a block of C4 could get you life – or a death sentence.

She pulled the Bentley into the circular drive in front of the hotel and said, “I have to go into work.”

Hidden behind her sunglasses, her eyes were inscrutable.

“I want to see you tonight,” I said.

She paused as though calculating. “How about 10 PM?”

“10 PM it is. Meet you at the Summit?”

“Sounds good.”

I took her hand in mine. “Thank you for helping me.”

She looked at me for a few seconds, then finally took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were filled with worry.

“Please don’t make me regret this,” she said quietly.

“I won’t.”

“…alright.” She leaned forward and kissed me. “Now get out of my car before you get me thrown in jail.”

I laughed, kissed her again, and exited the Bentley holding the Styrofoam container.

She waved as she drove off.

Once she was gone, I walked into the lobby.

As I headed for the elevator, my heart sped up –

But no one approached me. No one commented on how odd it was that a man in a $20,000 suit was carrying a cheap Styrofoam container secured with rubber bands.

I made it back to my room without incident and heaved a sigh of relief.

Now – what to do with my new toys?

I went to the closet by the bathroom where I stored my suitcase. It was sitting on top of an expandable luggage rack, the kind that folds up when not in use.

I opened the top of my suitcase, placed the Styrofoam container on my folded socks and underwear, and felt in the bottom corner of the suitcase’s silk lining.

Ah – there.

I found the plastic seal, similar to one on a Ziploc bag, and forced it apart with one finger.

In order to pass through x-ray machines undetected, the fastener couldn’t be Velcro, buttons, or a zipper.

Even plastic could be detected if an x-ray tech was looking for it, but plastic was far better than the other options.

The silk lining was attached to the suitcase with elastic, which was stretchy enough for me to pull the lining up and expose the lead smuggling compartments.

I pried the tightly wedged tops off of both, then placed the block of C4 in one container. I had to cram the putty in to make it fit.

I wrapped the detonator in a sock so it wouldn’t rattle and wedged it into the other compartment.

There was no room for the gun; it would have to stay out in the open.

I wrapped it in my hoodie and used the rubber bands from the Styrofoam container to keep everything in place.

Bundled up like that, the gun wouldn’t make a noise if it shifted inside my suitcase.

I put the tops back on the smuggling compartments and resealed the silk lining.

To a casual observer, no one would know there was enough plastic explosive inside my suitcase to take out the entire penthouse suite.

After securing my new ‘toys,’ I called Lau.

His secretary informed me he wasn’t available and put me through to his voicemail.

“Mr. Lau, it’s Roberto Rosolini. I’m checking on the status of the meeting. Please call me.”

Then I hung up.

I knew what I should do next… but I was dreading it.

I had only texted Niccolo terse replies over the last week. Now it was time to face the music.

I thought he would be furious with me…

But I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Niccolo picked up on the first ring.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a panicked voice.

“Yes – why?” I asked in alarm.

“I was worried Fausto might have gotten to you.”

“No, I’m fine – what’s going on?”

“Massimo, Adriano, and Lars are going after Aurelio and a bunch of Russian mercenaries in Venice.”

“WHAT?!”

Niccolo gave me the short version:

Massimo had been lying low in the Alps with the Widow’s granddaughter, but a bounty hunter had flushed them out of hiding.

After nearly killing Massimo, the bounty hunter kidnapped the girl and took her back to Venice.

Now Massimo, Adriano, and Lars were storming the island where Aurelio was holding her hostage.

“Jesus,” I whispered.

Guilt gnawed at my guts. I had spent the last week pursuing my own selfish obsessions; now my brothers and Lars were putting their lives on the line for the family.

“Come home,” Niccolo pleaded.

“I will,” I promised. “Money or no money, I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“Do I need to make arrangements?”

“No, I’ll handle it. Just – don’t worry. I’ll be home within 24 hours.”

“Alright.”

“Let me know what happens with Massimo, Adriano, and Lars. Good or bad.”

“I will. Good luck.”

Then he hung up.

Good luck.

I felt ashamed. It was my brothers who needed the luck – not me.

I forced myself to put my emotions aside and prepare to go home.

Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be coming back with the money.

My only consolation was that I wouldn’t be going back alone.

54

Ibegan calling private jet brokers.

After the tenth ‘no,’ I finally got a ‘yes’ –

But it was a pricey one.

“I can have a plane for you in Hong Kong tomorrow morning at 11 AM,” the broker told me. “But it’ll be $500,000 US.”

“That’s highway robbery!” I snapped.

“They have to shift two other flights around to make it work, which is extremely inconvenient. Do you want it or not?”

“…yes,” I said through gritted teeth.

“They also want the money upfront.”

I had a dozen credit cards with multi-million-dollar limits.

Four months ago, I could have paid without a second thought.

But while trying to keep the family’s finances afloat, I had maxed out every single one. Even my American Express Black Card would balk at adding another $500,000 to the tab I owed.

But there was another possible solution.

“Do they take Bitcoin?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Give me their payment information.”

Bitcoin wallets – accounts that sent and received Bitcoin – had alphanumeric ‘addresses’ that could be anywhere from 26 to 90 digits. The jet company’s was only 36.

I wrote down the string of letters and numbers and read it back to the broker. Once he confirmed the address, I told him I would call back when the transfer was complete.

I immediately opened up the Coinbase app on my phone. Coinbase was one of the largest international exchanges for cryptocurrency trading, and my account with them had the most money out of all the crypto accounts I’d opened six months ago.

After entering my password, I sent the jet company $500,000 worth of Bitcoin.

One of the benefits of Bitcoin was that it took very little time to process a transaction. An international wire transfer could take one to five days – but with Bitcoin, the recipient usually got their funds within 15 to 30 minutes.

I called the broker back and sent him a screenshot of the transaction.

“Okay, I’ll forward this to the client and send you a confirmation when they get the funds.”

“Excellent. Call me if there are any problems.”

As soon as I hung up, I texted Niccolo.

Arranged jet – leaving Hong Kong tomorrow morning at 11 AM local time.

Nic texted me back a thumbs-up.

Any word from Venice? I texted.

Not yet.

Let me know.

He sent me another thumbs-up.

Now I had to call Mei-ling and tell her we would leave tomorrow morning.

My stomach twisted slightly as I wondered whether she still wanted to go.

Of course she does.

In exchange for helping you get the gun and C4, she made you promise to take her with you.

Why WOULDN’T she go?

My fears were irrational, but they still made my guts churn as I called her cell.

She didn’t answer, so I left a message.

“Something’s come up, so I had to book a flight leaving Hong Kong tomorrow morning at 11 AM. I want you to go with me… and I just need to confirm you still want to come. We can talk about it tonight.” My voice softened as I smiled. “I’ll see you at 10 o’clock.”

Then I hung up.

My nervousness got the best of me, and I began pacing back and forth.

My thoughts flitted from one thing to the next:

My brothers and Lars…

Mei-ling…

And my failure to get our family’s money back from the Syndicate.

I began to fret over what we would do –

How we would survive the next few months –

And then I reminded myself that Massimo, Adriano, and Lars might not survive the day.

Next to that, my worries about the money were self-serving and ego-driven.

There is nothing to cut through bullshit like the threat of losing your loved ones.

As my mother told me repeatedly before her death from cancer:

If you have problems that can be solved with money, Roberto, then you don’t have any REAL problems.

I didn’t agree with her at the time – but after she died, I finally understood her wisdom.

The threat of losing Massimo, Adriano, and Lars just confirmed it.

Suddenly, my phone rang.

I pulled it out, expecting the jet broker or perhaps Mei-ling –

And was surprised to see who was calling.

“Mr. Lau. Hello.”

“Mr. Rosolini.”

I assumed he was going to put me off again, so I asked in a weary voice, “Any news?”

“Yes, actually. Mr. Gota and Mr. Xi both arrived in Hong Kong earlier today. They’re eager to discuss your family’s funds. Can you meet us here at the Syndicate in one hour?”

My stomach felt like it dropped out of my body.

Finally – at the very last minute – I was within reach of my goal.

This meeting would be make-or-break.

My family’s entire future might depend on it.

That is, if my brothers and Lars survived the mission in Venice.

I glanced at the clock in my room.

3:37 PM.

“That would be – yes, I can definitely be there in an hour.”

“Good. I can have Mr. Han pick you up, or you can take a town car from the hotel.”

“I’ll take a town car, thank you.”

“Excellent. We’ll see you in an hour.”

As soon as Lau hung up, I went to the closet and looked at my suitcase.

Take it with me, or not?

If the meeting didn’t go my way, the suitcase’s contents would be my only leverage.

But if Lau’s men searched the bag and found the gun, I would be screwed.

And if they found the C4…

Powerful Yakuza and triad bosses wouldn’t take kindly to my bringing plastic explosives to a meeting.

After a brief deliberation, I decided to leave the suitcase in my room.

If they refused to give me the money, I could figure out what to do when I returned to the hotel.

I’d been willing to leave Hong Kong without the funds…

So maybe it was best to just let it go.

I took a deep breath and repeated to myself silently, Everything will be fine.

As though receiving confirmation from the universe, my phone buzzed with a text.

Jet company just got the half mil in Bitcoin. You’re all set for 11 AM tomorrow at Hong Kong International, Hanger 32.

I smiled.

Everything will be just fine.

55

On the way to the meeting, I texted Niccolo.

About to meet with Lau and the other partners. Wish me luck.

He texted back the Italian phrase, In culo alla balena.

Which literally translates as, In the ass of the whale.

It’s an Italian way of saying ‘good luck’ – similar to ‘break a leg.’

I smiled and texted back the traditional reply:

Speriamo non caghi.

Which means I hope it doesn’t shit.

We Italians love our dark humor.

Then I texted, Anything from Venice?

Not yet. I’ll let you know.

I rapidly typed my reply:

Text me even if you don’t hear from me. I’ll probably be in the meeting for a while.

He texted back a thumbs-up.

Then I called Mei-ling. She didn’t answer, so I left another message.

“I haven’t heard back from you yet, and I need to confirm you’re okay to leave with me tomorrow morning. I won’t be able to answer your call for the next hour, so text me your answer, okay? Alright – I’ll talk to you soon.” I paused, then added, “I love you.”

I texted her the exact same thing.

I waited, hoping to see the three dots that would let me know she was reading and responding –

But nothing appeared besides Message delivered.

I reluctantly put away my phone and mentally prepared for what lay ahead.

The town car dropped me off at the Syndicate building at 4:22.

I immediately made my way to the express elevator.

Han was there to greet me when the door opened on the 70th floor.

His face was as expressionless as always –

At least the times when he was sober.

There were no pleasantries or greetings. Instead, it was straight down to business.

“I have to frisk you,” he informed me.

I frowned. “Why?”

“Xi and Gota requested it.”

That made sense. Niccolo and Lars would never allow a stranger into a room with Dario until they’d been searched for weapons.

I consented to the pat-down by raising my arms.

Han quickly and expertly checked my jacket, pockets, and legs for weapons.

Thank God I hadn’t brought my luggage with me.

After Han was through, he led me through the doorway into the maze of offices – and finally to the boardroom, which I’d never seen before.

It was big enough to accommodate a mahogany table for 20 people – ten to a side, with plenty of room to spare.

Strangely enough, though, there were only four chairs:

One on my side and three on the other.

Sitting on the table was a black office phone with a panel of buttons.

Behind the table, one entire wall of the boardroom was glass. Beyond it was a stunning view of Hong Kong Harbor.

But the table and the window were not the only imposing things in the room.

A dozen men were standing around in groups.

Most of them were in their mid-20s or early 30s. All of them wore black suits with white shirts and black ties.

I immediately realized that they weren’t investors.

They were Xi and Gota’s men.

Gangsters.

My stomach twisted.

I immediately wished I had granted Giorgio’s request and brought him and our other foot soldiers to Hong Kong.

Not because of their guns –

But to balance out my disadvantage in numbers.

One against twelve was intimidating. Even if everything remained civil and aboveboard, the psychological advantage was firmly in the other side’s favor.

When Han and I entered the room, Lau – who was speaking with Gota and Li – saw me.

“Ah, good – the guest of honor is here. Let’s begin. Mr. Rosolini, if you’ll sit there, please.”

Lau gestured to the lone seat on my side of the table.

I pulled back the chair and uneasily sat down.

Lau sat directly opposite me, with Gota to his left and Xi to his right.

The other men in the room – including Han – stood in a row behind the three principal investors, stretching from one end of the conference table to the other.

I felt like a condemned man facing judge, jury, and multiple executioners all at the same time.

“Mr. Rosolini,” Lau said, flashing his grandfatherly smile. “You know Mr. Gota and Mr. Xi.”

Gota, the Yakuza boss, was about 50. He looked like a cadaverous wax museum statue with slightly bulging eyes. Unlike his underlings, he was dressed in a grey three-piece suit.

Xi was triad. About 65, he had a fleshy, dour face. He, too, dressed differently from his underlings in a navy blue suit.

Gota gave me an unpleasant smile – like a crocodile sizing up a monkey he wanted to eat.

Xi just gazed at me with dead, emotionless eyes.

“Gentlemen, thank you for coming.” I looked at Lau and tried to keep an accusatory tone out of my voice. “Did you not invite any other investors?”

I knew at least half a dozen other people had given the Syndicate as much money as I had.

Lau smiled. “You said that you thought Mr. Xi and Mr. Gota would understand your situation better, seeing as you are all in the same ‘line of business.’ So that we might speak freely, I decided it best to limit the meeting to just you and them.”

I didn’t like it – fewer investors meant Xi and Gota had outsized power in how they voted – but I had to admit it was sound logic.

“Good,” I lied. “Gentlemen, I asked Mr. Lau to invite you here because – ”

“He informed us of your request,” Xi interrupted in a monotone voice. His English was impeccable. “You want your money back.”

I tried to hide my irritation. “And did he communicate why I need it back?”

“Something about family problems.”

I looked at Lau. “That’s certainly one way of putting it.”

Lau smiled. “I decided to be delicate in case anyone was listening in.”

I assumed by ‘anyone’ he meant Hong Kong law enforcement.

I turned back to Xi. “For 25 years, my father headed up our family business. Eight months ago, he died of what my brothers and I thought were natural causes.

“Now we’ve discovered that my uncle – who was my father’s right-hand man for those same 25 years – had him poisoned. We discovered the truth three weeks ago, shortly before my uncle tried to have two of my brothers assassinated.

“My family is at war, gentlemen. You’ve undoubtedly experienced similar situations in your long careers. Perhaps not with family members, but certainly with rivals. As a result, I’m sure you can appreciate one fact: war is expensive.

“Unfortunately, when my uncle moved against us, he also attacked us financially, embezzling over 25 million euros worth of funds. I need the money I invested with the Syndicate so my family can fight my uncle and win.

“I assure you, this is nothing more than a temporary measure. My family and I want to continue our business arrangement with the Syndicate. When we reinvest – if you allow us to – we would be more than willing to accept any new terms that are more advantageous to you.”

The Yakuza boss spoke next. Gota’s English was slightly more accented than Xi’s, but still excellent.

“You are Cosa Nostra, yes?” he asked with that unnerving smile.

“Yes.”

“The Cosa Nostra is from Sicily, an island off the coast of Italy, yes?”

“Correct.”

“It is my understanding that Sicilians are greatly feared in the Italian underworld.”

“They have a certain reputation, yes.”

“Yet you are from Florence.”

“Just outside Florence, in the countryside of Tuscany.”

I had no idea where Gota was going with this, but I needed his vote, so I did my best to humor him.

“How is it that a Sicilian criminal organization is in Tuscany?” Gota asked.

“The Italian government has tried to wipe out the Cosa Nostra for many years. They began a purge starting in the 1980s that continued through the next decade.

“Long before the purge started, certain families in the Cosa Nostra saw the writing on the wall. They knew what was coming, so they spread to other parts of Italy – much the same way the Cosa Nostra went to the United States in the early 20th century – and secretly worked to gain control over the major cities.

“My grandfather came over from Sicily and established a base of operations in Tuscany. From there, he expanded our family’s organization into Florence. When he died, he passed control to my father. My family is just one of many, all originally from Sicily, that control different parts of Italy.”

“So your grandfather was Sicilian,” Gota said.

“Correct.”

“I am assuming your father was Sicilian?”

“Yes.”

“And your uncle – he is Sicilian, as well?”

“He is.”

“Are you Sicilian?”

“I’m half-Sicilian. My mother was from Florence.”

“Florence was the city of the Medicis, was it not? A banking family?”

I was beginning to tire of the history lesson, but I continued to play along. “Yes. The Medicis not only bankrolled popes, they were patrons of the arts. We wouldn’t have Michelangelo’s David or Botticelli’s Birth of Venus without the Medicis.”

“So which are you, Mr. Rosolini? A Medici… or a Sicilian?”

Ah.

I assumed he was concerned whether we would actually have the balls to win against Fausto.

“I can assure you, Mr. Gota, I am Sicilian when I need to be, and a Medici when it is appropriate.”

“So you are, in fact, a half-breed.”

After my initial shock, I narrowed my eyes and glared at him. “Excuse me?”

Gota continued smiling as he insulted me. “What is the English expression? ‘Neither fish nor fowl’? Why would we back a half-breed banker against a full-blooded Sicilian?”

As soon as he said that, my stomach filled with ice water, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt –

Niccolo had been right.

I looked at Lau. “You sided with my uncle, didn’t you.”

Lau smiled. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

He punched a button on the phone, and a familiar voice spoke over the speaker.

“Hello, nephew.”

56

In that one instant, my entire world spun out of control.

All my calculations, all my hopes –

Gone.

At that moment, I bitterly regretted not bringing the suitcase filled with C4.

When I didn’t answer, Fausto asked, “Il gatto ti ha mangiato la lingua?”

The Italian equivalent of, Cat got your tongue?

“Hello… Uncle,” I said with undisguised hatred.

“Now, now, Roberto, don’t be cross just because you got outplayed. Although, I must admit I AM disappointed. I didn’t expect you to have Niccolo’s cunning, but I DID expect you to be a bit more cautious.”

I glared at Lau. “When did you decide to betray me?”

“Betray you?” Lau said, then chuckled. “No one has betrayed you. This is an ongoing negotiation.”

I frowned in confusion. “What?”

Lau smiled. “Not that your uncle didn’t try to make us a better offer.”

“You should be thanking Mr. Lau, Nephew,” Fausto said. “I said I’d let him keep your 50 million euros if he’d just kill you… but he said no.”

“Oh, thank you so very much,” I said sarcastically to Lau.

The old man’s smile never wavered. “You’re welcome.”

Bastard.

“Fifty million wasn’t enough?” I asked coldly.

“Apparently not,” Fausto said.

Lau gestured to the phone. “I informed your uncle that this is a Cosa Nostra matter, and we do not wish to become involved. If we killed you, and then your brothers defeated your uncle, your brothers would undoubtedly come after us for revenge. We have no desire for an international war. Not only that, if word got out that the Syndicate had murdered one of its investors, it would be bad for business.”

I laughed incredulously. “Bad for business.”

Lau smiled. “Yes.”

I glowered at him. “You must have cut some kind of deal because you’ve done nothing but stall me for the last three weeks.”

Lau shrugged. “We have no intention of unnecessarily incurring the wrath of either your brothers or your uncle – beyond the annoyance of not agreeing to either of your demands.”

On the speakerphone, I heard Fausto mutter something in Italian, though I couldn’t make out what he said. Then he spoke in English. “Excuse me, gentlemen, I have to take another call. The offer still stands, Mr. Lau.”

“I must regretfully decline,” Lau said with a smile.

“Hopefully not for too much longer. Goodbye, Nephew.”

“Fuck OFF, Uncle.”

Fausto laughed, then hung up the phone.

I stared angrily at Lau. “So if my uncle kills my brothers, then you’ll kill me.”

“That would seem to be the situation,” Lau said, as though he had nothing to do with it.

I pointed at Gota and Xi. “Why the charade, then? Why drag them to Hong Kong?”

“We had to confer and make a final decision about your situation.”

“What, you couldn’t do it over the phone?”

“This is not the sort of decision one makes over the phone. Besides, there is other business to attend to while they’re here.”

“So what’s your decision?” I asked sharply.

Lau smiled. “To wait and see.”

“‘Wait and see’?” I repeated incredulously. “What the hell does that mean?”

“We have been monitoring the situation back in Italy. I must admit, we expected your uncle to win quite handily, but your brothers proved surprisingly tenacious. We didn’t expect them to last longer than a week – yet here they are, still alive, standing toe-to-toe against your uncle.”

I turned to Gota and sneered, “My uncle, the full-blooded Sicilian.”

Gota just chuckled.

I turned back to Lau. “And what are you waiting to see, exactly?”

“Who wins. That is the side we will do business with.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “What are you talking about, ‘do business with’?”

“We negotiated with your uncle. Or I did, on the others’ behalf. I would not consent to kill you, in case your brothers were victorious – but I agreed to keep you here in Hong Kong and make sure your family didn’t have access to the funds. In return… if your brothers perish… then we will kill you, and Fausto will become an investor in the Syndicate in your stead.”

I stared at him. “And if my brothers win?”

Lau smiled. “Then our business arrangement will continue as though none of this unpleasantness ever happened.”

I stared at him as though he was insane. “You think I’ll continue to do business with you after you fucking stabbed me in the back?”

Lau held up his hands like What can you do? “It’s only business.”

“Surely you can understand that,” Gota said with a smirk, “since we’re all in the same line of business.”

I stared at them in impotent rage –

When the phone in my pocket buzzed with a text.

It was either Niccolo or Mei-ling, I was sure of it.

Either way, I had to know what they said.

“Excuse me,” I said, and pulled out my phone before Lau or the others could object.

I saw with the tiniest twinge of disappointment that it was Niccolo, not Mei-ling – but I eagerly read his message.

It was succinct but overwhelming.

We won but at a cost.

Massimo shot. Airlifted to hospital for surgery.

Lars and Adriano okay but most of our men are dead.

Widow’s granddaughter safe.

Aurelio is dead.

I stared at the message in shock.

Fear, grief, and hope all warred within me simultaneously.

“Mr. Rosolini?” Lau asked.

I looked up at him. “You’ve been monitoring Italy, you said?”

“Correct.”

“Then you know what happened in Venice today?”

Lau smiled. “Yes.”

“Do you read Italian?” I asked, preparing to show them Niccolo’s text if he did.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Then you’ll have to trust me when I tell you my brothers won,” I said coldly. “Not only that, but my cousin Aurelio – Fausto’s son – is dead.”

Lau’s smile disappeared.

“…I see,” he murmured.

“Are you sure you bet on the right side?” I sneered.

Suddenly, the phone on the conference table rang.

Lau frowned and punched a button.

A woman’s voice said something in Chinese, and Lau answered back.

The old man looked at me warily as he punched another button on the phone. “Hello?”

Uncle Fausto’s voice was strained and ragged with grief.

“Lau… keep the 50 million, and I’ll pay you 10 million more if you fucking kill him right now.”

57

My entire body tensed as I watched Lau.

Without looking away from my gaze, Lau answered calmly, “I am afraid that is impossible.”

“It’s NOT impossible! Just fucking KILL him!”

“I am afraid that is impossible,” Lau repeated.

“LISTEN TO ME – ”

“I already got a text from Niccolo, Uncle,” I said loudly. “You failed. Too bad Aurelio had to pay the price.”

There was a choking sound of rage on the other end.

A second later, Fausto seethed, “You’re dead, you little piece of shit – and your fucking halfwit brothers with you. I’ll send you all to hell myself.”

Then Fausto hung up.

I looked at Lau as he, Gota, and Xi stared back at me.

“Well, that was certainly dramatic,” I said. Then I forced a smile. “It seems, gentlemen, that the matter is resolved. So if you’ll – ”

“Nothing is resolved,” Xi broke in with his emotionless voice.

“My cousin is dead,” I snapped. “Fausto failed. The matter is resolved.”

“But your uncle is not dead,” Gota said.

I glared at him. “He will be.”

“But he is not yet.”

I stood up abruptly. “Fuck this – I’m leaving.”

“No,” Lau said softly, “you’re not.”

Every gangster behind Lau – including Han – pulled out a pistol.

They kept their guns pointed at the floor, but the message was clear:

Don’t try anything.

“You will continue to stay at the Continental Hotel as my guest, under guard, until the matter with your family is decided one way or the other,” Lau said. “Only then will you be permitted to leave Hong Kong. That is… if your brothers are victorious. If not, well…”

Lau smiled apologetically and shrugged.

Horror gripped me as I realized how utterly helpless I was –

But then I remembered what I had hidden back in my hotel room.

I decided to play along until I could return to the Continental and plot my next move.

A plane would be waiting for me tomorrow morning at Hong Kong International.

I just had to figure out how to get there on time.

“Very well,” I said coldly. “Then take me back to my room, because I’m done here.”

“When Mr. Han escorts you to the Continental,” Lau said, “you will kindly surrender what you purchased from Chaoxiang.”

I frowned. “Chao who?”

“The black market merchant you visited earlier today in Wan Chai.”

I stared at Lau in shock.

He knew.

But how?

“Did I purchase it from one of your underlings?” I asked bitterly, then turned to Xi. “Some triad flunky of yours?”

“No,” Xi said coldly.

“We found out from someone else,” Lau said.

Off my puzzled look, he continued.

“Haven’t you considered how easily I kept you here in Hong Kong the last three weeks? Yes, you nagged me the entire time, but you still stayed of your own volition. Why?”

“Because – ” I started, then stopped.

Horror filled me from head to toe. I felt like vomiting.

“Yes,” Lau said with a victorious smirk. “Because of someone you didn’t realize worked for me.”

I heard the door to the boardroom open behind me.

I turned to look, but I already knew with horrified certainty who I would see.

Flanked on either side by two gangsters, a woman entered the room.

She looked utterly ashamed and kept her eyes on the floor, refusing to meet my gaze.

“Allow me to introduce one of my most valuable employees,” Lau gloated, “Chan Mei-ling.”

PART II

58

Mei-ling

Iwas born the daughter of a Hong Kong triad boss.

But first you need to understand what ‘triad’ means.

There was once a Buddhist monastery called the Shaolin Temple. The monks were famous for their skill in martial arts – known in the West as ‘kung fu.’

In 1647, Manchurian invaders burned down the Shaolin temple and killed almost all of the monks.

That part is fact.

The rest is mostly legend.

The remaining monks dispersed throughout China and created secret societies to resist the Manchurians. The names of their groups evoked the triune relationship between heaven, earth, and man – hence ‘triads.’

Triad societies resisted invaders and tyrannical governments for the next 300 years. It was only when the Communists came to power that they met their match.

That’s the legend.

Here’s the reality:

By the early 20th century, triads were essentially gangs. Mao Zedong clamped down on them in 1949, and Deng Xiaoping went even further in 1978.

Facing extreme resistance from the government, most triad groups relocated to places outside mainland China – like Hong Kong, which was still controlled by the British.

Triad groups today are part of organized crime. There are literally dozens of them.

Their members are gangsters – extortionists, thieves, and murderers.

Like my father.

My father was a stern man. He always seemed to be angry about something. As a child, I mostly tried to stay out of his way.

I never saw him wear anything but long-sleeved dress shirts and suit jackets, even during the hottest months of summer. I always thought it was because he was a businessman; I didn’t find out until years later that he was hiding the gang tattoos on his arms.

My mother was quite beautiful. She was a socialite and threw exquisite parties for my parents’ rich friends. She was always busy, with little time for me or my brothers.

I was the youngest of three.

My oldest brother was quite studious. He wanted to be a doctor.

My next-oldest brother was a jock. He wanted to be a professional soccer player… or baseball player… or an MMA fighter. It changed from week to week.

Me?

I just wanted to be left alone.

I was a good student, but I was solitary and had no friends outside of school. I spent most of my time writing angsty poetry or watching movies on DVDs. I particularly loved heart-wrenching Korean dramas subtitled in Cantonese.

Control of Hong Kong reverted from the British to China in 1997. Because the communist government cracked down on entertainment from outside China, you couldn’t find Korean shows on TV or the internet.

However, my father somehow got DVD copies for me ‘from work.’

They were actually pirated bootlegs – just a tiny piece of the criminal empire my father oversaw.

My family was well-to-do, though not exorbitantly so. We lived in a gated community in the Peak, which is named for Victoria Peak, the highest point on Hong Kong Island.

The Peak is the most expensive neighborhood in all of Hong Kong. However, I went to private school with the children of tech millionaires, and my family certainly wasn’t as rich as them.

We owned expensive cars – but that was quite ordinary amongst my neighbors.

We had servants, but that was common, too.

The only odd thing was everyone else’s parents did something you could understand.

Most of them were bankers. There were some doctors, some lawyers, and a lot of old money.

I could tell people that my mother raised money for charities and threw parties.

But when they asked what my father did for a living, I could only reply, “He works in the city.”

When they asked Doing what, I would say, “I don’t know… but he gets me DVDs.”

That was all I knew about his job…

Until I was kidnapped.

59

It happened when I was 16 years old.

I’d been befriended by a girl at school named Jing. She had a much older boyfriend who was already out of high school, which made Jing seem both scandalous and very worldly.

One day, she told me her boyfriend could get us some weed, and would I like to go to his apartment and smoke some?

I’d never tried marijuana before. I’d never even smoked a regular cigarette – but I was beginning to go through the normal teenage phase of wanting to rebel for the sake of rebelling.

My life was a suffocating, never-ending loop between home and school. A chauffeur drove me to my private academy every day, then promptly brought me back home when classes were over.

My oldest brother had long since graduated and gone to university.

My other brother had been given his own car. He got up to all sorts of mischief and never got in trouble once, which galled me to no end.

Both of them seemed to have unlimited freedom.

I had none.

So of course I said yes when Jing asked if I wanted to smoke some weed.

I snuck out of my house on a Friday afternoon. The boyfriend picked me up in his Audi with Jing in the passenger seat.

He was 23; she was 16. Warning bells should have gone off when I discovered their age difference, but I was young and naïve. At the time, I just thought it made Jing cooler.

The boyfriend drove us into Wan Chai, the seediest neighborhood in Hong Kong.

I was thrilled and nervous all at once. Boys at school bragged about how they did coke in Wan Chai over the weekends – rich kids slumming it in the ghetto.

My mother had only mentioned Wan Chai in disapproving tones. My father never talked about it at all.

The boyfriend pulled into the garage of a run-down apartment building, the type of place that looked like it had rats running around in the alley out back.

I got frightened and asked to go home, but Jing berated me and told me to stop being ‘lame.’

I should have listened to my intuition.

When we parked and got out of the car, three grungy-looking men appeared out of nowhere. They wore short-sleeved shirts that exposed the gang tattoos on their arms.

One of them threw a burlap sack over my head and told me he would kill me if I screamed.

Petrified, I cooperated and allowed them to guide me to a car, at which point they shoved me inside the trunk and slammed it closed.

Only once the car was moving did I realize that my ‘friend’ had set me up. I’d never heard Jing or her boyfriend make any noise – almost like they were expecting the three men to show up.

The car drove for 20 minutes before it stopped. I was taken out of the trunk and guided blindly through a maze of hallways.

When they removed the burlap sack, I saw I was in a windowless room with a metal chair, a dirty mattress on the floor, a mound of rope, and an ancient toilet and sink.

My three captors were with someone else – a man in his mid-twenties. He was incredibly handsome, with black hair styled like a K-Pop star.

Unlike the other men, who were grimy and stank of stale cigarette smoke, the handsome stranger was clean and smelled of expensive cologne. He wore a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing half a dozen tattoos on his muscular forearms. He wore a loosely knotted tie under his open collar, and the shoulder harness at his side had a pistol in it. Outside of movies and television shows, I had never seen a gun before.

The K-Pop star gave the three grimy men a fat roll of money and told them to get the hell out.

Once they left, he turned to me.

“I’m sorry they scared you,” he said. “No one’s going to hurt you… but we have to keep you here for a while.”

I was so terrified by the situation – and dumbstruck at how handsome he was – that I didn’t even think to ask why I’d been taken.

“Are you thirsty?” he asked. “Hungry?”

“A little,” I whispered.

“Then I need you to sit in that chair.”

I complied.

“Now I have to tie you up,” he said, almost apologetically.

My entire body tensed as he began to tie me with the rope – but it wasn’t long before I felt another sensation:

Desire.

I had never been touched by a man before. I had barely even been hugged by my own parents since I was a child.

Now this handsome stranger was putting his hands on me…

And despite how scared I was…

I liked it.

He was very respectful. He didn’t touch my chest or grope me in any way.

When his hands did touch the bare skin of my arms and legs, he was very gentle.

As he tied the ropes, he continually asked, “Is that too tight?”

When I told him it hurt, he listened and made adjustments.

He looped the rope around my body, tying me to the chair… then used another length of rope to bind my wrists behind my back. Finally, he knelt down in front of me and smiled apologetically as he tied my ankles together.

For some stupid reason, I thought of Prince Charming kneeling before Cinderella as he put the glass slipper on her foot.

I was still wearing my skirt from school, with white stockings that only came halfway up my shins. Every time his hands brushed my legs, a shiver went up and down my spine.

Once he was finished, he stayed kneeling in front of me.

“No harm will come to you – I swear,” he said. “You’ll be safe, and this will all be over soon.

“However, don’t make any noise. We’re in a warehouse owned by my boss, so there’s no one around to hear you – but if you make noise, I’m going to have to put a gag on you, and I would prefer not to do that. So be quiet – okay?”

I swallowed and nodded my head.

He smiled as he stood. “Good girl. I’ll be back soon. Like I said, don’t make any noise and everything will be fine.”

Then he left the room. I heard the click of the lock behind him.

I was too scared to make a sound. I remained silent the entire time.

When he returned, he had a Coke can and a Styrofoam cup of instant ramen filled to the brim with piping hot water.

He untied me and let me eat.

He watched me closely until I finished, then took the empty containers away.

“Need to use the bathroom?” he asked.

I blushed.

He smiled. “I’ll be outside. Knock on the door once you’re finished.”

I peed, flushed, washed my hands, and knocked on the door.

When he came back in, he picked up the rope.

“Unfortunately, I have to tie you up again.”

Oddly enough, I didn’t mind.

So began the most erotic experience of my young life.

My handsome captor would tie me up several times a day. The rope he used was strong and soft – not slick plastic, but cotton.

And the way his fingers moved over my body… gently touching my hands as he bound them… firmly tying the knots around my ankles and wrists…

I began to relish the feel of the ropes sliding across my skin, and my heart quickened every time he began to tie me up.

He was always calm, gentle, and respectful –

And he was protective.

On the third day of my imprisonment, another man came into the room.

He looked more like the three men who had kidnapped me: scruffy, slightly greasy, and unkempt.

My handsome captor accompanied him into the room. The greasy man laughed when he saw me. “So this is the brat.”

My captor didn’t say anything. He just stood there impassively.

The greasy man leered suggestively at my captor. “I’ll bet you’ve been having some fun, eh?”

“I haven’t touched her,” he said angrily.

“Why not? You’re wasting a golden opportunity.”

The greasy man put a finger under my chin and tipped my head up to look at him. His hand stank of cigarette smoke.

When I pulled away from him, repulsed, he clamped his hand on my face and forced me to look at him.

“I’ll bet she’s tight,” the man said with a lecherous grin. “Real fuckin’ tight.”

“Get your hands off her,” my captor snapped.

“Don’t get your panties in a wad.”

Suddenly, there was the sound of a gun chambering a round –

ch-CHACK!

It was something I’d only heard in movies.

Both the greasy man and I looked over at my captor in surprise –

And saw that he’d drawn his pistol.

His gun was pointed at the floor…

But it was out.

“I said… get your hands OFF her,” my captor repeated.

My heart thudded in my chest.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” the greasy man sneered.

My handsome captor raised the gun slightly. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

“Fuck – fine, you stupid asshole!” the greasy man shouted as he pulled his hand away from my face. “There, happy? What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“You verified she’s here. Now get out,” my captor said in a steely voice.

The greasy man shook his head. “You’re a fuckin’ idiot, you know that?”

My captor took a step towards him –

“Alright, alright, I’m going, I’m going!” the greasy man barked. He muttered to himself as he walked out the door. “Fuckin’ moron, threatening me…”

Once he was gone, my captor shut the door, locked it, and turned back to me.

“I’m sorry about that,” he apologized. “He won’t come back here again. I promise.”

He was as good as his word.

Forty-eight more hours passed in a haze, with the handsome stranger tying and untying me.

We exchanged very few words. I was too afraid to ask why he was keeping me hostage, and he offered no explanations.

But he brought me food to eat…

Gave me privacy when I needed to use the restroom…

Woke me up in the morning…

Turned off the lights when it was time to go to bed…

Provided me with a washcloth and soap to clean myself with…

And even gave me a clean sheet to put over the filthy mattress.

But more than that, he tied me up at least three times a day…

The soft ropes tightening around my wrists and ankles…

His hands gently brushing against my skin.

My body reacted to his touch like a lover caressing me.

I began to long for when he would tie me up…

And I would fantasize about it long after he left me there, bound and helpless.

I was scared, yes…

But I was also enthralled.

Perhaps there was a bit of Stockholm Syndrome at play… but mostly it was the erotic charge of being touched for the first time by a handsome, protective, considerate man.

Then, on the sixth day, everything changed.

It was the afternoon. I was tied up, alone in the room, when distant gunshots rang out.

I immediately lifted my head, eyes wide.

There was yelling outside the door –

Then more gunshots, much closer.

The door banged open.

I shrieked as two men in black suits rushed into the room, guns pointed at me –

Followed by my father, who was also in a black suit.

His relief when he saw me was indescribable.

I had never seen that much emotion on his face, ever, unless you counted anger.

He knelt down and hugged me tight – another first – then backed up so he could look into my eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“No.”

He tried untying the knots but quickly became irritated. He barked at one of the gunmen, who handed him a knife, and sawed through the ropes until I was free.

“Come on,” he said as he put an arm around me and led me out of the room.

There were two dead men in the hallway, their limbs splayed out, blood splattered against the walls.

My father tried to shield my eyes from the carnage in the hallway –

But I turned to look behind us.

My handsome captor lay on the ground, his white shirt soaked crimson, his eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.

I began to scream.

I didn’t stop until ten minutes later, when they jabbed a needle in my arm and the world went dark.

60

Iwoke up when we arrived home.

My father was sitting next to me in the back of a town car. A man in a black suit was driving.

When we parked, my father led me gingerly inside.

My mother cried as she hugged me.

I just stood there like a zombie.

Afterwards, my mother took me into my room, undressed me, and put me to bed.

I didn’t come out for two whole days.

On the third day, I walked into my father’s study, still in my pajamas with a blanket wrapped around me.

He looked at me kindly, which was an unusual expression for him. “Are you alright?”

I nodded.

“Do you need anything?” my father asked.

“I want to know something.”

“What?”

“Why did they kidnap me?”

My father sighed deeply… then gestured at the chair opposite him.

I sat down, and he began to talk. To my surprise, he was quite forthcoming.

He asked me if I had ever heard the term ‘triad’ before.

When I told him I had only heard it mentioned in passing, he told me the legend about the monks and the Shaolin temple.

He told me how the triad societies had evolved throughout the centuries. That they had been one of the few places where a man could forge his own destiny.

Self-serving bullshit, though I didn’t know that at the time.

He said that he was the head of one of the most powerful triad groups in Hong Kong – and that a rival in another gang had kidnapped me to try to force my father to hand over territory.

Instead of giving in, my father found out where his enemies had taken me. Now I was safe, and his rival was dead.

“What about Jing?” I asked.

“Your friend?”

I nodded.

“She’s dead.”

I stared at him in horror. “You didn’t – ”

“No, her boyfriend did. He was an employee of my rival. Once she’d served her purpose, they couldn’t have her going to the police, so they killed her and hid her body in a dumpster. The police found her three days before we got to you.”

I sat there in shock.

“You don’t have to worry,” my father said. “No one will ever be able to get to you again. I’ll make sure of that.”

My father kept his promise.

My world, which had been tightly controlled before my kidnapping, became a prison.

I didn’t go back to school. Instead, my father hired people to teach me at home. Tutors for history, English, Chinese literature, biology, math…

I was never allowed out of the house unless one of my father’s triad soldiers accompanied me as a bodyguard.

The only privacy I had was in the relative peace of my bedroom…

Where I hid pieces of rope under my mattress.

I tied them around my wrists and ankles in the dead of night when everyone else had gone to sleep…

And imagined my handsome captor tightening the knots.

61

Two years after the kidnapping, my father finally relaxed his iron grip on my life.

After scoring high on entrance exams, I was allowed to go to university – but only as long as I remained in Hong Kong.

For the first two years, I was forced to live at home. I attended every class with a triad shadow – a man in a dark suit following me everywhere.

I fought with my father about it all the time.

“What are you going to do when I leave university?” I demanded.

“You’ll get married and move into your husband’s household.”

“And how am I supposed to meet this hypothetical husband?”

“I’ll arrange suitors for you.”

“No, you won’t – because I’m not going to get married!”

“Then I hope you like living here with your mother and me,” he replied coldly.

But after two years of fighting, I gradually wore him down.

I was allowed to have an apartment of my own.

I began to make friends…

And I began to date.

I started slowly, seeing one boy for six months before we finally slept together.

While it was nice, it was nothing compared to the erotic thrill of rope sliding across my skin in the privacy of my bedroom.

And my experiences with my boyfriend never even came close to the ecstasies I heard my female friends gossip about.

I broke up with him after a couple more months of unfulfilling sex.

I couldn’t have an orgasm on my own, either. The idea of masturbating felt foreign to me. The few times I attempted it, I didn’t enjoy it, so I stopped trying.

I went through a string of lovers, hoping to find what I so desperately wanted.

When I finally worked up the courage to ask my fourth boyfriend to tie me up, he made jokes about Fifty Shades Of Grey. Then he unenthusiastically tied my hands together before he shoved his dick inside me.

I dumped him the next day.

I read Fifty Shades, and while I liked it, I didn’t enjoy the parts about Christian hurting Anastasia. I only wanted the ‘bondage’ part of BDSM, not the sadism or masochism.

Although… there was something about Christian’s obsession with Ana that struck a deep chord inside me.

I began searching online to educate myself about what I liked.

I found a great deal of porn involving bondage, but most of it seemed geared towards male viewers. The women were often degraded and subjected to violence, which turned me off.

There was none of the soft, slow, gentle touching that my captor had demonstrated…

And none of the romantic obsession of Christian Grey.

I resigned myself to an unsatisfying sex life…

Until I went on vacation in Thailand.

It was the summer after I graduated from university with a degree in economics.

I was 22 years old.

The plan was to go to graduate school, during which time I would take a paid internship at a Hong Kong investment banking firm.

Before the internship began, I went on a month-long vacation to Thailand with my new boyfriend.

We met during the last semester of our senior year at university. We were both getting economics degrees, and we were both from well-to-do families.

He was good-looking… although sex with him was just as boring as it had been with previous boyfriends.

On several occasions, I tentatively asked if we could try something slightly spicier.

He always said, “Next time.”

Then we proceeded to have sex in the missionary position. It was usually over in four minutes.

By that point, though, I’d resigned myself to a life of what I thought was ‘regular sex,’ so I didn’t think too much about it.

We had been seeing each other for three months when my boyfriend suggested one last hurrah before we started work and graduate school. I agreed.

A week after graduation, we boarded a plane for Thailand (against my father’s wishes, which only made me want to do it more).

First, we visited a resort on an island with sapphire-blue water and sugar-white beaches.

Then we went to Patong, a tourist trap that looked like Las Vegas had vomited neon signs all over everything.

After that was Chiang Mai, a small city in the mountains of Thailand.

And finally, we ended up in the capital.

There’s an 80s song called ‘One Night in Bangkok’ that talks about how you can find any carnal delight you want in the city… but that it’s dangerous.

If anything, the song downplays the reality.

Every corner had massage parlors advertising ‘happy endings.’

Prostitutes – both women and ‘lady boys’ – were everywhere.

Every night, cab drivers asked us if we wanted to visit a sex club.

My boyfriend kept begging me to go.

“Just to look,” he pleaded.

I put him off for five days, then finally gave in on our last night in Bangkok.

Partially to stop his nagging…

But also because my curiosity finally overwhelmed me.

I also hoped we’d see something in the club we could do that would make our sex life a little more interesting.

When we asked our cab driver for a recommendation, he took us to a club called Thang Phes, which I later found out meant ‘sexual’ in Thai.

What happened that night changed the entire course of my life.

62

The club was huge, with nearly two dozen different rooms.

The front section wasn’t that unusual. After we paid the entrance fee, we walked down a dark hallway to an area with a bar, a dance floor complete with a disco ball and DJ, and tables where you could sit and drink.

The unusual thing was the number of people wearing nothing but terrycloth robes or lingerie.

There were fully dressed people, too, but not nearly as many.

“Come on,” my boyfriend said, and pulled me along to explore the rest of the dimly lit club.

Loud electronic music vibrated the air. On every wall hung signs in English, Thai, Spanish, French, Cantonese, Mandarin, and half a dozen other languages.

ALWAYS GET CONSENT.

YOU MUST PAY UP FRONT.

BE RESPECTFUL.

NO MEANS NO.

ALWAYS USE A CONDOM.

The first room we encountered was some sort of group sex area.

There were multiple leather ottomans in the center where people were fucking right out in the open in every conceivable position.

Men stood around getting blowjobs from naked women on their knees.

Over in the corner, half a dozen bodies were tangled together on a mattress.

Most of the men were Caucasian, although there were a few Asians, too.

Almost all of the women were Thai.

My boyfriend was enthralled; I was repulsed.

I tugged at his hand. “Come on.”

“I want to watch some more,” he said, ignoring me.

I let go of him and went exploring on my own (mostly because I was worried he would suggest we get naked and have sex like everyone else).

In the moments that followed, it felt like I had fallen down a rabbit hole into a sex-drenched Wonderland.

I sped through the rooms that were more about exhibitionism and vanilla sex –

Until I finally came to the BDSM area.

There were large, wooden, X-shaped structures where naked men and women were bound by their ankles and wrists.

A few were in wooden stocks like medieval prisoners. Others knelt on the ground with leashes tied around their necks.

In another room, naked men crouched on all fours before leather-clad women who flogged them with multi-stranded whips.

I didn’t really care for any of it –

Until I entered a room where a woman was suspended from the ceiling by ropes tied around her body.

The lights from the ceiling oscillated between red and blue, turning her skin from crimson to sapphire.

I stood there, transfixed –

And for the first time since I’d entered the club, I found myself getting turned on.

“Do you like bondage?” a male voice called out in English, yelling to be heard over the electronic club music.

I turned and came face to face with one of the most gorgeous men I’d ever seen.

He was Asian – Korean, if I had to guess – and he wore a suit and tie.

He reminded me of my captor who had tied me up when I was 16.

I blushed furiously and blurted out, “I’m fine.”

“Yes, you are,” he said with a smile. Not leering, just playful.

I was confused until I realized he was making a play on words. ‘Fine’ as in ‘hot.’

I blushed even more and turned away from him.

“I work here, so if there’s anything you want, just let me know,” he said, then strolled away.

My entire body tensed up.

Two sides warred within me:

The ‘good girl’ who knew she shouldn’t be within a dozen miles of this place –

And the ‘bad’ part of me that wanted something desperately.

Something that I’d never been allowed to have.

“Wait!” I called out.

The man turned around and looked back at me with a calm smile. “Yes?”

I froze for a second –

And then, surprising myself, I yelled over the music, “Can we go someplace quiet?”

“Of course.”

He took my hand and led me out of the room.

I didn’t even think of my boyfriend once until it was all over.

63

He led me to a private room, maybe 20 feet square, and shut the door. The relentless pounding of the electronic music was suddenly muffled.

The smells of the club faded, too. The stink of sweat and sex was gradually replaced by the scent of the gorgeous man’s cologne: musky with a hint of spice.

The lighting was dim and the surroundings were shabby, but they were far less seedy than the rest of the club.

A shelf against the wall was stocked with towels and a basket full of condoms in foil wrappers.

There was also a small twin bed with threadbare sheets, a metal folding chair, and a sink.

The linoleum floor was clean but scuffed.

It reminded me very much of the room I’d been held captive in when I was 16.

Nicer, but similar.

“Would you like some music?” the gorgeous man in the suit asked.

“N-no,” I mumbled.

He smiled at me kindly. “What would you like?”

“I…”

I glanced at the metal folding chair, and my heart skipped a beat.

I couldn’t look at him as I said it, so I stared down at the floor.

“…I’d like to be tied up.”

“On the chair?” he asked gently.

“Y-yes.”

“Naked or clothed?”

My heart skipped several beats.

I suddenly felt hotter – and wetter – than I ever had with any boyfriend.

Nevertheless, I was still frightened, so I said, “C-clothed.”

“Alright, but I’ll need to charge you first. It’s six thousand baht an hour, with a one-hour minimum. You can pay for the first hour, and then I’ll ask if you want to continue when your time’s up.”

Baht was the Thai currency, pronounced ‘bot’ in English.

There were 33 baht to a dollar, so the price was roughly $180 US.

“A-alright,” I said as I fumbled in my purse.

I handed him the cash. The man counted it, then slipped it inside his suit jacket.

“Thank you. I’ll need to go get some things. Do you prefer rope or something else? Scarves, maybe?”

“R-rope, please.”

“Any preference? Nylon? Cotton? Polyester?”

“I… I don’t know.”

He smiled kindly. “Would you prefer something soft?”

“Y-yes, please.”

“Great. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

He opened the door, letting in the pounding music, then shut it behind him.

Once he was gone, I started to have a panic attack.

What are you DOING?!

You’re in a SEX club in fucking THAILAND, and you’re going to let a stranger tie you up! You IDIOT!

I stood there, wondering if I should bolt out of the room –

But I didn’t.

My need was greater than my fear.

And then… after a couple of minutes passed… I began to fear I’d been duped.

That the man had taken my money and wasn’t coming back.

I wondered if I should just leave –

When there was a gentle knock on the door.

The handsome man smiled apologetically when he walked in. “Sorry. Took me a while to find what I wanted.”

Around his shoulder was a large coil of thin, white rope. He held another in his hand.

My heart beat twice as fast as normal.

The gorgeous man shut the door, dropped both coils of rope on the floor, and gestured to the chair. “If you will.”

I hesitated, then sat down on the chair.

“If at any point you want me to stop, just say so,” he said. “You’re in complete control. Just tell me, and I’ll do whatever you want. Would you like me to proceed?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He smiled and knelt down in front of me –

Just like Prince Charming kneeling before Cinderella.

I was 22 years old –

But for a second, I was 16 again, back in the room with my captor.

The gorgeous man in the suit began to tie the rope gently around my ankles.

The rope sliding across my skin felt like pure sex.

Better than sex.

I stifled a moan.

“Let me know if it’s too tight,” he said.

“It’s not,” I breathed out.

He smiled and continued to tie me up.

Every brush of the rope was like a lover’s caress…

And every time a loop tightened, I felt my heart thud in my chest.

When he finished tying my ankles, he asked, “Now your hands?”

“Yes,” I said emphatically.

He knelt behind the chair and tied my hands together.

The experience was even more erotic than when he’d bound my ankles.

I stifled a moan as the rope tightened around my wrists.

When he was finished, he sat down on the bed opposite me.

I sat there, lightheaded, my panties absolutely drenched.

He smiled at me kindly. “Is that good?”

“Yes,” I moaned, then blushed to hear the passion in my voice.

He chuckled, then asked, “Is there something else you’d like?”

I stared at him. “Like… what?”

He shrugged. “Would you like me to touch you?”

My face burned hot as lava.

I took a long time to answer…

But every desire I’d had in the six years since my kidnapping flashed through my head.

“…yes,” I whispered.

64

He told me again that I was in complete control.

That I could stop what was happening at any time.

That the entire purpose was my pleasure.

That I should speak out if I felt uncomfortable at any point.

“Are you ready?” he finally asked.

“Yes,” I murmured.

He stood up next to me –

“Could you – could you kneel next to the chair?” I asked timidly.

“Of course.”

He knelt on one knee beside me, just like Prince Charming.

“Can I touch you here?” he asked, holding his hand several inches from my chest.

I swallowed hard. “Y-yes.”

I was wearing a white blouse with a bra underneath.

He gently touched me, trailing the tip of his finger down the slope of my breast…

Until he found the hard tip of my nipple under the cloth…

And began to slowly circle it.

My entire body lit up like I was on fire – pleasurable fire – and I moaned without meaning to.

I blushed scarlet at the noise escaping my lips –

But he just kept touching me.

Caressing me.

Cupping my breasts through my blouse and bra…

Rubbing my erect nipples…

Softly pinching them.

It was better than any sex I’d ever had.

I was in a drunken stupor of pleasure when he asked, “Can I touch you down here?”

He was pointing at the skirt over my thighs.

My heart sped up even faster.

I thought about saying no –

But again, my need was greater than my fear.

“Y-yes,” I managed to get out.

“Remember, you’re in control,” he whispered. “If you want me to stop, just say so.”

I tensed as his hand got close to my bare legs –

And then his hand touched my skin, and a shiver of pleasure ran through my entire body.

“Oh,” I gasped.

Because my ankles were tied, my legs were pressed together. He began to stroke them both, trailing one finger along the skin where my thighs met.

Heat suffused my entire body, and I shivered in ecstasy as he gently stroked my legs.

After few minutes, he touched the hem of my skirt.

“Here?” he asked.

I looked into his eyes. They were kind.

“…yes,” I whispered.

His hand slipped under the edge of my skirt and gently made its way up…

Until his fingertips touched my underwear.

It was like pleasure flowed from his hand into my body, and I moaned and shuddered with delight.

“Part your legs,” he whispered.

I pulled my knees apart.

His fingertip slid down the front of my soaked panties…

Until he found my clit.

He began to rub me softly.

My entire body felt like I had been plugged into an electrical current of ecstasy.

In my mind’s eye, the ropes around my wrists and ankles seemed to glow with a direct line of pleasure from my bindings…

To my nipples…

Down to my clit.

He began to stroke me a little faster.

I leaned forward, my head drooping, and moaned louder.

His finger rubbed the wet cloth of my panties faster – firmer –

And suddenly I felt something I’d never experienced before.

Contractions of bliss jolted me –

Spasms of ecstasy –

And every part of my body touched by the rope or his finger seemed filled with white-hot light straight from heaven.

I cried out, my voice choking with bliss –

Until finally the contractions began to lessen…

And his finger slowed down, eventually stopped altogether.

I sat there, wrists and ankles bound, my head hanging forward, my hair in my eyes, my mind clouded in post-orgasmic stupor.

Then the gorgeous man’s voice pierced the haze.

“Our hour is coming to a close. Do you want to continue?”

I immediately thought YES! –

But then I remembered that my boyfriend was out there somewhere, probably worried out of his mind.

I felt ashamed and frightened.

Ashamed that I had left him –

And frightened that I had just had the best experience of my entire life, completely clothed, with a stranger in a foreign country.

No other man had ever made me feel this way…

And I was worried I would never feel it again.

Nevertheless, my shame overwhelmed my desire.

“No… I need to go,” I said quietly.

He nodded and proceeded to untie me.

He went slowly… methodically…

And every touch of the loosened rope was like a caress. Afterplay rather than foreplay.

When he finished, he helped me to my feet.

I stood there shakily, legs still twitching from my first orgasm – and an incredibly powerful one, I would later find out.

I stared into his kind eyes and whispered, “Thank you.”

He smiled again. “It was my absolute pleasure. If you’re staying in Bangkok for a while, come back and see me. My name is Yeong, and I work here every Tuesday through Saturday.”

I nodded, hypnotized by his gaze, and walked out of the room.

65

As I walked through the pounding music of the club, I completely ignored the naked flesh all around me.

I was consumed with guilt.

I had just had the best sex of my life, and not with my boyfriend.

Although –

Was it really sex if neither of us had been naked?

He hadn’t been inside me.

I hadn’t even seen his penis.

And yet, I knew that was all a rationalization.

I’d just had sex…

And it had been amazing.

Far better than any experience with any other man I’d been with –

And a hundred times better than with my current boyfriend.

My face flushed hot with shame.

I hated the fact that my boyfriend was probably looking for me right now, worried out of his mind –

And I would have to confess what I’d done.

I dreaded it…

But I knew what I had to do.

I moved from room to room, looking for him –

But I couldn’t find him.

Terror welled up inside me.

Did he go back to the hotel?!

Did he know what I’d done and left me here in outrage?

I felt sick with guilt –

Until I finally found him in the group sex room, exactly where I’d left him.

In an instant, I didn’t feel guilty anymore.

Just outraged.

He was standing there with his pants down around his ankles, his head thrown back, and his mouth open –

As two naked Thai women knelt in front of his crotch, servicing him simultaneously.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” I shouted.

He snapped out of his trance and looked over at me in panic.

The two Thai hookers both looked at each other like Uh oh.

“Babe – I didn’t know where you’d gone!” my boyfriend wailed pitifully. “This isn’t what it looks like – I love you!”

I stormed out of the room.

“Babe, wait!” he cried, waddling after me like a penguin with his pants around his ankles.

I ran out of the club, caught a cab, went back to the hotel, and started packing my bags.

My boyfriend arrived ten minutes later. Instead of pleading and whining, he switched to accusatory yelling.

“Where the fuck were YOU for an hour, huh?!”

When I wouldn’t tell him, he grew enraged –

So I left with my suitcases, went to the front desk, and got another room.

I spent the night alone.

Eventually, I felt guilty that I wasn’t any better than my boyfriend.

After all, I’d had a sexual encounter with a stranger, too.

But I kept coming back to the image of the two naked Thai women and quickly got over my guilt.

Instead, I fell asleep dreaming of my hour with Yeong…

And the feeling of the ropes around my ankles and wrists.

The next day, I called the airline and changed my flight so I didn’t have to sit next to my boyfriend on the trip home.

I thought about staying another week in Bangkok and going back to the club to see Yeong –

But in the harsh light of day, I was mortified by what I’d done the previous night…

So I decided against it.

Once I returned to Hong Kong, I texted my boyfriend we were through and blocked his number.

I felt a little guilty –

But mostly, I was relieved.

I couldn’t go back to more boring, mediocre sex with him –

Not after what I’d experienced at the club.

Still, I had an internship to start, so I put aside my memories of that night.

I was determined to forget all about Thailand and go back to my normal life –

But nothing about it would ever be normal again.

66

Once I returned to Hong Kong, my life fell into an outward semblance of order.

Graduate school didn’t start for another six weeks, but my internship began immediately.

During the day, I did mind-numbing, entry-level work at one of the largest investment banks in Hong Kong.

At night, I would lie awake in bed for hours and relive that evening in Bangkok.

Being tied up…

A gorgeous man touching me…

Bringing me to an ecstasy I had only dreamed of.

Finally, my frustration reached a peak. I knew I couldn’t keep up my boring life without some sort of release…

So I went hunting.

I started with the internet and educated myself about BDSM.

Not just the fantasies of Fifty Shades of Grey –

But actual, real-world activities.

It turned out I had a bondage kink. Definitely not sadism or masochism, and probably not being dominated. (Or so I thought for a long, long time.)

I looked into various forms of bondage and decided I liked ropes and scarves – softer things. Not chains or shackles.

Once I had a better understanding of what I wanted, I began to seek it out.

I looked online for clubs similar to what I’d seen in Thailand –

But Hong Kong is a much more conservative place, with extremely strict laws limiting sex-for-hire (even if there was technically no sex involved).

I couldn’t find any brick-and-mortar business listings, so I began to comb internet fetish sites.

I gradually learned that there were underground BDSM parties in private homes throughout Hong Kong.

After making three female acquaintances online, I asked if we could meet in a public place for coffee so I could ask them questions.

I was extremely wary. Part of me was afraid my new ‘friends’ might actually be male serial killers posing as women to find new victims.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

To my surprise, they were very much like me: professionals… upper-middle-class… and two of them were college-educated.

One was single; two others were married with children. The married women’s husbands were also their partners in BDSM.

On the surface, they lived mundane lives filled with jobs, meetings, errands, child-rearing, grocery shopping, and domestic chores.

Their only escape was secretive parties in private homes, where they lived out the fantasies that made them feel truly alive.

I immediately hit it off with all three women, and they offered to help me break into the ‘scene’ by taking me to private parties.

And so began my education in the world of underground Hong Kong fetish clubs.

The first party took place in a stately mansion in the Peak, only a few miles away from my parents’ home. (Which made me irrationally nervous at first. I had to keep reminding myself that my parents weren’t going to burst in looking for me.)

The owner of the mansion had built a dungeon underground – a concrete room filled with all sorts of elaborate equipment.

I stayed on the sidelines, nervously sipping champagne as I watched others get paddled, flogged, and tied up.

I felt out of place in my little black nightclubbing dress. Everyone else was dressed in leather and latex and more traditional BDSM garb.

I got plenty of offers to partake – usually from middle-aged men – but I politely declined.

For my first time, all I did was watch.

The next gathering I attended, I came in a strappy leather outfit more suitable for the environment –

And I came ready to play.

I nervously volunteered to be tied up.

It wasn’t as hot as my experience with the gorgeous man back in Bangkok – once I was tied up, no one brought me to orgasm – but there was a different sort of pleasure in being watched by so many admiring eyes.

I was hooked.

I began going to every party I could gain access to.

By day, I was a boring graduate student in economics who worked 20 hours a week at an investment banking firm –

But at night, I was a kinky angel seeking to fulfill my darkest desires.

At the same time, my father kept trying to set me up on dates with prospective suitors.

I kept refusing – but on more than one occasion, I came home to have Sunday dinner with my parents, only to find a strange man about my age sitting at the table.

The first man was pleasant but boring.

The next guy was a smug, narcissistic asshole who got along famously with my father.

After the first occasion, I told my father not to do it again, or I wouldn’t drop by anymore.

When it happened a second time, I kept my word: I stopped coming to Sunday dinner.

I got plenty of angry texts and phone calls from my father – and a few from my mother trying to guilt me into coming back – but I stuck to my guns.

Besides, I had a lot of other things to do instead.

Burning the candle at both ends began to take its toll.

As a result, my grades in graduate school suffered.

Then the investment bank offered me a paying job.

It wasn’t nearly enough to live on in Hong Kong – not above the poverty line, anyway – but I was still being subsidized by my father. Because of his monthly deposits into my bank account, I had a beautiful apartment and stylish clothes.

I took the job and quit school, which gave me more time to pursue my true passions at night.

However, I didn’t tell my father about graduate school.

I figured I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

Within a few months, I met a handsome single guy at one of the fetish parties. He was just a few years older than me and loved tying me up.

In the privacy of his apartment, he brought me to orgasm after orgasm with my hands and feet bound.

I finally felt happy and fulfilled.

In fact, I began throwing my own parties. With the money I received every month from my family – and support from a few rich friends – I would rent out a loft on the weekend and transform it into a fetish wonderland full of whips and chains and leather things…

And rope.

Always plenty of rope.

I loved it. I loved making my desires into reality where others like me could play.

In fact, people started telling me, “Your parties are the best I’ve ever gone to. Too bad you can’t do this full-time.”

Yeah…

Too bad I can’t do it full-time…

67

Ihad been hosting parties for five months when my father’s thugs came to my day job.

I was sitting at my cubicle, reading an analysis of Hong Kong stock market trends, when my mild-mannered manager came over to me. His face was pale behind his round glasses.

“What’s wrong?” I asked in alarm.

“These… gentlemen want to have a word with you,” he wheezed.

I looked behind him to see two men in black suits and sunglasses. The visible tattoos on their necks and hands immediately gave them away as triad thugs.

I felt a jolt of terror, afraid that I was about to be kidnapped again –

But then I realized if that were going to happen, they would have grabbed me in a parking lot, not come to my place of work.

My face burned with shame as I realized my father had sent them.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized to my manager. Then I stomped over to the men and hissed, “How dare you come here!”

The older one said in a low voice, “Your father wants to speak with you.”

“He could have called!” I rage-whispered.

The thug ignored my temper tantrum. “You can come quietly, or we can make a scene. Which do you prefer?”

I opted to accompany them quietly – one on either side of me, like they were transporting a prisoner.

Which, in a sense, they were.

As we left, I stared at the floor in mortified silence…

And tried to ignore the fact that all my co-workers were watching me get marched out of the office by criminals.

The two men drove me to my parents’ house in a Rolls Royce.

Once we arrived, they escorted me past the household staff to my father’s study.

The room looked like something out of the British colonial period – which it was. Every wall was lined with shelves of leatherbound books. The vanilla scent of old paper hung in the air, and a grandfather clock tick tick ticked in the background.

My father was sitting behind his desk, dressed in a suit and tie like always, reading over some papers.

When the two men knocked, he looked up. His expression immediately darkened.

“Wait outside,” he ordered.

The two men closed the door behind them.

“Sit,” he said coldly, pointing at a chair across his desk.

I sat down. “If you wanted to talk to me, you should have just – ”

“Quiet,” he snapped.

“I don’t appreciate you sending two of your thugs to embarrass me at work – ”

“QUIET!” he shouted, the veins in his temples standing out.

I froze in my seat, suddenly seven years old again.

With sick dread, I realized this was about something more than my father’s usual controlling nature.

He found out, a little voice whispered in my mind.

No – that’s impossible –

I was so careful!

But then my worst fears were confirmed.

My father began sliding photographs across the desk, one by one.

They were shots taken with long lenses through windows, or grainy pictures snapped with cellphones in low light –

All from fetish parties I’d thrown over the last two weeks.

In one photo, I laughed as I wore a black bra, panties, and thigh-high boots under a leather trench coat.

In another, I playfully paddled a naked man bent over a pommel horse.

In another, I sat tied up with rope in a high-backed chair, my face contorted in pleasure.

Picture after picture, which would have been shocking to anyone not familiar with the BDSM community –

But especially to a father seeing his daughter in them.

I wanted to sink into the floor in shame…

But a flicker of rage sparked inside me.

Someone betrayed me.

I wondered who it had been.

“First I hear you quit school,” my father snarled. “Now I find out about this. Explain yourself.”

I forced myself to remember I wasn’t a child anymore.

“This is none of your business,” I said firmly.

“THE HELL IT ISN’T!” he roared, frightening me as he bolted up from his chair. “You think a respectable family will let their son marry you if they find out about this?!”

“I don’t want to get married,” I snapped. “Especially not to any of your handpicked little Mini-Me’s.”

He didn’t understand the ‘Mini-Me’ reference, but he heard the defiance in my voice loud and clear.

He circled around the desk, his face a mask of rage. “What the fuck are you doing with your life?! Becoming a degenerate?! A whore?! I am ashamed to have you as my daughter! You have brought dishonor upon our family!”

Every word was like a knife in my gut.

In Cantonese, the phrase You have brought dishonor upon our family might as well have been a curse.

But it was the part about I am ashamed to have you as my daughter that felt like he was cutting out my heart.

However, I wasn’t about to go down without a fight.

The last six months – which I’d spent doing what I actually wanted to do for the first time in my life – had given me more of a backbone than that.

I blinked back tears and scoffed. “Me? I brought dishonor upon our family? You’re a criminal – a bully – a murderer and a thug. I’m ashamed to be your daughter. If anyone has dishonored our family, it’s you.”

My father was always an angry man, ever since I could remember.

But at that moment, his rage was incandescent, his expression absolutely demonic.

Before I could react, he reared back his hand and slapped me in the face. Hard.

My head whipped painfully to the side, and I burst into tears.

“Get out,” he snarled as he towered above me. “Get out of my house. You are no longer part of this family. I am cutting you off; you are no longer welcome here.”

I stared at him in shock. “Father – ”

“GET OUT!” he roared. He flung open the door and yelled at the two men who had brought me here. “Get her the fuck out of here!”

I stumbled out of the study, weeping and holding my bruised cheek, as the two thugs followed behind me.

The servants in the hallway averted their eyes and scurried away. I knew they feared my father’s anger if they showed me even a hint of compassion.

My mother walked into the foyer as I was about to leave.

“Mother!” I cried out, tears running down my face. “Please – ”

But she turned her face away from me, her expression hard as stone.

“You made your choice,” she said coldly.

I sobbed even harder as the two thugs gently ushered me outside to the car.

Of all the people in the house that day, they were by far the kindest.

68

My life quickly fell apart.

My boyfriend was the first casualty.

I called him in hysterics when I got back to my apartment, but he didn’t answer.

I texted him it was an emergency –

And got back a text message:

I can’t see you anymore.

That was when I really lost it.

WHY? I texted back.

I called and texted him so many times that he finally showed me the reason:

A picture of his face with a swollen black eye and multiple scrapes and bruises.

Three gangsters jumped me coming out of my apartment this morning. They beat me up and told me they’d kill me if I ever talked to you again. What the fuck is going on, Mei-ling?

I apologized profusely. I told him my father was triad and that he’d found out about my secret life.

My boyfriend was understandably angry that I’d kept my father’s profession a secret.

But it’s over, I pleaded. He disowned me. He won’t ever bother us again.

I can’t take that chance, he replied. Please don’t ever contact me again.

That was the last I heard from him.

I tried contacting my brothers, but neither returned my calls or texts.

I realized after a few days that they had blocked my number.

Next up was my boss.

After crying all weekend, I forced myself to go back to work on Monday – only to find my badge to get into the building didn’t work.

Security called my boss, who came down with a small cardboard box full of my cubicle belongings.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but we can’t have those kinds of people showing up here again.”

He knew they were triad. Everybody at work knew it.

“They won’t,” I said frantically. “I promise you it will never happen again.”

“It’s too much of a risk,” he said as he handed me the cardboard box. “Good luck.”

I stood there in shock as he turned his back on me and walked away.

Even if I had continued getting a paycheck, I didn’t make nearly enough to pay for my apartment, much less food or utilities.

Once the money from my father stopped coming – which happened immediately – I was faced with losing my home. Even a single month’s rent payment would wipe out all my savings.

I sat at my kitchen table in shock, terrified I would never be able to get myself out of this mess –

Until my fear gave way to hatred.

FUCK him.

I’ll show him.

I don’t need him, or my mother, or anybody.

I’ll make it on my own.

That was when I decided I would survive no matter what I had to do.

I took stock of what I had.

A degree in Economics and experience at an investment bank, which might have gotten me a subsistence-level job –

Except I couldn’t imagine my former boss recommending me to another employer.

In fact, he would probably warn them not to hire me.

However, it just so happened that I had a contact list of well-to-do men…

Men who had attended my fetish parties…

Who enjoyed being tied up, whipped, and humiliated…

And who had repeatedly asked if they could pay me to give them what they wanted.

I called the first guy I thought of.

I told him I had quit my day job and was now offering my services for hire.

“How much?” he asked eagerly.

I hesitated, then forced myself to sound confident. “Three thousand per hour.”

That was Hong Kong dollars – the equivalent of $385 US per hour.

“And no sex,” I added firmly.

He immediately said he wanted three hours and asked if I could come to a hotel room that night, which he would pay for.

I said yes.

Before I left to meet him at the hotel, I had booked seven more gigs – enough to pay my rent for the month.

And my utilities.

And my grocery bill.

The best part was, it would only take me a few days.

I would make ten times more than my monthly paycheck… in less than a week.

And that was how I started my career as a dominatrix.

For a year or so, the money was enough to keep me interested – but I gradually grew weary of being a dominatrix.

My heart wasn’t in it, and I found some of the things I had to do distasteful.

I never had sex with my clients, though.

Well…

I was never the recipient of sex.

I occasionally used sex toys on some of my better-paying clients, which was the part of the job I disliked the most.

The only thing that kept me going (other than needing to pay my rent) was I used the revenue to keep funding the fetish club.

Once a month, I would host an underground BDSM gathering in some of the wealthiest homes in Hong Kong.

Word of mouth brought in new clients begging for my private services.

The higher demand and more exclusive clientele allowed me to double my rates.

With my new influx of funds, I rented a permanent space in the warehouse district and christened it After Dark.

Eventually, I hired a dominatrix to take over some of my workload…

Then another…

And another.

I hired a male dom for the gay clients and the occasional straight woman or married couple.

Then another.

And another.

Not to mention submissives for the clients who liked to be in control…

Plus staff to handle the bookings and security.

Before I knew it, I had a bustling business bringing in half a million US in revenue per month – close to $100,000 US in profit just for me.

I retired as a dominatrix and switched to running the club full-time.

The one thing that suffered greatly was my love life.

I had the occasional bondage session with men I trusted…

But I never found anyone like my previous boyfriend, the one my father had frightened away.

Truthfully, I was too scared to let anyone get close to me again.

After the disaster that had happened when my father found out, I became withdrawn… isolated.

I didn’t really notice, though.

I was busy running a thriving business. I had less and less time for a private life.

Three years after my father had disowned me, I moved into a luxurious apartment in the Summit. I bought myself a Bentley as a reward for my success.

Life was good.

And then disaster struck again.

It was a typical Saturday night at After Dark. I was making the rounds, ensuring that all my clients were being taken care of –

When police officers in riot gear kicked down the doors.

“HALT! YOU’RE UNDER ARREST!”

Customers screamed and ran for the exits.

The cops let them go.

They only seemed interested in me.

A new customer came out of a private room, dragging along the submissive he’d hired. She was handcuffed – and not in a fun way.

He flashed a badge in my face.

An undercover cop.

“You’re the proprietor of this establishment?” he asked me gruffly.

“…yes,” I said wearily.

“Your employee solicited me for sex for money. You are hereby arrested for engaging in organized prostitution.”

In Hong Kong, prostitution wasn’t illegal, exactly – but running a brothel was.

It was informally known as the ‘one woman, one room’ rule. As long as you were a one-woman operation, the cops left you alone.

In fact, there were high-rises in Hong Kong with hundreds of rooms rented by individual sex workers.

But if several prostitutes worked out of a single apartment…

Or a person offered sex-for-hire in an establishment like After Dark…

Then the owner of that apartment or establishment could be charged with organized prostitution, and the business would be shut down.

I glared at my employee, who stared at the floor in shame.

She had violated my number one rule: no sex with customers, at least not on the premises.

If she wanted to take someone home and charge them, fine – just as long as it wasn’t at After Dark.

But she’d wanted to make a quick buck…

And now I was going to pay the price.

She would get off with a relatively small fine –

And I would lose my entire business.

She’d screwed me royally –

Not to mention all her colleagues, who wouldn’t have a place to work after tonight.

“You are under arrest,” the detective intoned as he slapped cuffs on my wrist. “If you can’t afford a lawyer, one will be appointed to you…”

I had enough good sense to prepare for just such a situation long ago.

Every month, I paid a substantial retainer to one of the preeminent criminal defense lawyers in Hong Kong – a young hotshot who had his own firm by the time he was 30.

I left a message for him on his cell phone as soon as I was booked at the police station…

But he wasn’t the one who showed up.

Instead, an older man in a pinstripe suit and wireframe glasses walked into the private consultation room. I’d never seen him before.

“Who are you?” I asked in surprise.

“Your father sent me.”

Ice water coursed through my body.

I was about to scream for the guard when he held up a finger. “Hear what I have to say first.”

I stayed silent, but my heart was beating several times faster than normal.

“Your father does not want your name in the papers, given that the press will link you to your family… so he has arranged for the charges to be dropped.”

I stared at him, stunned. “How?”

“Unofficially, all it took was a phone call. Officially, the warrant will be found to have certain flaws which will invalidate the arrest. You’ll be released half an hour after I walk out of here. However, your father wants me to give you a message.”

I sat there in silence, waiting in terror to hear it.

“Your business ends tonight. Otherwise, you will be the target of future raids. They will continue to occur until the police either find something to put you in prison or you’re financially destitute. Take whatever money you’ve made and walk away.”

I felt sick to my stomach. “Does my father want me to leave Hong Kong?”

“No. He expressly forbids that.”

I stared at the lawyer in shock. “…what?! Why?!”

“If you are willing to marry someone of his choosing, he will overlook the last three years and allow you back into the family.”

Now it made sense.

The asshole just wants to control me.

He doesn’t want me to leave –

He wants me under his thumb.

He wants me to come crawling back to him.

Like the moment when I’d decided to become a dominatrix, my fear gave way to anger, purifying and hot.

“You tell my father he can go fuck himself.”

The lawyer gave me the barest hint of a smile. “I’ll tell him you’re considering his offer. I would strongly advise you to do so.”

Then he walked out.

Just like the man in the pinstripe suit had said, I was released 30 minutes later.

The charges were dropped. Something about a faulty warrant.

Ordinarily, I would have had to go to court and spend tens of thousands of dollars before the cops would admit something like that – even if it was true, which I was guessing it wasn’t.

But that was the perk of having a triad boss as your father. Lots of crooked cops and judges on the payroll.

I got a call from the hotshot lawyer the next morning. I was still drunk from the half a bottle of vodka I’d drunk when I got home.

“What happened? By the time I got to the station, they said you’d already been released.”

I told him about the man in the pinstripe suit and the message from my father.

My lawyer already knew about my triad connections; I had warned him when I first hired him. It hadn’t phased him in the slightest.

“What are you going to do?”

“What can I do?” I asked angrily. “I have to shut everything down. Otherwise, he’s just going to sic the cops on me until I’m ruined.”

My lawyer was silent for a long moment.

Then he said, “Don’t do anything just yet.”

“Why?”

“I know a guy. Let me talk to him first.”

I scoffed. “Unless he’s more powerful than my father, I don’t think it’ll do any good.”

My lawyer laughed. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

69

And that was how I met Mr. Lau.

On Monday morning at 10 AM, I found myself in a minimalist office at the top of a 70-floor skyscraper, marveling at the stunning view of Hong Kong.

The man in the office looked like a kindly old grandfather. His Nehru collar suit, a throwback to a previous century, completed the image.

As we drank green tea from porcelain cups, he smiled benevolently. “Mr. Che informs me you have a bit of a problem.”

Che was my hotshot lawyer.

“How much did he tell you?” I asked warily.

“More or less everything. I hope that wasn’t indiscreet on his part.”

“Indiscreet? My father’s a triad gangster. I’m the owner of a BDSM club. I was just arrested for organized prostitution. There’s nothing ‘discreet’ about me.”

Lau chuckled. “That will be our first order of business: making you and your business extremely discreet.”

I noticed he said our first order of business.

Nothing about IF we work together.

“Che didn’t tell me much about you,” I said.

“There’s not much to tell. I am an investor and financier.”

I glanced around the office. “And a highly successful one by the looks of it.”

Lau smiled modestly. “I do alright.”

“Why would you want to invest in a BDSM club?”

“Truthfully, I would not be investing in the club so much as I would be investing in you. From what Mr. Che said, you’re quite formidable. The daughter of a triad boss is disowned and strikes out on her own. Within three years, she is turning a healthy profit with a business on the fringes of the law, in a market normally controlled by men. I find that very impressive.”

So my lawyer had told him everything.

“I’m flattered, but I still don’t understand why you would want to take the risk.”

“I have a high appetite for risk, Ms. Chan, as long as it delivers commensurate levels of profit.”

“The risks are pretty huge, though, seeing as I’m on the police department’s radar.”

Lau waved one hand dismissively. “That won’t be an issue.”

“How can you know that?”

Lau smiled. “Because the Commissioner of Police is a close friend of mine.”

Oh SHIT.

The Commissioner of Police was not only the most powerful law enforcement position in Hong Kong, it was a job appointed by the State Council of China.

As in the Chinese Communist Party.

Lau was not only connected to the upper echelons of Hong Kong law enforcement…

But he was also buddies with people who ran China’s government.

If Lau could persuade the Commissioner to ‘overlook’ my club without the Commissioner worrying about a scandal and getting fired…

That meant Lau had some very important higher-ups in his pocket.

But there was one other fly in the ointment.

A big, ugly horsefly.

“There’s another problem besides the cops.”

“Which is?”

“My father told me that if I continued my business, he would ruin me financially.”

“That was when he could send the police after you. That won’t be an issue going forward.”

“That’ll just make him angrier. Once he finds out he can’t sic the cops on me, I wouldn’t be surprised if he ordered his thugs to burn down my business.”

“He won’t.”

I laughed ruefully. “You don’t know my father.”

“Actually, I’m well acquainted with him.”

I stared at Lau. “You know my father?!”

“Yes, we’re members of the same country club.” Lau’s smile grew slightly sinister. “And he owes me a large sum of money. If I say you’re off limits, he will respect my wishes.”

I sat there in utter shock.

My father was a predator. A shark.

If Lau was the kind of man who could order my father around – someone my father owed money to –

Then Lau must have been a Great White.

That gave me serious pause.

Of course, if you were a minnow and needed to protect yourself from a shark, it would be nice to make friends with a Great White.

…unless the Great White decided to eat you.

“I need to be very clear about a few things,” I said, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.

“Proceed.”

“I don’t want to be involved with blackmail. No cameras or recording devices in my club. I won’t use people’s private activities against them – financially, politically, or any other way.”

“I can assure you, nothing of the sort will happen.”

“Then what is it you want the club for?”

“I have many associates who would enjoy an upscale, discreet service. And, as I said, your business generates a great deal of revenue… most of which would be untraceable by the authorities.”

Ah.

‘Untraceable’ was the key word.

He was looking to make a lot of money and not have to pay taxes… which, in China, were considerable.

“We’re only making half a million a month, and only a fifth of that was profit.” I glanced around his office again. “I’m assuming that’s peanuts to a man like you.”

“You only made that much because you limited yourself to a local clientele. I would be supplying you with incredibly wealthy clients from the Middle East… Europe… Russia… the United States. You could easily bill them five times what you’re charging now, and they wouldn’t blink.”

I stared at him.

If what he was saying was true…

“What would our arrangement be?” I asked. “Fifty/fifty?”

He laughed louder and more spontaneously than at any other point in the meeting.

“Good heavens, no. You’ll get a 10% share of the profits.”

I frowned indignantly. “That’s insultingly low.”

“Consider this: you’re making 100% of the profits now, which you said are 100,000 a month. Far better to make 10% of three million dollars per month… wouldn’t you agree?”

300,000 a month instead of 100,000?

Damn straight it was a better deal.

Lau continued. “Not to mention, the stress of any problems will no longer rest on your shoulders. I will assume all the risk.

“You will manage the club and your employees as you see fit. In return, I’ll put up the deposit for a more upscale location… the fee for a top interior decorator… several million for the remodel… plus I’ll provide protection from the police and keep your father off your back.

“Or… you can continue on your present path. Which, with your father’s interference, will most probably lead to financial ruin, as you stated earlier.” He paused dramatically. “Your choice.”

Not much of a choice at all.

I felt incredibly uneasy about it…

But I felt a whole lot more uneasy about letting my father control my life.

If Lau could get me free of him, then there wasn’t a whole lot I wouldn’t do.

“Alright,” I said. “It’s a deal.”

“Excellent. If I might make one small suggestion…”

“What?” I asked warily.

“Consider renaming the business. We’ll put something boring on the filing papers – Hong Kong Holding Company B32 or something similar – and there won’t be any signs advertising your club from the outside. But for those who hear about it by word of mouth, the name should be a bit more elegant… a bit more European… a bit more… scandalous.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Lau smiled. “How about ‘De Sade’?”

“Like the Marquis de Sade.”

“Precisely.”

I nodded. “I like it.”

Lau beamed. “Good.”

The old man wasn’t nearly as stiff and stodgy as his grandfatherly appearance would lead you to believe.

Maybe this business partnership won’t be such a bad thing after all…

After I signed a few papers, Lau gave me a brief tour of the 70th floor, including the accounting department.

“Once we open De Sade,” Lau said, “you’ll deliver the previous night’s receipts the following day. A good portion of the money the club takes in will be Bitcoin, by the way. That’s the way many of my associates prefer to do business these days – in cryptocurrency.”

Interesting.

I guess it made it more difficult for their governments – and their wives – to find out about.

After a bit more discussion about reopening the club, I left Lau’s office feeling jubilant.

I was absolutely thrilled that I had beaten my father at his own game –

And saved my business, all in one fell swoop.

It wasn’t until much later that I realized I’d signed away my soul to the devil himself.

70

Lau kept his word.

He signed a lease in a beautiful office building in Lan Kwai Fong, Hong Kong’s nightclub district.

While the space was being remodeled, I started interviewing. I decided to keep only my very best former employees; the rest were candidates from all over Asia. I wanted ensure my new staff of doms, dominatrixes, and submissives was truly world-class.

Three months later, we had our opening night.

I expected business to be slow at first, especially since our new pricing was exorbitant –

But Lau came through on that front, as well. The first night was filled with businessmen not just from Asia but from around the world.

And as Lau had predicted, they didn’t even blink at paying $3000 US (and upwards) per hour.

The money started rolling in…

The cops never darkened our doorway…

And I never once heard from my father.

Life was good.

Not everything was champagne and roses, though.

There were problems – and I don’t mean the kind that come with running any business, like employees getting sick or the plumbing breaking.

The biggest problem was Mr. Han.

He was Lau’s right-hand man – the one who did the dirty work.

One look at him and I could tell he was a gangster. He just dressed a lot better than the average triad goon.

He had a dead-eyed look to him – a real sociopath. Very handsome, but scary.

He was repeatedly disrespectful to my staff. When he tried to be rude to me, I chewed him out in front of the entire club, calling him a little-dicked butt-boy for his boss.

He just smiled in amusement and went back to his drink.

He didn’t retaliate, though. Apparently, he had orders that I was off-limits.

But, by the same token, I couldn’t bar him from the club –

Because it was Han who brought in the high-rollers.

At least once a week, he would show up with an extremely rich guy who would throw money around like confetti.

One time, out of curiosity, I tallied up the contributions of Han’s ‘friends’ to the bottom line.

The money they spent was 60% of our revenue.

So Han was untouchable.

Unfortunately, the men he brought around (always men, never women) tended to be entitled assholes.

And they started wanting drugs.

Drugs had floated around my old business, After Dark, but it was individual customers who brought them. I never supplied them.

Han pulled me aside two weeks after the opening and said, “My friend wants some cocaine.”

“Tell him to go find some, then,” I retorted. “He can get it on any street corner in Wan Chai.”

“I’ll handle it tonight, but you need to start offering it in the future.”

“No!” I said, incensed. “I’m a businesswoman, not a drug dealer.”

Han looked at me in disgust before walking away.

The next morning, I got a call from Lau.

“Do you recall what you and Mr. Han discussed last night?”

We’d only discussed one thing.

“Yes…?”

“Follow his instructions. He will put you in touch with someone.”

“But – ”

“Follow Mr. Han’s instructions,” Lau said curtly, then hung up.

At that point, I realized that Lau wasn’t just in bed with gangsters…

He was a gangster.

Albeit the kind that owned the bank instead of robbing it.

Han smirked the next night when I asked for his dealer’s name.

Asshole.

I used Han’s connection for a while, but I became incredibly uncomfortable with the guy. He was another dead-eyed sociopath – the kind of man who would put a bullet in someone’s head and complain about the mess afterwards.

Plus, he was always surrounded by tattooed goons in cheap suits.

I was sure they were all triad… and I hated anybody triad.

After a while, I asked some of my friends from the old days who they would recommend. Two of them mentioned a guy named Chaoxiang, a street hustler who worked out of the back of a noodle shop in Wan Chai. He dealt in just about everything – credit card fraud, guns, and stolen passports, as well as drugs.

The one thing my friends all told me was, “He can get you anything you need. Anything.”

Turns out they were right.

The best part, though, was that Chaoxiang had a friendly disposition, wasn’t triad, and wasn’t a psychopath. He was just a regular garden-variety criminal who was very good at his job.

When Han asked me why I’d stopped using his buddy, I said, “Your boy has serial killer vibes, so I found somebody else.”

When Lau called me the next day with the same question – after Han had tattled on me – I said, “You told me I could run the business as I see fit. I found someone else who gets me excellent product, is cheaper, and doesn’t remind me of a serial killer. Do we have a problem?”

“As long as the supply chain continues uninterrupted, we’re fine.”

And that was that.

Until the Russian oligarch incident.

71

It was a normal Friday night when Han showed up with a middle-aged Russian.

The guy wore Armani and a $200,000 watch, but he was also a complete asshole – loud, obnoxious, and rude. He treated the bar staff like shit.

I was just about to have him thrown out when Han came over and said, “I need a speedball.”

“For your Russian friend?”

Han smirked. “Who else?”

A speedball was a combination of an opioid and a stimulant. The classic version – heroin and cocaine – had been the result of many high-profile deaths over the decades. John Belushi and River Phoenix were two of the most famous.

Not only were speedballs dangerous, they created a high where the user became exceptionally reckless.

“If he’s going to do that, I don’t want him anywhere near my staff,” I said.

“That’s not up to you,” Han replied.

“The hell it isn’t.”

Han took a step forward and got right up in my face. “That man just invested $100 million with Mr. Lau. He wants to celebrate, so he gets whatever the fuck he wants. Understood?”

I gritted my teeth and went to the safe in my office for the drugs. I handed them over to Han, along with paraphernalia for the injection: a sterile needle still in its packaging, a lighter, a cord to tie off his arm, and a spoon.

While I was in my office, the Russian had apparently procured the services of one of my newest submissives, Kam. She was a tiny little thing, delicate and sweet-natured.

When I found out, I immediately told her, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“He offered me triple my normal rate,” Kam said happily.

I frowned. “For what, exactly?”

She looked uncomfortable. “If we… push the envelope a little.”

I didn’t like the sound of that at all.

“Kam – ”

“I’ll be careful. I promise.”

I hesitated. She had been a professional sub for three years in South Korea; she knew what she was doing.

…I hoped.

“I’ll be careful,” she repeated.

“Take a panic button with you,” I ordered.

We had tiny remotes that workers could keep concealed from clients. One press of the button would alert security to come rushing into the room in case things got out of hand –

Like if the customer became excessively violent.

I nervously watched Kam go into one of the rooms with the Russian, who carried the drug paraphernalia along with him.

Kam smiled and waved at me like Don’t worry.

“Does your Russian know what he’s doing?” I asked Han.

“Of course he does.”

I frowned, then went back to my normal duties of running the club.

I didn’t know anything was wrong until I heard the screaming.

Twenty minutes later, one of my dominatrixes shrieked for help.

I came running, along with one of my security guards.

My stomach dropped when I saw the room the dominatrix was standing outside: the same one Kam and the Russian had entered.

Kam hadn’t used the panic button, so I prayed it was a misunderstanding.

It wasn’t.

When we entered, we found the Russian naked and huddled in the corner, rocking back and forth in a catatonic state.

Kam’s lifeless body was splayed out on the floor.

Blood was everywhere, including all over the Russian.

Han came in behind me and muttered “Shit” under his breath.

Then he shoved my security guy out of the room. “OUT.”

“Call 999!” I yelled – the number in Hong Kong for emergency services.

“DO NOT CALL ANYONE,” Han yelled as he pulled out his cell phone. “I’m handling it.”

“She needs an ambulance!” I cried out.

“She’s dead,” Han said dismissively, then turned away from me as he spoke into the phone. “Boss? There’s a problem.”

After he made the call, Han forced me out of the room.

He also told me he’d kill anyone who entered without his permission.

Lau showed up 20 minutes later with several black-suited gangsters in tow.

“Where’s Mr. Han?” he asked.

Lau was no longer a kind grandfather, but a steely-eyed general.

When we opened the door to the room, the Russian was still completely out of it – but Han had wiped most of the blood off him and gotten him dressed. Crimson-stained towels were everywhere.

Kam still lay on the floor, untouched.

“Get him out of here,” Lau said to his rent-a-thugs.

They took the Russian by the arm and guided him out of the room.

“Where the fuck are they taking him?!” I cried out angrily.

Lau ignored me and turned to Han. “Take care of this.”

Han nodded, then walked out.

“Where’s he going?!” I demanded.

“I need you to have your staff escort all remaining customers out of the building,” Lau said calmly. “Comp them for everything, but I want them gone within five minutes. Then gather the staff so I can address them personally.”

“What about the police?!”

“We won’t be involving the police.”

“But that fucking Russian asshole murdered her!” I screamed.

Without warning, Lau lashed out and slapped me in the face –

Just like my father had several years before.

The only difference was my father had been enraged; Lau’s expression never changed.

I stumbled backwards in shock, my hand on my stinging cheek.

“Are you in control of your emotions now?” Lau asked coldly.

I just stared at him in shock. I couldn’t believe he had done it.

“Assemble your staff. I need to speak to them.”

“What about Kam?” I asked with a trembling voice.

“The girl is beyond our help. Mr. Han will take care of it.”

“But the Russian – ”

“Is a billionaire and a personal friend of Vladimir Putin. He wouldn’t face any consequences even if he were arrested by the police. He’s going back to Russia, and he won’t return.”

“But – ”

“Get rid of the customers and assemble your staff,” Lau snarled.

I stumbled out of the room and did exactly what he ordered.

Fifteen minutes later, Lau stood in front of my employees in the lounge and introduced himself as the co-owner of De Sade.

He said there had been a tragic accident.

However, no one was to go to the authorities.

In fact, no one was to ever tell anyone what had occurred at De Sade that night.

It was regrettable, but it had happened, and the only thing we could do was move past it.

As an inducement to ‘move past it,’ Lau handed out envelopes stuffed with 100,000 Hong Kong dollars – about $12,800 US – to each employee.

For most of my dominatrixes and subs, it was more than they made in a week.

For the support staff, it was more than they made in two months.

Everyone understood exactly what was happening:

They were being paid for their silence.

They also understood what would happen if they talked…

Because everyone knew Han was upstairs with a plastic tarp.

By the time Lau had finished his speech, Han and Kam’s body were gone.

After Lau departed, I sent the rest of the staff home early and cleaned up Kam’s blood myself as a sort of penance.

I wept the entire time I did it…

And cursed the powerful men of the world who did whatever the fuck they wanted without any repercussions.

Including the old man with the grandfatherly smile who held the invisible leash around my neck.

In time, the shock and pain of Kam’s death abated.

The police never came around, and no one asked any questions.

Things returned to normal.

Nearly everyone forgot about it – or at least no one talked about it.

Even I began to forget. Or tried to, anyway.

It was just too awful.

Like so many other things that had happened to me, I compartmentalized it…

And pushed it down…

Until I just stopped thinking about it.

But it never really went away.

…it never does.

The one upside was that there were no more incidents with rich customers. I made sure of it.

Even Han didn’t protest when I intervened to throw customers out, no matter how rich they were.

I had almost tricked myself into believing that we had turned a corner…

That things would be alright from here on out…

Until the night a handsome Italian walked into my club.

72

The night was not going well.

A first-time customer had gotten angry when Bai, one of the submissives who worked for me, refused to have sex with him.

Bai had gotten scared and pressed her panic button. I immediately came in with two bouncers.

I explained to the customer that this was an establishment with no sexual contact and that he was required to keep all activities to BDSM practices with no penetration.

Technically, ‘no sexual contact’ was a half-truth. It was up to the sub or dom whether they wanted to have sex with customers – but only off-site. Never inside the club.

I was 99% sure that Lau would keep the cops off my back, but I was still paranoid. After all, I’d nearly lost everything the night After Dark got raided.

I tried explaining Hong Kong’s laws to the customer, but he didn’t want to hear it. He was German and started ranting about prostitution being legal in Germany.

“This isn’t Germany, sir,” I said politely.

At that point, he became verbally abusive towards me –

Which sealed his fate.

I told him he would get a full refund but that he was to leave the premises immediately and never come back.

That made him even angrier –

So I had my security guys subdue him.

I tucked the 40,000 Hong Kong Dollars the German had paid (about $5000 US) into his pants pocket, took a picture of him with my phone as he screamed obscenities at me, then had my bouncers escort him down the elevator and throw him out in the lobby half-naked.

After that, I had my assistant put his name and picture on the club’s digital blacklist.

Incidents like this happened about twice a week. Always with men, never with female customers. And 90% of the time, it was Westerners: Germans, French, British, Italians, Americans.

Never Canadians, though. Canadians were unfailingly polite.

Actually, most of my Western clients were well-behaved. But there seemed to be a very small, very vocal subset who were not. Like the German, they were entitled, demanding, and rude… and usually resorted to anger and physical threats when told ‘no.’

Dealing with those sorts of men was part of the job, but one I could have happily done without.

So I wasn’t in the best mood as I was crossing the main floor of the lounge area…

And he stepped deliberately into my path.

By the looks of him, he was Italian. Taller than most men who came to De Sade. With his expensive suit and dark, slicked-back hair, he looked like a banker or someone in finance.

He was also very handsome.

I was struck by that, even though I wasn’t particularly fond of Westerners at the moment.

“Hello,” he said with a slight smile.

His voice was attractive, too. Deep, but not too deep.

His accent was American rather than British, although it was tinged with a cultured European lilt.

When he stepped in front of me, I stopped in surprise.

“Oh – hello.”

“I had to come over and meet you.” His charming smile deepened as he extended his hand. “My name is Roberto Rosolini.”

I’d guessed right about the Italian part.

The man was a customer, so I needed to be welcoming –

But to be honest, I didn’t exactly have to force a smile.

I shook his hand. “Chan Mei-ling.”

“That’s beautiful… does your name have a meaning?”

I sighed inwardly.

Almost every Western male always asked that.

They must have heard that Chinese names had literal meanings, so they always inquired – and apparently thought that no other man had ever asked.

After the 5000th time, I wished they would just ask me about the weather instead.

“‘Beautiful spirit’ or ‘beautiful bell,’ depending on how you wish to interpret it,” I replied. No matter how handsome he was, the conversation wasn’t off to a scintillating start, and I had to get back to my duties. “Mr. Rosolini, I – ”

“Call me Roberto,” he interrupted. “May I buy you a drink? Say yes.”

I really didn’t have time for this.

“Mr. Rosolini – ”

“Say yes,” he repeated in a different tone.

“I don’t – ”

“Say yes,” he said with a slight smile and a sly look.

His repetition of the phrase triggered a memory.

During my vacation in Thailand – before the final, dramatic night in Bangkok – I visited a mountain city called Chiang Mai.

On the third day there, my boyfriend wandered off to run an errand.

While I waited for him at a roadside café, a little Thai boy no older than six came walking up with ten red carnations.

He was one of hundreds of street urchins I’d seen during my trip: kids who sold flowers and tchotchkes to tourists to help support their families.

At first, I was shocked that children that young weren’t in school, but it became a depressingly familiar sight.

He was dressed in dirty shorts and a grubby t-shirt, but he gave me a movie star smile as he held out a flower. “Ten baht.”

He was only asking for the equivalent of 30 cents, but I had no desire for a carnation.

“No, thank you,” I replied.

He repeated the phrase again, but in a different tone of voice – like, Come ON, it’s a bargain! “Ten baht!”

“No, thank you.”

He tilted his head to the side and said, “Ten baaaaaaht,” like the price was nothing – a mere pittance – so how could I possibly refuse?

By that point, I had started to smile a little. “No.”

“Ten baht!” he said with a shrug, like Who could resist THAT?!

“No,” I said, but now I was laughing.

“Ten… baht.”

Come ON, lady. I’m giving you the deal of the century here.

I kept saying no, and he kept using different tonal variations with slightly different meanings. He never repeated the same one twice.

“Ten baht?” Are you SURE you’re going to pass on such a great deal?

“TEN baht!” Not 20 baht – not 30 baht – it’s only TEN baht!

“Ten BAHT?!” Oh my goodness – can that price even be RIGHT?!

By then, I was snorting with laughter. My resolve was weakening.

He grinned and showed me all his baby teeth.

“Ten BAHT!” You know you want this carnation, lady!

At that point, I broke down and gave him 100 baht – $3 US – and took all ten of the flowers. I also gave him another 100 baht so he could buy some candy or a toy.

The sight of him skipping away down the street was one of my favorite memories of the trip.

That, and his repeated variations of Ten baht?

The Italian’s boyish charm called to mind my tiny salesman from Thailand, and I laughed in spite of myself.

Why the hell not.

A drink would take the edge off of dealing with the German.

“…alright. Just one.”

“What would you like?” he asked.

“Jiangbei knows.”

I looked over at Jiangbei. She gave me a nod as she began to fix my usual.

Then I saw Han by the bar, smirking and looking like his usual assholish self.

Ugh.

I suddenly felt no desire to socialize.

Still, I had already agreed to a drink…

And maybe I had misjudged the Italian. He seemed pleasant enough.

“Why don’t we sit?” he suggested.

“I’d love to,” I said, and led him to one of the booths set into the wall.

I made some small talk, but it soon became apparent that the Italian wasn’t the best conversationalist. He seemed lost as to what to say – like a schoolboy who hadn’t learned how to talk to girls yet. I could see the wheels spinning in his head as he tried to figure out his next sentence.

I felt for him, but I was also a little bit annoyed.

My job required me to make all my customers comfortable. I was the one who always alleviated everyone else’s anxieties upon entering De Sade.

If a man was going to hit on me, the least he could do was not make me carry the conversation – no matter how handsome he was.

Luckily, Jiangbei interrupted the uncomfortable silence when she set down my drink.

“Thank you,” I said in Cantonese. She nodded and walked away.

Now that the Italian had something new to discuss, he seemed relieved. We talked about the cocktail for a moment until I asked, “So – what is it that you do, Roberto?”

He paused. “I’m in finance.”

Just like 75% of our Western clientele.

I forced a polite smile. “We have quite a few customers in that field.”

“So you work here?”

I was the manager and part owner, but I didn’t feel like getting into the details. “In a manner of speaking.”

The Italian opened his mouth – closed it – and then opened it again. “I…”

The tongue-tied schoolboy was back.

I waited for him to figure out what he wanted to say.

Maybe You’re so beautiful.

Which was nice, but after hearing it for the 10,000th time, it became a bit stale.

Or I really love Asians, which always made my skin crawl.

Or the worst of both worlds: You’re so beautiful… for an Asian.

Unfortunately, that was something I heard at least twice a month.

He hit me with something that wasn’t nearly that offensive – although it was offensive, and depressingly common.

“How much would it be to spend the evening with you?”

Which was a Westerner’s way of asking, How much do I have to pay to fuck you?

I kept a smile plastered on my face, although inwardly I was angry. And tired.

I wanted to say, I’m the manager of the club.

I’m not a streetwalker.

You can’t BUY me.

If you want that, go to the red-light district.

But I didn’t.

I did, however, allow myself a tiny little twist of the knife when I answered.

“You don’t have enough money to spend the evening with me, Mr. Rosolini.”

He looked shocked.

Then he got a look in his eyes – the look of a rich man who was accustomed to being able to buy whatever he wanted.

Whomever he wanted.

I recognized it in the eyes of the German I’d just thrown out.

“What about $10,000 per hour of your time?”

I knew he expected the amount to impress me –

Although he was thinking of US dollars.

In Hong Kong dollars, he’d only offered me $1300 US – the base rate for one hour with one of our newest, most inexperienced subs.

Still, $10,000 US an hour was impressive –

If it hadn’t been for the fact that his offer turned my stomach.

His entitlement –

His assumption that I could be bought just because I was in the club (a club I ran and part-owned) –

All I could do was scoff at him.

“No, thank you.”

That seemed to piss him off.

“I don’t understand – you said that you work here, did you not?”

Not as a prostitute, you ASSHOLE.

“You said that,” I replied. “I said, ‘In a manner of speaking.’”

His irritation notched up a couple of levels – just like the German had reacted when I’d walked into the room. “So what does that mean, exactly?”

Prostitution is legal in Deutschland! Vy not here?!

I’d had enough, and I was tired of playing the consummate hostess to powerful men who thought they could have anything they wanted.

“It means I own De Sade, Mr. Rosolini.”

Okay…

Not precisely true.

I was a part owner with only a 10% stake.

But telling him I was a ‘10% owner’ didn’t exactly carry the same rhetorical oomph.

The truth would have made him laugh at me –

And I would have ending up throwing my drink in his face.

So a little white lie was better.

He looked embarrassed.

In fact, his expression made me feel a little bad about how I’d reacted.

“…ah… I apologize. I’m unfamiliar with the club and how things work around here.”

Suddenly I didn’t feel so bad anymore.

Like NOT knowing how things work is an excuse.

Foreigners had to know our traffic laws before they drove in Hong Kong.

Or tried to bring a gun into the country.

Or any of a dozen other things.

But put a rich Westerner in a club like De Sade, and he just assumed everything was for sale – and that it was your responsibility to educate him instead of putting in the effort himself.

“You could have asked,” I said. “Instead of assuming.”

And just like the German, the Italian became irritable.

“Alright, let me ask you this,” he snapped. “You seem to have taken offense that I assumed you work here. But what’s so wrong with that? You own the club; surely you value your employees and their work. What’s so wrong with someone mistaking you for an employee?”

“I assume from your expensive suit and Rolex that you’re very successful in finance, Mr. Rosolini. Am I correct?”

He looked at me warily. “I have the means, and I like to dress this way, so I do.”

“But you are very successful at your profession, are you not?”

“More or less.”

“How would you like it if a visitor mistook you for an entry-level accountant?” I asked.

“It wouldn’t bother me in the slightest.”

BULLSHIT!

No Westerner we’d ever thrown out of De Sade had been so humble.

They always screamed variations on Do you know who I AM?!

Usually it was, Do you know how much I’m WORTH?!

As though money was everything.

“Given the status and wealth you project, I find that hard to believe,” I said.

He gave me an unfriendly smile. “It’s a family business, so it’s not like I’m the CFO of a major corporation. If I were mistaken for one of my very few employees, all of whom are excellent at what they do – as I said, it wouldn’t bother me in the slightest.”

…hm.

Clever answer.

“Let me change the question, then,” I said. “How would you feel if someone asked you to fetch them coffee? Or do some other menial job?”

“So you consider your employees’ work to be menial?”

He was good at arguing, I’d give him that…

But I wasn’t in the mood to be argued with.

Especially after the German.

“No… but when I’m the owner, and since my employees’ work is sexual in nature, I don’t like to be propositioned for whatever it is you think you can buy me for, Mr. Rosolini.”

He looked flustered at my reaction. “I wasn’t – ”

Before he could continue, I stood up abruptly.

“Since this is my club, and since you didn’t actually pay for my drink, I think our time is at an end.” I gave him a fake-as-hell smile. “You’re welcome to ask any of my employees what they’re willing to do, but I would advise you to ASK… rather than assuming you already know. Good evening, Mr. Rosolini.”

And I turned around and stalked off.

My blood was pumping, my adrenaline was up –

And I’d actually said what I wanted to say instead of playing the demure little flower.

I didn’t realize it at the time – it took about ten minutes for me to get over my anger –

But I’d actually sort of enjoyed the interaction.

It was far more interesting than being asked what my name meant or being told I was beautiful.

And he had been quite handsome.

Too bad he was an asshole…

Just like all the rest of them.

73

The remainder of the evening passed uneventfully.

There were a few minor things. For instance, I had to pull one of my doms out of a session when the female client expressed discomfort with him.

A male client had to be reprimanded when he propositioned one of my subs for sex. However, he meekly apologized and continued the session without incident.

He was nothing like the German…

Or the handsome Italian.

Strangely enough, I found myself scanning the bar area for him –

Roberto Rosolini.

Once I’d calmed down, I considered that perhaps I had overreacted.

Okay…

I had definitely overreacted.

I was prepared to talk to him again and try to smooth things over…

And realized I was the tiniest bit disappointed when I didn’t see him.

My disappointment disappeared when I asked Jiangbei about him.

She told me he’d left with Han a few minutes after our ‘discussion.’

If he’s hanging out with Han, he IS an asshole, I thought, and promptly forgot all about him.

I left De Sade at 4 AM, drove home, ate a microwaved frozen dinner, and promptly collapsed into bed.

I woke around noon, showered, and dressed in normal street clothes. Five minutes later, I was driving down the tree-lined road towards Hong Kong in my silver Bentley convertible.

When I reached the club, I parked in the underground garage and took the elevator.

Bowen, my assistant and De Sade’s daytime manager, was waiting for me with a report on the previous night’s receipts.

“1.87 million,” he said as he held up the zippered pouch we used for the club’s cash receipts.

1.87 million Hong Kong dollars was equivalent to $240,000 US.

“Plus another 990,000 in Bitcoin and Ether transactions,” Bowen said as he tucked a flash drive and a piece of white computer paper into the pouch. Both the paper and the flash drive listed the crypto accounts the 990,000 had come from.

More and more of our customers’ payments were in crypto. Only cash payments were more discreet.

2.86 million Hong Kong dollars total…

So, about $366,000 US dollars.

Not bad.

Of course, a little over half of that would go to payroll. At $1200 to $5000 US dollars per hour, my subs and doms were some of the most highly compensated in all of Asia’s fetish scene – but they were worth it. I only hired the best.

Still, that left around $180,000 in gross profit.

After rent, utilities, support staff wages, alcohol, and other items, I would net around $15,000 US, given my 10% stake in the club.

Not bad for a night’s work.

But for the first time since last night, I thought of the handsome Italian man and his offer to pay me $10,000 per hour.

Say we’d spent three hours together.

I could have made twice as much money…

Although I would have had to trade away my self-respect to do it.

So… no.

Still…

He had been very handsome.

And Italians were reputed to be great lovers.

Although, if he had to pay for it, he probably wasn’t that good.

And God only knows what he wanted me to do for that amount of money.

I pushed him out of my mind and took the pouch from Bowen.

“See you this evening,” I said.

My workday started at 6 PM. De Sade entertained customers 24 hours a day, but the real money didn’t start flowing until night fell.

“See you later, boss,” Bowen replied as I headed for the elevator.

As I drove away from De Sade, I mused that anyone who tried to carjack me could have made a lot of money very quickly.

But no triad gangster would dare try –

Because they knew who I worked for.

Only an amateur would be stupid enough to attempt it.

And even if he killed me, he would be hunted down and slaughtered within an hour.

Which is why I felt completely safe driving around Hong Kong with over a third of a million US dollars in my lap.

I finally reached my destination and parked in the underground garage. I took the elevator to the lobby, and from there went to the 70th floor.

Eu-Meh was working reception. We exchanged smiles as she buzzed me through.

I went straight to Accounting and Mr. Gongsun’s office.

Gongsun was a fat, middle-aged man with thinning hair and dark circles under his eyes.

He stared at me as he did every time I saw him, his lecherous gaze pausing at my breasts before his eyes reached my face.

I had to say this for the handsome Italian: he might have been a jerk, but at least he hadn’t leered at me like I was a piece of meat.

“Good haul?” Gongsun asked in Cantonese.

“Typical weekday,” I replied as I laid the zippered pouch on his desk.

He pulled out the money and the flash drive, then looked at the paper with the crypto totals on it.

“By the way, Mr. Lau wants to see you,” he said absent-mindedly.

My stomach tightened.

Lau never asked to see me.

“About what?” I asked.

“How should I know?” Gongsun said crossly as he plugged the flash drive into his computer.

I turned to leave.

“See you tomorrow,” he said, and I knew he was staring at my ass as I walked out of the room.

I didn’t bother to respond.

I checked in with Mrs. Feng, Lau’s harpy of a secretary. She made me wait 15 minutes before letting me into his office.

When I entered, Lau was sitting behind his desk in his customary Nehru suit. Today it was light blue.

He was looking at reports on paper. He rarely used a computer; he preferred having everything printed out for him, even his emails.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” I asked in Cantonese.

“Ah, Ms. Chan,” he replied without looking up at me. “Please, sit.”

I took one of the chairs opposite him and sat down nervously. I felt like a little girl who had been summoned to the principal’s office.

Lau perused the papers for another 60 seconds before finally putting them aside. Then he looked up at me and gave me that fake grandfatherly smile.

It was like a Great White had somehow learned to give its prey a disarming grin that disguised its rows of jagged teeth.

“How are you, Ms. Chan?” he asked pleasantly.

“I’m well, Mr. Lau.”

“Good. I heard you had a bit of an altercation with a laowai last night.”

Laowai was the term for a foreigner – typically a white Westerner.

Though not exactly a slur, it wasn’t the most complimentary term.

I had no idea how Lau had heard about the German. Even odder was that he cared. I usually had to throw out two or three customers a week, and Lau had never asked about it before.

Not since the Russian.

He didn’t give a damn until somebody died.

“It was nothing,” I said. “A German customer got irate, so we refunded him and escorted him out.”

“Not the German,” Lau said pleasantly. “The Italian.”

I frowned. How did he know about –

Then I realized.

Han.

That piece of crap must have told Lau.

“I wouldn’t call it an ‘altercation,’” I said with a forced smile. “Merely a little argument.”

“About what?”

“He propositioned me.”

“Oh?” Lau said, as though mildly surprised.

“Yes. I told him I wasn’t interested. He didn’t take it so well.”

“I see.”

Lau stood up from his chair and walked around the desk towards me.

My stomach immediately lurched.

Lau never came out from behind his desk.

Not unless it was really bad.

He perched on the edge of his desk and gazed down at me with that fake grandfatherly smile of his. In this new position, he towered above me.

“That laowai was one of my primary investors,” he said.

My stomach plummeted.

“…oh,” I said meekly.

Lau’s smile disappeared.

“Yes – ‘oh,’” he sneered mockingly.

“I had no idea,” I protested. “He didn’t mention anything about you – ”

“He was with Mr. Han. That should have been a clue.”

“Han brings all sorts of scuzzy laowai to the club,” I said, a bit more boldly than was prudent.

Lau scowled. “Well, this laowai is different. If he returns to De Sade, you are to keep him happy. You are to acquiesce to anything he wants. Do you understand?”

I wanted to snarl, Even if he wants to fuck me like a prostitute?

However, I kept my voice calm and measured. “I really don’t think – ”

“I also heard you told the laowai you own De Sade,” Lau interrupted. “Imagine how surprised I was to hear that.”

My stomach felt like it had dropped out of my body and was somewhere ten floors below me.

“Sir,” I said, my voice trembling, “I – ”

“It would be a pity if I had to remind you of your actual position within our little pecking order. Say, if I had to demonstrate it in front of your staff. Wouldn’t you agree?”

A chill went down my spine as I imagined him humiliating me in front of all my employees.

He would do it. I knew he would – without a doubt.

“…yes, sir,” I said meekly.

Lau stared down at me for another 10 seconds without saying a thing.

I knew better than to speak or even look at him.

I just stared straight ahead in silence.

Finally, he spoke. “If the laowai comes back, do what he wants. Keep him occupied. Am I understood?”

“Perfectly, sir,” I whispered.

“Good.” Then he gave me the grandfatherly smile again. “You may go.”

He stood up from where he was perched and walked back around the desk.

I was out of the office before he sat down.

74

As I drove home after my meeting with Lau, I thought about his instructions – and the implied threat if I didn’t follow through.

Both made me seethe with anger.

What was I supposed to do for the Italian, exactly?

Go down on him if he demanded it?

Drop my panties and bend over without a word?

By the time I reached the Summit, my anger had become rage, and it overwhelmed my fear.

I wanted to kill Lau, Han, and the Italian.

Especially Han.

That fucking asshole… running and snitching to his boss…

As I made myself a microwave dinner and picked at it with a fork, I daydreamed unhappily for the thousandth time about how I could extricate myself from Lau’s control.

And for the thousandth time, I saw no way out.

Thinking about it made me lose my appetite, so I tossed my half-eaten meal in the trash and got ready for work.

I arrived at De Sade shortly after 5.

After checking in with Bowen so he could go home, I began to settle into my nightly routine –

And was immediately interrupted by Chun, the hostess on duty for the evening.

She looked pale as a ghost.

“Mr. Han said to meet him by the bar,” she whimpered.

I seethed inwardly but forced a smile. “Thank you, Chun.”

As I walked towards the lounge, I returned to my earlier daydreams about how I might dispatch Mr. Han.

Something slow and very, very painful…

But then my breath caught in my throat when I saw him:

The Italian.

He had his back to me and hadn’t seen me yet.

Lau’s words echoed in my ears:

If he returns to De Sade, you are to keep him happy. You are to acquiesce to ANYTHING he wants. Do you understand?

I understood all too well.

And now I was going to have to follow through.

Han’s dead eyes locked onto me, and he said something to the Italian I couldn’t hear.

Now I had no choice. I kept on walking.

The Italian turned around.

I expected to see a smirk of triumph on his face – the look of an entitled man who had put an uppity little bitch in her place –

And was surprised to see pure happiness instead.

Before I could speak, he said, “I came to apologize and make a peace offering.”

God, he was even more handsome than I’d remembered…

But I was still irritated that I had to do whatever he wanted.

“A peace offering, hm?”

“Yes. Have you had dinner yet?”

I remembered the half-eaten food I’d thrown in the trash. “No.”

“Then I’d like to invite you to dinner.”

Yay.

Wonderful.

He could ask me what my name meant again while he slid his hand up under my dress.

“I’m at work, Mr. Rosolini,” I said, attempting to brush him off – or at least delay the unpleasantness.

“I’ll have you back in plenty of time for when the club gets busy. If you go with me, I promise you one of the best meals of your life – not to mention one of the most interesting experiences you’ve ever had.”

I had to admit, his offer was more original than anything he’d said last night.

And the earnestness with which he said it…

And the kindness in his voice…

It annoyed me to realize he was slowly winning me over.

“I don’t know,” I said, trying not to give in to his boyish charm. “I’ve had lots of interesting experiences.”

“Then you’ll have the pleasure of mocking me over what I consider ‘interesting.’ Plus, you can exact any punishment you wish for my wasting your time.”

Hm.

Maybe he wasn’t quite as bland as I’d thought.

If I could follow Lau’s orders by only having to flog the crap out of him… that might not be so bad.

I arched one eyebrow. “Really.”

He grinned. “…within reason.”

Okay…

I’ll admit, his delivery was funny.

Though I still didn’t feel like I could trust anything he said.

“This strikes me as a very conservative step back from your offer last night.”

“My offer last night was based on what I assumed were the rules of your club,” he replied. “My offer now is what I really want: to spend time with you. To get to know you.”

Damn it…

There he went with that charming earnestness again.

“And what if I said no?” I asked.

“Then I would ask again.”

He sounded more confident – almost flirty.

So I flirted back the tiniest bit.

“And what if I said ‘no’ again?”

He took a small step forward. “Being told ‘no’ doesn’t bother me. In fact, I actually like being told ‘no.’ It heightens the pleasure when I get what I want.”

Oh.

The sudden shift intrigued me.

Before, he’d been a boy scout wanting to make amends.

Now there was a sultry note in his voice…

The tone of a man who knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it.

I gazed at him steadily, trying to take his measure –

And realized that I saw no malice or viciousness in his eyes.

I thought of my little Thai salesman saying Ten baht over and over again, and couldn’t help but smile.

Alright.

I’d play along.

“Ask me again,” I said.

“Say yes,” he replied with a mischievous smile.

“No.”

“Say yes,” he said, his voice suddenly deeper… more commanding.

“No.”

Suddenly, he surprised me.

He stepped forward right in front of me, so close that he could have kissed me.

My heart skipped a beat as I saw up close just how handsome he was.

And whatever cologne he was wearing, he smelled damn good.

“Say yes,” he murmured in a deep, seductive voice.

…oh my.

Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be a chore to have dinner with him.

“Alright,” I agreed.

75

Ihad to admit, Roberto far exceeded every expectation I had.

From the choice of the restaurant…

To greeting the head chef and owner like an old friend…

To the private tasting in the kitchen…

And making our own homemade pasta by mixing the dough with our hands…

I experienced something I hadn’t felt in a long, long time:

Fun.

Child-like, exuberant fun.

Add in the delicious food and the spectacular wine, and I was flying high as we took our seats in the main dining room.

And then he surprised me even more.

We were flirting pretty heavily. I had forgotten all about Lau’s order to do what Roberto wanted; I was just enjoying our repartee.

He asked me if I participated in De Sade’s ‘activities.’

“On occasion. Not at the club, though. Never at the club. I keep my personal life and work life separate.”

To be honest, it had been forever since I’d done anything with a partner. The stress of my job had forced me to be ‘all work and no play’ for nearly a year.

I asked him if he was in the scene. He told me ‘no’ and that he had to be discreet.

“My family wouldn’t exactly understand my… specific desires,” he said.

“And what are these ‘specific desires’?”

He stared directly into my eyes. “Control.”

A shiver ran down my spine when he said it.

“Domination?” I asked.

“I guess you could call it that.”

Then the conversation got around to me.

“What do you enjoy?” he asked in a low voice.

I thought about not telling him.

It wasn’t any of his business.

But part of me…

Part of me was hoping he might want to play.

“I like being tied up,” I said quietly.

As soon as I said it, his eyes darkened. I could feel his desire radiating out over me.

I realized with a bit of shock that I was turned on, too.

Very turned on.

WAY too turned on.

GOD he was hot…

When he started to speak, I interrupted and tried to reassert control. “No, I get to ask you a question now.”

He smiled at me like he enjoyed seeing me flustered…

And then he agreed.

I should have asked him something neutral, something mundane.

But the bloom of heat I felt between my legs won out.

“When did you first know?”

“When I was 20.”

“What happened?” I asked, my mouth watering.

He held my eyes for the longest time…

Then looked at his Rolex.

“Oh, no – look at the time. I have to get you back to work.”

What a fucking tease!

“NO!” I cried out as I slapped his arm.

“What can I do? I promised.”

“You coward!”

“Not at all. I’m just not going to tell you that story here.”

“Why not?”

“It’s private. And slightly scandalous. Not for your club, obviously – but for an establishment like this, it’s a bit risqué, and I wouldn’t want it overheard.”

I knew where this was heading.

I knew exactly what he was going to say next…

And I found, to my surprise, that I wanted him to say it.

“Where would you tell me, then?”

His gaze was hypnotic as he murmured, “At your place. Over a drink.”

This is a bad idea, Mei-ling.

You shouldn’t do this…

But I wanted to.

Desperately wanted to, in fact.

And for the second time that evening, I agreed to what he asked.

“Alright,” I whispered.

76

After we got back to my apartment and had a drink, Roberto told me his story –

And again he surprised me.

I listened to the tale of his first sexual experience with growing fascination.

I’d expected a blustery tale of Italian male ego, complete with how a-maaaaazing he was on the very first try.

What I hadn’t anticipated was the depth of vulnerability he allowed me to see – or his humility in actually asking a woman to teach him.

Other women might have disliked the part about a sex worker.

But I’d spent time as a dominatrix for hire, which is technically sex work. So I appreciated that he treated the woman in his story with dignity and respect – and even admiration, given that she’d taught him ‘everything he knew.’

I couldn’t wait to hear what she’d taught him –

And then he wouldn’t tell me, the little fucking tease.

So when he said he’d show me, well…

I was curious.

And he was incredibly handsome.

There was the same chorus of voices in my head I’d heard back in the restaurant –

This is a bad idea!

You shouldn’t do this!

But the Why not? voice won out.

It was one of the best choices I ever made in my life.

I took him to my bedroom, lit some candles, and teased him about how he was supposed to show me everything he’d learned.

I was a bit taken aback when he said, “And as I recall, you said you liked to be tied up.”

I thought we were just going to have vanilla sex.

Yes, I’d told him I enjoyed being tied up…

But bondage was normally something I only did with people I trusted deeply.

As soon as he said it, though, a thrill ran through my body.

A sensation of danger and excitement – and pure desire –

That I hadn’t felt in years…

Not since that night in the sex club in Bangkok.

However, I knew so much more now than I had then.

At the time, I hadn’t realized how stupid it was to put my safety in the hands of a stranger without knowing if he was properly trained.

And yet…

It had been one of the most erotic and fulfilling sexual experiences I’d ever had.

It had also been my first step towards an entirely new life.

As I stood there hesitating, my head battling it out with my heart (to be honest, more like ‘battling it out with my pussy’) –

Roberto unexpectedly calmed me with his empathy.

“You have to trust me before you’re willing to do that,” he suggested.

I nodded.

He smiled. “Surely you have some scarves we could tie to the posts and wrap around your wrists without tying any knots. That way, you could get out whenever you want.”

Damn…

Maybe he had done this before.

I was still hesitating…

When he spoke in a way I hadn’t heard before.

“Get them,” he said in a sexy, commanding voice.

OH.

I felt a stirring in my nether regions and a quickening of my pulse.

We’d flirted extensively with Roberto ‘telling me three times’ on several occasions –

But he’d never used that voice before.

In the battle between my head and pussy, Ms. Pussy won. Decisively.

I retrieved some scarves from my dresser that I used for bondage play and set them on the bed.

He examined one between his fingers…

Then walked over to my bed frame and started tying the scarves to the posts.

When he gestured for me to get on the bed, my nerves made me shy – and I tried to play it off with humor. “You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

“I will when the time’s right. Now get on the bed.”

Jesus…

That VOICE again…

I decided to play along.

I hopped up onto the bed…

But I also gave him a bit of resistance by crossing my legs and seeing what he would do.

“Not far enough,” he said –

Then scooped me up and threw me backwards onto the mattress.

It was both fun and exhilarating –

And very, very sexy.

I hadn’t been with many partners who could toss me around like that.

He didn’t look like a bodybuilder in his suit… he was more wiry than muscular…

But he could throw me around like a rag doll.

Still, when I realized just how physically powerful he was, I felt a tiny bit of fear.

“Well, that was a bit forward,” I joked.

(If you haven’t noticed yet, I tend to cover my nervousness with humor.)

He smiled and said, “We’re well past the point of my being a ‘bit’ forward.”

And then he looped the first scarf around my forearm.

I was immediately putty in his hands.

A lot of women who aren’t into kink don’t understand why I find bondage so hot.

It’s hard to explain.

It’s certainly not rational…

And a lot of it has to do with how desire and being restrained were first linked in my brain back when I was 16.

The best way of describing it is this:

Imagine (if you’re straight) that the hottest guy in the world is in front of you…

And he has the most beautiful, astoundingly hot cock you’ve ever seen. It makes you drip with desire just to look at it.

It’s rock hard…

You want it inside you so bad…

And then it brushes up against your bare arm.

You feel how hot his skin is…

How soft it is on the surface…

Yet how hard it is underneath…

And now you want him inside you ten times worse.

That’s what it felt like when I got tied up:

That kind of need…

And want…

And anticipation.

All I knew was that when Roberto put the scarf around my arm, I wanted him to tie me up completely…

And I wanted him to fuck me.

He secured the other scarf the same way – looping it around my wrist several times. I had the sensation of being bound, but I knew I could easily get out if I wanted.

Then he walked to the foot of the bed and looked down at me.

I stared up at him, my heart thudding in my chest, and wondered what he would do.

I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

He gently grabbed my ankles –

And yanked me forcefully across the bed.

I cried out in surprise.

My ass was right at the edge of the bed –

My legs were now on either side of him –

And I could feel my dress bunched up.

But my arms were also tied to the posts –

Which was hot as fuck.

My breathing grew shallow as I waited to see what he would do.

I figured he would just whip out his dick and start fucking me.

Part of me couldn’t wait –

And part of me was like, Meh.

It had been so hot and unexpected thus far –

It would’ve been a shame to follow it with something so mundane.

Luckily, Roberto wasn’t into ‘mundane.’

He began to slowly caress my thighs.

The sensation was lovely…

But it was the feeling of my arms being bound – and my not being able to stop him – that really turned me on.

His fingers moved up beneath my dress…

Then gently pulled my panties to the side.

I gasped.

I was expecting him to finger me.

I wasn’t sure whether I wanted that or not –

And it was the fear vying with my desire – reluctance versus anticipation – that made it so hot.

And yet… he didn’t do it.

Instead, he softly traced his fingertip over my pussy…

Until he reached my clit…

And started gently stroking my hood.

Oh FUCK.

Most men just went right to town, rubbing as hard and as fast as they could –

But he was teasing me –

Torturing me with soft caresses.

Combine that with feeling powerless from being bound, and it was overwhelming.

My eyes rolled back in my head –

Until he used the Voice again.

“Look at me.”

Deep…

Commanding…

Overwhelmingly masculine.

My eyes snapped right back to his.

He stared at me hypnotically in the candlelight…

As his fingertip kept slowly increasing the ecstasy between my legs.

I wanted to make him go faster –

I wanted to unwind my arms from the scarves and force him to touch me harder –

But I couldn’t.

All I could do was give in.

oh my fucking God what is he DOING to me –

My eyes rolled back in my head again –

Then came the Voice.

“Look at me.”

I struggled to keep my eyes open –

It was so hard –

I wanted him to fuck me so bad –

I wanted to COME so fucking BAD –

And then he took it a step further.

He pulled back my hood and touched my clit…

But it was so soft that I wasn’t actually sure if he’d done it.

I mean, he had –

I think –

Right?

All I knew was that he was driving me fucking crazy.

It was the anticipation of pleasure, the need for more –

And he wouldn’t fucking give it to me.

Well, okay, that’s not entirely accurate.

He did give me more and more pleasure…

But soooooo slow…

And sooooo soft…

That I wanted it harder –

Faster –

Firmer.

I wanted his cock buried deep inside me –

But he just kept touching me…

In a way I’d never been touched before, ever.

He gave me these little strokes that made me feel high, like I was on drugs –

And then he would suddenly stroke firmer in another direction, and it was like UNNNH, OH FUCK –

And then it would be the light, soft, little touches that made me almost cry with frustration –

And then a meaty stroke that made me groan like he was filling me up with his cock.

WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING TO ME?!

I was losing my fucking MIND.

I wanted to come so bad –

And I was close, so close –

And yet I couldn’t!

“Look at me.”

The Voice again.

That sexy, overpowering growl…

A command I couldn’t disobey.

That I didn’t want to disobey.

I struggled to look into his eyes, but it was so hard.

I was delirious with pleasure and longing and unfulfilled need.

I struggled against my bonds in frustration, which only made me hotter and want it more.

I tried pressing my hips forward, to grind my clit against his finger, so I could get some fucking release and finally COME –

But he would always back off, teasing me, taking me higher.

I wanted to come so bad –

I needed to come SO BAD!

“Please,” I groaned. “PLEASE!”

“Please what?” he whispered as he kept caressing me.

I wanted his cock filling me up –

I wanted it inside me so fucking bad –

“Fuck me,” I moaned.

“No. Not yet.”

I lifted my head and stared at him.

I’d never begged a guy to fuck me before and have him tell me ‘no.’

But he kept stroking me.

I was right on the fucking edge, and he wouldn’t let me come!

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I…”

“What do want?” he growled.

“I want to come! I NEED to come!” I cried, nearly in tears from frustration.

“Alright. I’ll let you come… but only if you do what I say. Do you agree?”

At that point, I’d have done whatever he wanted.

“Yes – yes! Anything!”

“Alright – but don’t come until I tell you. Agreed?”

“Okay, yes, okay!” I cried out.

He used the Voice again, growling, “Look at me the whole time.”

I looked at him. It felt like I was stoned, it was so hard to focus on him.

“Don’t come,” he ordered.

“I won’t,” I moaned.

Suddenly, he gave it to me –

The delicious fucking bliss of his finger pressing firmer against me –

But I’d promised not to come.

The Voice had told me not to.

But it was so hard –

I could feel my entire body begging, weeping, screaming, trembling for release –

“DON’T COME,” the Voice snarled.

I was drowning in his gaze…

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck

I gritted my teeth and went through heaven and hell all at once – wanting it so bad, but holding myself back.

He was rubbing me harder now, making it that much more difficult to hold on.

OH FUCK

“DON’T COME!” the Voice roared, and his eyes were the only thing I could see.

I couldn’t hold on anymore. It was too much.

“OH GOD!” I screamed.

I felt like I might rip apart the scarves around my arms –

When suddenly his fingers filled me up, thicker and better than any cock I’d ever felt –

And a stroke on my clit that made me go insane –

As he whispered, “Come for me.”

It was like lightning passed between us –

And I lost all control.

I was screaming, thrashing, arching up off the mattress as the biggest, most powerful orgasm I’d ever had ripped through me, head to toe.

For what felt like forever, there wasn’t a single thought in my head –

Just ecstasy.

His fingers were still circling me – too much, too much pleasure, it was too much –

And then, slowly, he eased up…

And stopped.

I collapsed on the mattress, sweat pouring off my body, my dress soaked, and my legs quivering uncontrollably.

Roberto slowly rubbed my legs… massaging me for several minutes… until I felt like I finally had control over my body again.

I stared up at him the entire time…

And felt nothing but warmth, affection, and pure longing in his gaze.

I wasn’t sure I could handle him being inside me right now…

In fact, I was pretty sure I couldn’t.

I was on the verge of telling we couldn’t do anything – not yet –

When he walked around the side of the bed and undid the scarf on my left arm.

Then he did the same thing on my right.

As the cloth slid off my skin, another shudder of pleasure wracked my body, and I moaned, “Oh my GOD.”

He stood there grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

Maybe…

Just maybe…

I could do something to get him off, too.

“So… what happens next?” I asked breathlessly.

He did something I was not expecting.

He looked down at his watch and said, “My driver’s only here for another 10 minutes, so I better go.”

Then he turned and walked away.

…WHAT?!

What the fucking –

“WHAT?!” I yelled after him, enraged and incensed.

He grinned at me over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to be presumptuous about staying too long.”

He was doing a callback to something I’d said earlier, when I’d teased him about how long he would be at my place.

Then he walked out of the room.

What the –

MOTHERFUCKER!

As I got up from the bed, my legs nearly buckled, they were so weak.

But I was so fucking mad, I forced myself onwards anyway.

As I stomped out of the bedroom, I saw that he’d stopped in his tracks.

“You fucking ASSHOLE!” I shouted –

At which point he turned around and swept me off my feet.

Literally.

I was more than shocked as he kissed me –

But then I realized this was all just part of his little stage play.

Bastard, I thought –

But damn, he was a good kisser.

I gave in and kissed him back.

Finally, he stood me upright and set me back on my feet.

“You planned that,” I said in an accusatory voice.

He laughed mischievously, then kissed me again.

Mmmmmm…

Then he stepped back. “I want to see you again tomorrow night. Are you free?”

Oh no – you don’t get off the hook THAT easily, Mister.

“You know, I should figure out some clever way to manipulate you like you just did to me.”

He grinned and pulled me against him –

And I felt his cock for the first time.

OH.

Oh my GOD.

He was hard as steel beneath his pants…

And much bigger than I was used to.

I cupped his shaft through his pants to feel his girth and length…

And wanted him inside me more than ever.

“Don’t you want to do something about this?” I cooed –

But he shocked me by pulling my hand away. “Tomorrow. Are you free?”

This guy!

I keep throwing myself at him, and THIS is what he does?

“No, I have to work,” I said crossly.

“Take the night off.”

He had that mischievous look whenever he was about to say something three times…

Which, despite my annoyance with him, I quite liked.

“No,” I said, barely able to keep a straight face.

“Take the night off.”

I summoned my inner Teenage Brat. “No!”

He suddenly grabbed my ass and pulled me against him hard –

And I felt his cock again.

Ohhhhh…

“Take the night off,” he said, using the Voice.

Between the look in his eye, his commanding tone, and what he had in his pants, I was left a little breathless.

“…okay.”

We exchanged a few more words about him coming over the next night, and then I saw him out.

One last kiss and he was gone.

As I leaned against my closed apartment door, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, I realized something:

Though Lau had told me to do whatever Roberto wanted, I had never once thought about the old man and his orders.

Everything that had happened tonight had been amazing…

And I’d done it completely of my own free will.

I couldn’t wait to see Roberto again.

77

Our next meeting happened the following night.

He gave me a gift of silk scarves for bondage; I served him a meal delivered from my favorite local restaurant.

And we had ‘the talk’ about consent and boundaries.

Things went mostly as expected.

I was mildly surprised he wanted to forego condoms and that he was interested in anal sex.

He seemed so… conservative.

On the other hand, I ran a BDSM club. I had tons of proof that conservative appearances were no indication of what a person enjoyed in bed.

The big surprise was when Roberto told me, “I like to take without asking.”

Oh.

The idea of him taking what he wanted…

It felt dangerous.

But also very, very hot.

I still wanted to be safe, so I explained the red-yellow-green color system.

He had a pretty funny counter-proposal, which he called ‘a time-honored system from Italy’:

I should just slap his wrist if I didn’t like something.

After we talked, I took him to bed.

And that’s when things got super fucking hot.

The foreplay was amazing…

The way he went down on me was heavenly…

But what I really wanted was to see his cock.

I’d been thinking about it ever since last night when he’d denied me a look.

Fantasizing about it…

Wondering how big it was.

Part of me worried that he’d kept it hidden for a reason.

Maybe he was really small –

Although it had seemed big enough when I’d felt it pressing against me.

I shouldn’t have worried.

He was definitely bigger than any man I’d ever been with. Much bigger.

And his cock was gorgeous. My mouth watered at the sight of it.

Now, I must admit it was a little odd that he remained completely clothed…

But the contrast of his big, thick, rock-hard cock jutting from the fly of his tailored pants?

Incredibly sexy.

And the power imbalance of him being clothed while I was completely naked?

I liked it.

And I couldn’t wait to see where he took it.

When he put on a condom (to my relief) and slipped inside me the first time, I gasped.

Not only was he bigger than any of my previous partners, but it had been a long time since I’d had sex. I hadn’t even used a dildo in over three months, so I wasn’t used to having that much inside me.

The sensation of being filled up was incredible.

Then he started stroking my clit…

As the head of his cock rubbed against my g-spot.

Fuuuuuck.

I think I started moaning in Cantonese –

And then I heard him say, “Look at me.”

It wasn’t quite the Voice – not commanding enough, not dark enough – but I still made the effort to peer into his eyes.

“Don’t come,” Roberto nodded.

Ah.

This was the ‘control’ part that got him off.

I decided to play his little game and nodded.

Then he began to fuck me harder. Faster.

I let my head hit the mattress again –

“Look at me.”

I struggled to obey his orders.

“Don’t come,” he said.

However, my orgasm was building fast.

I wasn’t quite there yet, but I was getting close.

“Please – ” I moaned.

“NO.”

OH FUCK.

He’d used the Voice.

It sent a thrill of desire through my pussy –

And a shiver of fear up and down my spine.

I nodded and did my best to hold back.

It was one of the most difficult things I’d ever attempted.

Roberto was incredible in bed – caressing my clit and fucking me all at once –

And I felt my body rebelling as I tried not to climax.

I wanted to so bad –

But the Voice reeled me back in every time and made me obey.

It was getting to the point where I couldn’t hold out any more –

When his cock suddenly pulled out of me, and his finger disappeared from my clit.

It was like having the most delicious piece of chocolate melting on your tongue –

And then somebody yanked it out and stuffed a lemon in your mouth.

It was that big of a contrast.

I had been frantic to come –

And now I couldn’t.

“ROBERTO!”

I yelled at him; that didn’t work.

I begged; that didn’t work, either.

He just stood there with a knowing smirk, like he knew exactly how badly I wanted his cock.

“Where are your toys?” he asked.

“I don’t want them!” I protested. “I want you – ”

And that’s when the Voice came out again.

“Where are your toys?”

I swallowed hard – a little afraid of what he might have planned – but said, “In the top drawer of the nightstand.”

Within 30 seconds, he was back at the bed, still fully dressed with the condom covering his cock…

Except he had a vibrator, some lube, and one of my dildos.

This was either going to be a lot of fun…

Or really fucked up.

“What are you doing?” I asked nervously.

He didn’t answer, which unnerved me even more.

He just lubed up his index finger, warming it up…

And then slowly eased his fingertip between my ass cheeks.

Oh fuck!

I actually liked ass play, but not until I was well into a relationship –

And completely trusted a man.

I liked Roberto – a lot – and I really wanted to fuck him –

But I wasn’t so sure about the trust part yet.

“Wait – red!” I protested, using the color system.

He stopped, to his credit.

“Let me touch you,” he said softly.

“No.”

His voice grew sexier as he repeated, “Let me touch you.”

“…no,” I said, though I wasn’t quite as sure this time.

And then the Voice growled, “Let me touch you.”

OH FUCK…

When he spoke like that, it just did something to me.

It was like verbally being tied up…

And I loved being tied up.

“…fine,” I said nervously. “But… YELLOW.”

I could see him stifle a smile.

Then he went back to touching me.

His finger gently touched my asshole…

So soft…

Caressing me…

Circling me…

Fuck that felt good…

And then I felt him gently ease the tip inside me.

“Red!” I yelped.

Still not ready yet.

He immediately withdrew his fingertip from inside me –

But at the same time, his other hand gently stroked around my clit.

All that pleasure I’d lost when he’d pulled out of me a few minutes ago?

A hint of it came rushing back with just that one little caress.

“OH!” I moaned –

And then he stopped.

Mother FUCKER –

He was going to withhold orgasm from me until I let him have his way.

“No fair!” I scowled.

He grinned. “Whoever said I was going to be fair?”

Then he began to softly caress my asshole again…

As he simultaneously stroked my clit.

The combination of the two sensations – the forbidden and the pleasurable – was absolutely delicious.

And he kept doing it.

“Fuuuuck… oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I moaned.

“What color are you?” he asked.

I shot daggers at him. “Yellow.”

You fucker.

He knew exactly what he was doing…

And he was enjoying it.

And…

To be honest…

So was I.

A lot.

He grinned again, then slowly eased his fingertip inside my ass…

While he intensified the caresses around my clit.

“Oh God…” I moaned.

He kept easing his finger deeper and deeper inside me…

All while caressing my clit firmer, faster, harder.

Fuck, I was going to come –

And not how I wanted to, with his cock inside my pussy –

But his finger inside my ass.

At the moment, though, it felt like a pretty good alternative.

And just as I was about to climax –

The fucking asshole slipped out his finger and stopped stroking my clit.

BASTARD!

It was like he had some kind of psychic ability to know right when I was about to come, and he was using it to torture me.

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!” I yelled at him in frustration.

He just laughed. “I’m going to put my cock inside your ass. Condom or no condom?”

My pussy fluttered when he said it –

UNHHH –

But I wasn’t about to let him have the satisfaction.

Not after all the bullshit he’d pulled.

“Neither!” I snarled. “Red!”

He ignored me – or at least didn’t show any sort of reaction.

Instead, he picked up the dildo…

Put the tip right between the lips of my pussy…

And left it there.

I’d been aching to come –

And I was pretty sure that if he just slid it inside me, I’d climax right then and there –

But he didn’t go any further.

OH MY FUCKING GOD I’M GOING TO KILL HIM –

I wanted it inside me so bad that I would have done almost anything he wanted.

…almost.

“There was something we didn’t talk about on your BDSM checklist,” he said.

“Yeah, withholding of orgasm!” I said angrily.

“No. Double penetration.”

It took me a second to register what he meant.

What?

…ohhhhhhhhh…

Oh FUCK.

He was going to slide his cock inside my ass…

And the dildo inside my pussy.

That was something I’d never done before…

And I desperately wanted to try it.

Before I could say anything, he took the vibrator and placed it on my belly.

It wasn’t turned on yet, but the tip of it pointed right at my clit…

Which I assumed was the promise of a reward if I just gave in to him.

Oh my God…

If he does all three things at once, I’m going to come SO HARD…

“Condom or no condom?” he asked again.

Fuck him!

Fuck him for being an asshole –

Fuck him for taking me to the brink and leaving me hanging –

And yet, I could imagine what it would feel like to have him inside me along with the dildo – not to mention using the vibrator.

I nearly cried inside.

Fu-uh-uh-uh-uuuuuuuck…

I wasn’t about to give in all the way, though, so I just whispered, “I’ll leave it up to you.”

He smiled… then unrolled the condom from his cock…

And my mouth watered to see the pink skin and that big, swollen head.

Oh my god, this is going to be INSANE…

And it was.

It was beyond insane.

Feeling him inside me, skin on skin –

And the feeling of having two cocks inside me at the same time –

Plus the vibrations on my clit –

The sensations –

The pleasure –

Him repeatedly telling me to hold back from climaxing –

I nearly lost my fucking mind.

When he finally released me with the Voice –

(“Come for me!”)

I’d say it qualified as a religious experience.

Absolute heaven on earth…

And I didn’t even have to die to get there.

78

We were just about to take a shower when something I’d been waiting for finally happened:

Roberto got undressed.

Like earlier with his cock, I thought maybe he’d been hiding his body because he was embarrassed.

Maybe he was pudgy…

Although that didn’t seem likely, given his lean, sculpted face.

I didn’t have much to go on other than his face; the only other visible parts of his body were his hands. (Well, them and his gorgeous cock.)

Everything else he kept hidden under his perfectly tailored suit.

If he was a bit overweight, it wouldn’t have bothered me in the slightest.

However… just like with his cock…

Reality exceeded expectations.

By quite a bit.

When he pulled off his shirt, I just stared.

His body was lean and muscular – more wiry soldier than bodybuilder.

Large biceps… firm pecs…

And his six-pack abs were so pronounced that they cast shadows in the candlelight.

Despite my very recent mind-blowing orgasm, I started getting aroused all over again.

And then he turned around.

His shoulders were broad, and his back was powerful –

But the skin across his shoulder blades was streaked with dozens of crisscrossing scars.

Some were long tracks…

Others were small gouge marks.

They were old and healed over, but the sight was still alarming.

He hadn’t mentioned that he liked being beaten or whipped –

So where the fuck had they come from?

My mind immediately leapt to the worst possibility:

Child abuse.

“What’s on your back?” I asked as neutrally as I could.

“Scars,” he said, not looking at me as he pulled off his pants.

As I walked over to him, I took an appraising look at his lower half.

Powerful, muscular thighs…

Well-developed calves…

And a hell of an ass under his black boxers.

Stop, I reprimanded myself.

Focus.

I gently touched the scars.

“What are they from?”

“Women.”

Maybe he had lied about enjoying being whipped.

He wouldn’t be the first man I’d met who was ashamed of his desires.

“What the hell did they use on you?” I asked. The former dominatrix in me was curious. “It’s not bad enough to be from a cat o’ nine tails – ”

“Their fingernails,” he said as he pulled off his boxers.

Oh FUCK.

His ass was perfect… muscular and round…

And his cock, now soft, swayed long and thick from his soft thatch of dark hair.

FOCUS, MEI-LING.

“Is that some sort of a flex?” I asked, trying to tear my gaze away from his nether regions.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you trying to say you’re so amazing in bed that they couldn’t help themselves, and gouged wounds in your back during sex?”

“Would that surprise you?” he asked with a half-smile.

I didn’t want to give him a big head…

But I couldn’t lie, either.

“Given how you just made me feel for the last half hour… no, I guess not.”

He surprised me with a laugh and a kiss. “Actually, no, it’s not that. I asked them to do it.”

“You didn’t mention that you’re into pain.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why did you have them gouge their fingernails into your back?”

“Control.”

He spent the next few minutes explaining that he used pain as a way to have control over his body.

He claimed that he didn’t like pain; he just craved the control that it gave him.

I’d seen things like that in my time at De Sade.

Just not quite as… extreme as Roberto’s case.

I brushed it off and played the flirty coquette – because I liked him, and because I wanted him, and because I really wanted to fuck him again.

But in my head, a quiet little siren was going off:

Red flag, girl.

Roberto Rosolini is fucked UP.

On the other hand…

So was I.

Maybe we were a better match than I could have imagined.

We had sex in the shower, which was amazing.

Then we had sex again in bed, which was fucking fantastic.

When he asked me to dig my fingernails into his back, I complied – mostly because I wanted to come so badly, I would have done anything he asked.

But after he came – all over my belly and chest, which I liked – I suggested a second shower so I could clean off his cum.

“I agree,” he said. “I don’t want to get any blood on your sheets.”

When I saw what I’d done, I kind of freaked out.

I’d literally gouged his skin in half a dozen places, and blood was trickling down his back.

He laughed and reassured me that he’d wanted it.

I’d had plenty of clients whom I’d done worse to as a dominatrix –

But they liked the pain.

They got off on it.

Not Roberto.

He got off on control.

And that was the first inkling I had that Roberto wasn’t just fucked up…

But that he might be dangerous.

Lots of red flags…

But it didn’t keep me from wanting him.

In fact…

It made me want him more.

All the red flags, though, receded into the distance as we lay in bed together afterwards.

I asked him playfully if he’d learned everything he’d done to me from the sex worker he’d lost his virginity to.

While he said ‘yes,’ he implied that she’d taught him over a period of time.

When I pressed further, he said, “I paid Vittoria enough that she could stop working at the brothel. I was her sole client for a couple of years.”

Now I was intrigued.

“So you had a relationship with her?”

“More or less. I would call it an ‘arrangement.’”

“Did you love her?”

He didn’t answer, and I immediately regretted prying.

He might have felt shame over having a long-term relationship with a sex worker.

However, if he was ashamed about it, that would have bothered me immensely.

I’d been a sex worker when I was a dominatrix.

And I had many friends who were sex workers still.

Judgment from men about how they lived their lives –

How I had lived my life –

It reminded me of my father.

How he had slapped me, belittled me, and disowned me.

Let’s just say that judgement was a gigantic turn-off.

In fact, it would have been a deal-breaker…

And I really didn’t want things to end with Roberto. Not yet.

Besides, it was none of my business.

“I’m sorry, that was too personal – ”

“It’s fine,” he said. “No… I can’t say that I’ve ever been in love.”

Uh-oh.

Another red flag.

Mid-twenties and never been in love?

It was a lot more common – and not as serious – as having your back gouged during sex, but it was concerning nonetheless.

“Never?” I asked.

Roberto floored me with his answer.

“No. But… I cared for Vittoria. And she cared for me. That was enough. She was the only woman I slept with the entire time we were together. And I’m fairly sure she was faithful to me.”

The tenderness with which he spoke about her…

His obvious respect and warmth for her…

It surprised me.

It also made me ashamed that I had doubted him.

And…

To be honest…

I felt a little jealous.

Which was utterly fucking ridiculous.

Roberto had even said our first night together, If you told me about the first guy who got to sleep with you, I think I might go mad with jealousy.

I had made fun of him for it –

And yet here I was, getting gnawed at by the green-eyed monster.

That twinge of jealousy also made me insanely curious.

“What happened?” I prodded. “Did you break up?”

“Unfortunately, no. She’d had a traumatic life before we met and was an addict. Opioid pills – oxycontin, mostly. I paid for her to go to rehab, and she stayed clean for a year, but she relapsed. She didn’t tell me when she started using again. Maybe she was ashamed. Maybe she didn’t want me to stop her… I don’t know.” He tried to smile, but his pain won out instead. “Sometimes people’s demons get the best of them.”

He told me how she had overdosed and died…

And even though it was years ago, and he said he hadn’t loved her, I could hear the grief in his voice.

As he spoke, I heard the deep humanity and empathy in his voice…

And something in my heart broke for him.

The wall I’d been building for years – the wall I used to keep out other people, to keep them from hurting me –

It suddenly toppled down.

In that moment, I felt utterly exposed and vulnerable…

And I wanted him more than anything.

We kissed…

And we made love.

Not just sex – not just fucking –

But making love.

The sex before that had been amazing…

But this was different.

Roberto touched a place deep in my soul I had never let anyone else near.

As he looked into my eyes, and I cried out for him to come inside me, I felt something I’d never experienced before:

The overwhelming desire to never let him go.

As I drifted off to sleep in his arms, part of me wondered if I’d made a terrible mistake letting someone in past my walls.

But the rest of me didn’t care.

I just wanted him…

And I didn’t care what the price was.

I found out too late that I should have cared about the price…

Because when it came time to pay, it nearly destroyed me.

79

Over the next several days, I fell even harder for him.

Not only was Roberto incredibly handsome…

Not only could he fuck like a god…

But he had a real warmth and kindness to him.

Warmth and kindness had been in short supply from most of the men in my past.

And yet, despite Roberto’s carefully controlled exterior, there was an undercurrent of danger to him.

I couldn’t put my finger on it…

And it didn’t come out often…

But it was always there, lurking in the shadows.

The most obvious times were when he used the Voice.

That dominant, dark, commanding tone…

It both thrilled me and frightened me a little.

But there was a part of me that liked being scared.

There was a part of me that liked being helpless…

A part of me that liked being totally and completely at his mercy.

It was almost exactly the feeling I got when I was tied up…

That sensual, sexual feeling of surrender.

I could only have it with someone I trusted…

And yet…

Despite trusting Roberto, I was a little afraid of him, too.

A little worried he was unpredictable…

A little nervous that he would do something out of the blue.

And yet… I felt completely safe, as well.

I don’t know how to explain it.

It was a contradiction in terms – a delicious tension that kept me guessing.

Unpredictability and stability…

Danger and safety…

Surrender and control…

It all combined into one overwhelming urge to have him fuck my brains out, even if it frightened me a little.

Both things – him fucking my brains out, and me being frightened a little – happened regularly.

During a date I took him on to the top of Victoria’s Peak…

On various outings around the city…

Every night in my bedroom…

And, most dramatically, at the opera.

One evening, I took Roberto to Xiqu Centre – one of the city’s most distinctive buildings, with an exterior of curved steel rods forming a flowing metal curtain.

It was also the home of Opera Hong Kong. The company put on many Western works but specialized in traditional Chinese opera. Though he wouldn’t be able to understand a word, I thought Roberto might find the ornate costumes beautiful and intriguing.

I drove us there in the Bentley at seven in the evening. I was wearing a sexy black Cheongsam with my hair pinned up; he was wearing one of his suits, as always.

Just before we reached the valet, though, he pointed to the side of the road. “Pull over for a second.”

“Why? We’re almost – ”

“Pull over,” the Voice commanded.

I hadn’t been expecting that…

But I immediately pulled over to the curb.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Take off your panties.”

I stared at him. “…what?”

“Take off your panties.”

“I’m not going to – ”

“Take off your panties.”

A shiver went up and down my spine…

And I felt myself getting turned on.

I dutifully did as he said.

The slit in my dress made access easy enough, though I had to brace my feet on the floor and lift my ass off the seat to do it.

Once I’d gotten them off, I dangled my panties from one finger. “Well?”

He took them with a slight smile and a glint in his eye…

And stuffed them in his jacket like a pocket square.

The black lace poked just above the edge of his pocket.

I stared at him in disbelief. “Are you seriously going to take them in there like that?”

“Yes, I am.”

I had to admit, I was a little turned on – but I just shook my head and drove to the valet stand where we dropped off the Bentley.

As he walked around the car to take my arm, Roberto touched his fingers to his new lace pocket square.

I got even more turned knowing what he was doing…

And that no one else around us even suspected.

Then, when the lights in the theater went down, he pulled out my panties and began rubbing them between his fingers.

It would have scandalized everyone around us if they knew what he was doing –

And I loved it.

As colorful characters in medieval robes and white theatrical makeup paraded across the stage, Roberto touched my bare leg through the slit in my dress and gently caressed the inside of my thigh.

I was afraid he would go further –

And yet, I desperately wanted him to.

He kept teasing me…

Softly brushing his fingers against my skin…

But he wouldn’t do anything more.

By the time intermission rolled around, I was dripping wet.

As soon as the lights came up, he withdrew his hand.

I whispered, “What the hell are you – ”

“Time for champagne,” he announced blithely as he pulled me up by the hand.

I felt horribly self-conscious as we walked out amidst a thousand other men and women in tuxedos and beautiful dresses.

I was fairly sure I was the only one who could feel my own wetness between my thighs with every step.

We went into the lobby, with its blinding white main floor and shadowy mezzanine beneath an ornate ceiling.

Roberto bought two glasses of champagne from the bar. We retired to a spot far from the other theatergoers, who stood around chatting about real estate and their children’s private schools.

“What was that all about?” I asked accusingly.

“What?” he asked with faux innocence.

“You know very well what I’m talking about.”

“Just having a little fun,” he said with a devilish smile.

“Well, we’re not doing anything here.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

Oh shit.

I quickly realized my mistake.

Telling him no was the quickest way to make him want to do it.

I tried to recover. “I’m just not comfortable with that.”

“With what?”

“…sex in public places,” I whispered, unsure how else to categorize it.

“I’m sure I can make you comfortable with it.”

“Ha – no,” I said humorlessly.

“In fact, I think I could have you begging me to take you.”

“Begging,” I repeated in amused disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Is that a fact.”

“It is.”

His self-assuredness was hilarious.

Taking him down a peg or two or would be fun.

“Okay,” I said with a smirk. “Take your best shot, Casanova.”

Roberto smiled like Challenge accepted…

Leaned over…

Brushed his lips against my ear…

And whispered in the Voice, “Come for me.”

I do not know what the fuck happened –

Or how he did it –

But I suddenly came.

A literal fucking orgasm, right there in the Hong Kong Opera building –

And he hadn’t even touched me.

It wasn’t an overwhelming, mind-blowing climax like what I was used to when we had sex –

But it was definitely an orgasm.

Pleasure fluttered in my pussy, more powerful than most men had been able to give me with their dicks or tongues.

I was not ready for it.

“Oh FUCK,” I gasped as I doubled over, spilling half the champagne out of my glass.

Roberto grabbed my arm like he was trying to steady me –

But he growled in my year again, “COME for me.”

Another spasm of pleasure radiated out from between my thighs.

“Oh God!” I cried aloud, barely aware of the disapproving looks from some grey-haired operagoers 20 feet away.

I could not believe what was going on.

This motherfucker’s making me come just by TALKING to me!

He put his lips to my ear again –

“Okay, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop,” I begged. “PLEASE stop.”

He stood there grinning triumphantly.

“How the fuck did you do that?!” I whispered in disbelief.

“Pavlovian response. You know the story of Pavlov’s dogs?”

I did.

A Russian doctor in the 1800s rang a bell whenever he fed his dogs.

Eventually, he could make the dogs salivate just by ringing the bell because they associated the sound with food.

I frowned. “Yes, but how did you – ”

And then I realized exactly how he’d done it.

Every time we’d fucked, he’d made me hold back my orgasm until he spoke the command with the Voice:

Come for me.

We hadn’t done it the times we’d made love…

But every other time – every time he’d teased me and tortured me and fucked my brains out – he’d growled in the Voice, Come for me…

And I had.

Every single time.

My body had learned to associate having an orgasm with him ordering me to come…

Especially in that tone of voice.

It terrified me that he had that level of control over me – that he could make me do something involuntarily I couldn’t even do to myself –

And yet, it also turned me on in a way I couldn’t even begin to explain.

It was surrender…

Total and complete…

To the sound of his voice.

He leaned over again –

“No, please, no, not here,” I whimpered.

This time, he didn’t use the Voice…

But he whispered in my ear, “I want to fuck you.”

I closed my eyes and shivered.

I wanted to fuck him…

But not here.

“We have to go somewhere else,” I whispered.

“Alright,” he purred.

He took my hand and guided me to a set of stairs that led up to the mezzanine.

As we walked, every step turned me on even more.

The orgasms I’d experienced had been fleeting and minor compared to what I was used to –

And I wanted more.

It was like tasting a drop of juice from the most delicious strawberry imaginable…

And then having it pulled away before you could take a bite.

I wanted the whole goddamn thing in my mouth.

I wanted him to make me lose my mind.

It was then that I realized he’d been right:

Roberto had made me want to fuck him in public.

Or… relatively in public, anyway.

We found a curving hallway that was out of sight of anyone walking by on the mezzanine. A brushed-metal hand railing stretched the length of the corridor, and a locked door at the end suggested it led to some sort of employees’ area.

The hallway was dark and shadowy with recessed lighting…

Perfect for doing what we shouldn’t do…

But that I wanted to do so badly.

We could hear the noises of people down below in the lobby –

And then a chime sounded, indicating that intermission was over.

We heard the murmur of voices as people began to leave the lobby to retake their seats.

I turned to Roberto…

He smiled at me…

And we began to kiss passionately.

I fumbled with his fly –

And within seconds, his erect cock was jutting out of his pants.

“Take me in your mouth,” he growled.

I immediately bent over and enveloped him.

He was thick…

His skin was scorching hot on my lips…

And I could taste his salty precum on my tongue.

I fondled his balls as I slowly moved my head up and down, relishing the sensual feel of his satin-soft skin over his rock-hard shaft…

But he didn’t let me keep sucking him for long.

He grabbed my shoulders and forced me back up to standing.

My lips left his cock with a soft, wet pop.

“Hold out your hands like you’re praying,” he ordered.

Confused, I did as he said.

Then he took my lace panties out of his jacket pocket –

And wrapped them around my wrists, using the elastic to bind me tightly.

OH GOD.

I’d been turned on before he did that…

But it was nothing like the excitement I felt now.

He spun me roughly around –

Bent me over so I had to grab the metal hand railing along the wall –

And gently pulled aside my dress so that my bare ass was exposed.

Then he slid inside me.

My pussy was soaked – and his cock was already wet from my mouth – so he filled me up with one long, continuous stroke.

I stifled a groan and grabbed onto the metal railing for dear life.

He moved slowly at first, just sliding in and out…

But he began to speed up…

Until every thrust slammed deep inside me…

And his pants smacked my bare ass, the fabric muffling the sound.

He was so deep…

And so thick…

And he was fucking me so hard…

I tried to keep from making any sounds, but moans kept escaping my lips.

I’d never fantasized about anything like this before –

But the combination of my hands being bound…

And the danger of being caught…

And the sheer pleasure as he fucked me…

It was hotter than I could have ever imagined.

I kept climbing higher and higher, but I stopped myself from climaxing – partly out of habit, but also because I didn’t want anyone to hear me.

Roberto didn’t share the same inhibitions.

“We’re going to have to make this quick,” he growled. “Are you ready?”

My eyes widened as I realized what he intended.

“No – wait – ”

“COME for me.”

The growl of the Voice filled my ears –

And I had no choice but to come.

I gritted my teeth and clamped my jaws tight, but I only halfway stifled the scream of ecstasy that rose up from deep inside me.

My entire body trembled and my legs shook as wave after orgasmic wave rocked me to the core.

Then I felt Roberto come –

His cock exploding and shooting his hot cum inside me –

And I came even harder.

When I finally stopped 30 seconds later, I could barely stand, my legs were shaking so much.

I felt him slide out of me, and my dress slid back into place against my bare ass.

There were a few seconds during which I figured he was wrangling his stiff cock back inside his pants.

I heard the zzzzzip of his fly –

And then his hands were untying my thong from around my wrists.

He helped me stand up, and his strong arm supported me.

He slipped my underwear back into his jacket pocket –

Winked at me mischievously –

And helped me walk shakily down the hallway.

A burst of terror hit me as a young woman in an usher’s uniform saw us on the mezzanine.

“Are you alright?!” she asked in English.

“Just a little too much to drink,” Roberto said breezily as he helped me towards the stairs.

I smiled at her apologetically and leaned even more heavily on Roberto’s arm as we descended the stairs to the lobby.

“I don’t really feel like any more opera – do you?” he asked.

I could feel his cum slowly dribbling down the inside of my thigh…

And all I wanted was for him to fill me up with more.

“No,” I said. “I want you to take me home and fuck my brains out.”

He grinned. “That I will happily do.”

He got the keys from the valet…

Helped me into the passenger seat…

And then drove us home to the Summit.

And then, as promised, he fucked my brains out –

Several times.

80

Things were going absolutely amazing between us.

We got along incredibly well…

Our conversations were fascinating, hilarious, and emotionally deep…

And the sex was scorching hot.

The lovemaking was even better.

I was convinced I’d found the perfect man…

And that this was the perfect relationship.

Until I learned the truth, that is.

That’s when it all fell apart.

I returned one afternoon from running errands to find him pacing in my living room.

Roberto was never chill, exactly, but he seemed unusually tense.

“Miss me?” I asked after we kissed.

“Of course. Everything okay at De Sade?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. Are you alright? You seem a little on edge.”

He hesitated.

“I have something I need to ask you.”

“Uh-oh,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “This sounds serious.”

“Actually, it is serious. Do you mind if we sit?”

Fuck.

My mind raced through the possibilities:

Was he leaving town?

Did he have a sexually transmitted infection?

Was he married?

If he was married, I was going to fucking kill him.

“Um… alright…” I said, steeling myself for the worst.

“I need to ask you something,” he began somberly. “You’re under no obligation to tell me, and if you don’t want to discuss it, I’ll understand – but I need to buy something, and you’re the only person I know in Hong Kong who might be able to help me get it.”

BUY something?

That’s IT?!

He needs me to help him BUY something?!

Okay – how bad could this be?

Does he need some Viagra?

No, THAT can’t be it…

Does he want a butt plug, and he’s too shy to ask?

Marijuana, maybe?

“What do you need?” I asked.

“The first thing I need is a gun.”

…oh.

…fuck.

Wait –

Why the fuck does he need a GUN?

That chain of thoughts occurred in about 0.2 seconds.

“What?” I asked, stunned. “Why?”

“I have reason to believe I might not be safe here, and I need to make sure I can protect myself.”

My panic rose a few notches. “Why aren’t you safe?!”

“The man I’m doing business with has a lot of my family’s money tied up in an investment. I need it back, and I’ve asked for it repeatedly, but he keeps stalling me. I’m worried it’s because he’s working with an enemy of me and my brothers.”

My stomach suddenly turned.

I knew he was doing business with Lau. The old man had specifically said Roberto was one of his primary investors.

But I’d more or less blocked all that out of my mind.

I was very good at compartmentalization. I’d been doing it ever since I found out my father was a gangster.

Over the last ten days, I’d put my happiness with Roberto in one compartment…

And the knowledge that he was doing business with Lau in another.

I never allowed the two to coexist in my thoughts simultaneously.

Now that was no longer an option.

My two worlds had collided.

But I still wanted confirmation…

Just in case I was wrong.

Please, God, let me be wrong…

“Who are you doing business with?” I asked.

“You know Mr. Han? The man who was with me both nights I came to De Sade?”

SHIT.

“…I know him well.”

“It’s his boss – a man named Lau.”

I wanted to throw up.

Not just because I detested Lau…

Not just because I knew he corrupted everything he touched…

But because I’d been lying to Roberto by omission.

I’d never told him about my business relationship with Lau…

Or that Lau had ordered me to see Roberto.

But I’d wanted to see him. After that first dinner, anyway.

And because I’d wanted it, I’d been able to keep a wall in my head between Lau’s orders and the man I was falling for.

Not anymore, though.

“And you think Lau is working with an enemy of yours?” I asked, hating myself for playing the innocent little girl who didn’t know what was going on.

“Yes.”

“Who? Somebody else in finance?”

Roberto looked grim. “Not exactly.”

“Why would you need a gun?”

“Because I’m afraid my enemy might try to kill me.”

“Who?!”

“My uncle.”

Okay, I’ll admit…

That one floored me.

“Your UNCLE wants to KILL you?!”

“I’ll explain in a minute, I promise – but first I need to know if you have contacts on the black market.”

That’s when shit got real.

He wasn’t just talking about getting a gun…

He had a plan.

He’d thought it all out.

“You mean the kind of place where you could buy a gun?”

“Exactly.”

“Why would you think I know anybody like that?” I asked carefully, trying not to implicate myself as being the kind of person who knew exactly where to buy a gun.

“I figure that De Sade operates in the grey area of what’s legal in Hong Kong… and that, as a result, you might know other people who do business in the same grey area.”

I hated myself for the charade I was playing –

And that self-hatred came out as bitchiness.

“Buying a gun on the black market isn’t a grey area – it’s illegal,” I said sharply.

“Yes, I realize that – ”

“You could get 14 years in prison if the police found it on you.”

“I understand that, too. I wouldn’t be asking you if I didn’t think I was in serious danger.”

I believed him.

I wasn’t sure which scared me worse:

That somebody was trying to hurt him…

Or that I was seriously considering helping him buy a gun.

But first, I had questions.

“I want to know why your uncle is trying to kill you.”

He sighed. “I never told you exactly what business my family is in.”

My stomach plummeted.

Nothing good could follow I never told you exactly what business my family is in.

“Have you heard of the Cosa Nostra?” he asked.

Fuck.

No… please God, no…

“The Italian mafia?” I asked shakily.

“Yes. My family is part of the Cosa Nostra. We control the city of Florence and part of the area around it.”

Ten years of trauma suddenly reared its ugly head.

I was 16 again and back in the warehouse after I was kidnapped –

Staring at the bloody corpse of the first man I’d fallen in love with.

I was being marched out of my job at the bank by two thugs –

My father was screaming at me –

And then he slapped me in the face.

I was staring down at Kam’s bloody corpse as the Russian crouched in the corner.

Lau

my father

slapped me –

And I was scrubbing Kam’s blood off the floor as I wept.

My father –

Lau –

Triad gangsters –

I’d only ever wanted to get away from it all, to live on my own terms –

And instead, I’d fallen for a fucking Italian mobster.

“GET OUT!” I shrieked as I stumbled away from him.

He looked legitimately bewildered. “Mei-ling – ”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!”

“Mei-ling, we’re businessmen – we’re not murderers, or – ”

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU ARE! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY APARTMENT RIGHT NOW!”

“But – ”

“NOW, GODDAMMIT, OR I’M CALLING THE COPS!”

He stood there looking stunned. “Mei-ling, please – ”

He wouldn’t leave.

So I did the only thing I could think of:

I ran for my purse and pulled out my gun.

I’d bought it after the incident with the Russian.

I swore to myself that if anyone else tried to kill another Kam – another innocent girl in my employ – that I would shoot him in the fucking head myself, God damn the consequences.

In the months since I’d bought it, it had been a comfort to know I had at least one tiny piece of power at my disposal –

And that if my father or Lau or anyone else ever really tried to fuck with me, I could end them.

But I never, ever thought I would point it at someone I cared about.

Roberto lunged for me – “Wait!” –

Until he saw what I had in my hand.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment, Roberto,” I hissed.

He stood there, his eyes wide –

And then his shock gave way to anger.

“Why would I ever think you had any contacts on the black market?” he asked, his voice sarcastic and hateful.

“Get OUT.”

“You know,” he sneered, “you could get 14 years in prison if the police found that on you.”

“GET OUT!”

I couldn’t seem to get him to leave by merely pointing the gun at him, so I cocked the hammer.

That seemed to do the trick.

“Alright – I’m going. At least let me get my things.”

“Hurry.”

He walked out of the room.

I half expected him to pull some sort of mafia magic trick and come back in the room with an Uzi –

But he only had his jacket and tie.

I kept the gun pointed at him the entire time.

“Mei-ling, we need to talk.”

He seemed to have calmed down in the 30 seconds he’d been out of the room.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t.

“We’re never talking again. Now GET THE FUCK OUT.”

His bewilderment and anger returned as he stomped out the door.

I slammed it behind him, rammed the deadbolt into place –

And sank down on the floor as I sobbed my fucking eyes out.

81

Iwas heartbroken.

I could not believe I’d fallen for a man in the same line of work as my father and Lau –

The two men who had fucking ruined my life.

Roberto had a darkness to him, yes – the dominance he displayed in the bedroom that turned me on so much –

But he was also kind.

He was good.

Or he’d seemed good, anyway, until I found out the fucking truth.

After he left and I’d sobbed nonstop for an hour, I stood in front of the mirror and stared at myself.

Except for my swollen red eyes, I looked the same on the outside…

But inside, it felt like my heart and soul had been shattered.

I was in so much pain…

Pain I hadn’t felt in years, and which I’d sworn I would never feel again.

So much for that promise.

That night, I drank myself into a stupor with two bottles of white wine.

I woke up the next morning with a horrific hangover.

I wanted to lie there in bed, binge Netflix, and try not to think about him…

But I had a business to run.

I’d basically ignored De Sade while Roberto was in my life…

But now that he was gone, it was time to go back to work.

I forced myself to get up, shower, and make some coffee.

As I stood there waiting for it to brew, I tried not to look at the kitchen island where I’d been with Roberto so many times…

Like the time we’d discussed what we would and wouldn’t do in bed…

Right before I’d had the best sex of my life with him.

The best sex of my life –

That is, until the next night, when it had gotten even better.

And better and better every single time.

My heartbreak made me want to drink myself into oblivion again…

But the show must go on.

I took a few swigs of coffee and forced myself to put my emotional armor on…

And go back out into the world.

I noticed the car as soon as I pulled out of the Summit’s underground parking.

Even after all this time – and even with Lau’s protection – I was consistently on high alert for signs of my father’s thugs. I always looked at new people suspiciously, and I constantly scanned my surroundings for anything out of place.

The blue Camry was definitely out of place.

The cars around my building tended to be BMWs, Mercedes, Bentleys, Jaguars, Rolls Royces, Ferraris, Lamborghinis –

Not Toyotas.

Nothing against Camrys, but they stuck out like a sore thumb in my neighborhood.

As I drove past, I checked out the driver: an Asian male wearing normal street clothes. He didn’t look at all like one of my father’s goons.

The person in the backseat was harder to see, but I caught a glimpse of a hoodie.

Okay, definitely not Roberto.

I figured I was being paranoid. Maybe the car was there for a DoorDash delivery.

Then the Camry started following me –

And kept following me all the way into the city.

I had no idea who it was, but at least I knew I wasn’t being paranoid.

Maybe it was a street thug who’d found out about the daily payments I took to Lau’s office.

Maybe the asshole was ‘casing the joint’ before he tried to rob me at gunpoint.

I couldn’t take that chance, so I immediately went to De Sade’s security department when I got into the building.

I walked into a darkened room where dozens of monitors showed camera feeds from both inside and outside the club.

“Somebody followed me here in a blue Toyota Camry,” I told the tech on duty. “See if he’s still hanging around.”

It took a few minutes of searching, but my guy eventually found the car parked in the alley across from the club.

“Can you zoom in on the car?” I asked.

He complied, but the reflection on the windshield made it impossible to see the people inside.

I knew I couldn’t deliver De Sade’s payment to Lau if a robber was lying in wait.

I was contemplating sending some of my security team out to ‘talk’ to the car’s occupants when the Camry pulled forward, out of frame.

“Zoom out!” I ordered.

The tech zoomed all the way out. As the car turned onto the street, the shadows of the surrounding buildings cut out all glare for a second, giving us a perfect side view before the Camry drove away.

“You recorded that, right?” I asked excitedly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Rewind it and zoom in on the person in the backseat.”

My tech guy did as he was told.

A few seconds later, I was staring in disbelief at a grainy image of a Caucasian male in a hoodie and sunglasses.

I would have known the shape of his nose and the perfect curve of his cheekbones anywhere.

Roberto.

“Mother FUCKER!” I swore out loud.

82

It seemed I had lost a lover…

And picked up a stalker instead.

The blue Camry started popping up everywhere.

It was there in the early morning hours when I left work for home…

And it was there every afternoon when I drove from the Summit to De Sade.

The only time I didn’t see it was when I delivered money to Lau’s office.

Every time I saw it, my heart broke a little –

But I also got furious.

Stupid fucking mafia asshole is STALKING me?!

God DAMN him!

I wasn’t ever afraid, exactly.

I didn’t think Roberto would hurt me…

But his behavior troubled me.

And…

If I’m being honest…

It turned me on the tiniest bit, too.

Finding out someone you still loved was obsessed with you?

It would have been flattering –

If I wasn’t so pissed off at him for being in the mafia and lying to me by omission.

(Except YOU lied to him by omission, too, didn’t you? About your connection to Lau – )

(SHUT THE FUCK UP)

Part of me, though, was worried.

What would happen if push came to shove?

Was Roberto so obsessed that he wouldn’t let me go?

I hoped I wouldn’t have to find that out.

I prayed he would lose interest –

But every time I looked in my rearview mirror, I would see that damn Toyota.

Then – on the fifth night of stalking me – Roberto got bolder.

I had a standing order for my security team to let me know when the Camry showed up each night, and if anything out of the ordinary happened.

Something out of the ordinary happened.

My head of security called me to the surveillance room. Once I walked in, I immediately saw why.

On the exterior camera feeds, Roberto was walking around the building, apparently looking for a back way in.

My stomach did a flip-flop.

Not only was he not losing interest in me, his obsession seemed to be increasing.

My head of security looked troubled. “You want me to take care of this?”

I knew exactly what he meant by ‘take care of this.’

“No,” I said. “Don’t do anything yet. Just let me know if it escalates.”

As I left the office, I realized the situation had become a problem and that I should probably tell Lau.

But the old man beat me to the punch.

When I came in the next afternoon to drop off the money, Gongsun leered at me like usual – then casually mentioned, “Mr. Lau wants to see you.”

I left Accounting and went to Lau’s office with a queasy stomach.

When I walked into his office, he was reading his computer printouts. He heard my footsteps, glanced up at me, and gave me that fake grandfatherly smile.

“Ah, Ms. Chan. So good to see you. Please take a seat.”

I sat down and waited for Lau to circle around the desk and perch above me like a fuckin buzzard –

But he didn’t.

Instead, he stayed seated with his hands casually folded on his desk.

“I understand you and Mr. Rosolini had a falling out,” he said sympathetically.

My stomach went from queasy to the verge of vomiting.

I knew exactly what was going to come next:

Lau would order me to start seeing Roberto again.

To start fucking him again.

What I wanted wouldn’t matter one bit.

“Yes,” I said in a tremulous voice, “but – ”

Lau held up one hand to stop me. I immediately went silent.

“I understand he’s following you,” Lau continued.

I frowned.

How the fuck did he know THAT?!

“Yes, but – ”

“Do you feel like you’re in any danger?” Lau interrupted.

“…no… not really, no.”

“Good. Then allow him to keep following you.”

I stared at Lau in shock. “Why?”

“To keep him distracted for as long as possible.”

Shit…

So Roberto had been right about Lau stalling him…

Which meant he might be right about Lau working with his murderous uncle.

When I didn’t say anything, Lau smiled. “That is all.”

Then he went back to perusing his readouts.

Realizing I had been dismissed, I walked out of his office without a word…

But my thoughts were flying around at a million miles an hour.

I have to warn Roberto.

He needs to leave Hong Kong as soon as possible.

I was angry with him for not telling me about the mafia…

But I still cared for him.

A little too much, probably.

And I knew that whatever Lau had planned, it wasn’t good.

The only problem was that I couldn’t tell Roberto I worked for Lau. The revelation might send Roberto into a fit of rage, and God only knew what he might do in response.

But I had to get him to leave the city as soon as possible…

So I came up with a plan to frighten him off.

There was only one flaw:

I didn’t account for him not getting scared.

83

It rained that night. Rain-slicked streets reflected the neon signs up and down the boulevard.

I’d told the security team to let me know when the blue Camry showed up.

I got a call on the walkie-talkie around 2:15 AM. “He’s here.”

I considered very seriously what I was about to do…

And decided it was the best way.

The only way.

My stomach churned as I went to my office and got my purse.

The pistol was inside.

Time to end this.

I put on my trench coat and walked out to the elevators. As I rode down to the lobby, I radioed my head of security. “I’m going out to confront him.”

I could hear the alarm in his voice as he said, “That is NOT a good idea. Let me send some guys with you – ”

“No. He’s harmless.”

“Then why have we been monitoring him every night?”

“Because he’s a nuisance. I do not want you or any of the other security team to interfere – do you understand?”

“Ma’am – ”

“That is a direct order. No matter what you see on the camera feeds, you are not to intervene. I have something planned, and I have it under control. Do you understand?”

“…alright.”

“Thank you.”

I immediately turned off the walkie-talkie.

I exited the elevator in the building lobby. Rather than go out the front door, I took a side exit. Then I crossed the empty street, reached into my purse, and pulled out my gun.

My heart was beating so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest.

It very nearly did when I reached the alley.

I could hear Roberto – or someone – walking towards the street.

I raised my gun and spun around the corner –

It was him.

He wore his normal three-piece suit instead of that ridiculous hoodie.

I felt a jolt of pleasure in seeing him –

Something I definitely hadn’t anticipated.

Something else I didn’t anticipate:

He completely ignored the gun.

Instead, he stared at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He said something in Italian. I didn’t know what it was, but I could hear the tenderness in his voice –

And I could see the overjoyed smile on his face.

I frowned in confusion.

This was NOT the way I’d thought it would go.

“What are you doing here?” I snapped.

He glanced down at my gun in amusement like it was a toy. “Should you really be showing that in public?”

No, I really shouldn’t, but –

“There’s no one around,” I snapped.

“Will that stop a police car from driving by?” he asked with a slight smile. He pointed at the Camry about 20 feet behind him. “Let’s get in my Uber and talk. It’s dry, and we can – ”

“Are you fucking insane?” I asked, flabbergasted at how nonchalant he was being. “I’m not getting in there with you!”

“If you don’t want to talk in the car, let’s at least step away from the main road so you don’t get arrested.”

Okay…

He did have a point.

But I wasn’t about to go back there where his fucking car could run me over.

“Send the Uber away first,” I demanded.

“Alright,” he agreed sunnily.

It was the weirdest fucking conversation I could have possibly imagined.

Maybe he really was insane.

As we walked towards the Camry, Roberto said humorously, “You might want to hide the gun.”

I shoved the gun inside my trench coat pocket but still kept the barrel aimed at him. “Don’t try anything – I’m still pointing it at you.”

“I gathered,” he replied.

When we reached the car, Roberto gave the driver a bunch of money. After I translated a few things between them, the driver left, leaving us alone in the alleyway.

We stared at each other – me angry, and Roberto looking like he’d never been happier.

“Why are you following me?” I demanded.

That was when my entire world got turned upside down.

“Because I’m in love with you,” he said.

His voice was full of conviction. He meant it.

He also sounded kind – not dangerous or unhinged –

And utterly, overwhelmingly sexy.

He moved closer as he said, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone else. Never. I think about you every moment I’m awake; I dream about you when I sleep. I need you more than the air I breathe. You’re more precious to me than my own life.”

My heart was pounding in my chest –

But it wasn’t from fear.

Well… not the fear of him physically hurting me.

However, I was absolutely terrified he would break my heart again.

And yet…

If I could have him back…

I was almost ready to take that risk.

…almost.

“Stop,” I whispered, pleading.

He didn’t stop.

In fact, he got so close he could have kissed me.

“If you’re going to kill me, then go ahead and do it,” he murmured. “You’d be doing me a favor by putting me out of my misery – because I can’t live without you. I won’t.”

I stared at him.

I could feel my lips quivering.

I wanted him so badly –

And then an unfamiliar voice spoke Cantonese behind me.

“Hey – what’s going on back there?” a man asked in a leering tone.

I whipped around to see three men standing at the head of the alley.

They were all scruffy and dressed shabbily. If I had to guess, I would have said they were junkies or petty thieves – maybe both.

At 2:30 in the morning in this part of town, there were only a few types of people out and about, and these guys weren’t club-goers or customers of De Sade.

As soon as the leader of the pack saw me, he laughed and started approaching.

I knew that look.

I’d seen it in the eyes of dozens of men in De Sade –

And I’d had them all thrown out on their asses.

“Get the fuck out of here!” I yelled at him angrily.

That didn’t deter him at all.

In fact, it only escalated the situation.

He pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and opened it with a click.

At first I thought, My guys are watching this – they’ll be here any second –

But then I remembered the last order I’d given my head of security:

No matter what you see on the camera feeds, you are NOT to intervene.

I have something planned, and I have it under control.

They probably thought this was what I had planned – a little outside muscle to intimidate Roberto.

FUCK.

On the other hand, he only had a knife…

And I had a gun.

Fuck YOU, asshole, I thought angrily as I pulled out my pistol and pointed it at him.

But even though the three punks recoiled –

Even though I had the upper hand by far –

I started to shake.

I’d never personally thrown anyone out of my club before. Big, beefy guys had always done it for me.

I’d bought the gun for protection, but I’d never actually considered what it would mean to fire it.

Yes, I had pointed the pistol at Roberto twice – both in my apartment and here in the alleyway – but I knew, deep down in my heart of hearts, that I never would have pulled the trigger.

Except now…

I might have to.

And it fucking terrified me.

My mind tried to stay calm –

But my body betrayed me.

My entire arm began to shake.

I could see the main asshole’s expression turn from fear to amusement.

He thought I wouldn’t shoot him.

He might be right…

But I couldn’t let him know that.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” I shouted, but I sounded more afraid than threatening.

The asshole just smirked and started walking towards me –

And that’s when Roberto reached over and gently took the gun from my hand.

After a split second of indecision, I let him.

I hated that I wasn’t taking care of this myself –

But part of me was relieved beyond words that he was stepping in to protect me.

Another part of me worried he couldn’t handle it.

He was, after all, a glorified accountant.

Yeah, a mafia accountant… but an accountant nonetheless.

I shouldn’t have worried.

Roberto pointed the gun calmly at the lead asshole, who froze in his tracks. “Balls or head.”

I had not expected those words. I was a little unsure I’d heard him correctly.

“What?”

“Ask him if he wants it in the balls or the head,” Roberto said simply.

I stared at him in shock –

Until he used the Voice.

“ASK him.”

A thrill went up and down my back, and I turned to the thug.

“He told me to ask you, ‘Do you want it in your testicles or your head?’”

The guy looked shocked –

And then he laughed.

He ignored me completely and started shouting at Roberto in Cantonese.

“Fuckin’ pussy – go ahead and try it, you stupid motherfucker!”

Both the street thug and I were shocked beyond words when Roberto calmly pointed the gun between the thug’s feet and pulled the trigger.

BLAM!

I screamed in terror as the gunshot echoed all around us –

But the three thugs screamed even louder.

“What are you doing?!” I yelled at him.

Roberto ignored me and just pointed the gun back at the leader, who looked like he’d shat himself in fear.

“Balls or head?” Roberto asked calmly…

And then lowered the gun so it pointed at the thug’s pants.

The two men in the back ran for it –

And the leader quickly followed them.

Then Roberto turned to me…

And my shock became terror.

I had let a mafioso take away the only piece of power I had –

And now I was utterly helpless.

He must have read my mind because he glanced down at the gun in his hand –

And then he did something I never would have expected:

He offered it back to me.

His hand gripped the barrel so there was no danger to me and held it out.

“If you’re going to kill me,” he said, “get it over with quick.”

I glanced down at the gun, then back at his face.

I was frozen – confused – overwhelmed –

And for reasons I couldn’t quite put into words, incredibly turned on.

Roberto smiled…

Pocketed the gun…

And reached out and kissed me.

I froze for a second as voices screamed in my head.

He’s a gangster!

He’s in the mafia!

He’s everything you said you hated!

But my heart knew the truth:

Roberto – the man he truly was – was everything I wanted.

I gave in and kissed him back.

His warm lips on mine…

His strong arms around me…

They shattered my last bit of resistance.

The dam I’d built around my broken heart burst open, and relief flooded my entire body.

I gave in to him totally and completely…

Until another little voice yelled inside my head.

He just fired a GUN!

I broke off our kiss and said, “We have to get you out of here – someone must have heard the gunshot and called the cops.”

Roberto just grinned like he’d won the lottery. “Let’s go, then.”

I grabbed his hand and we ran across the street through the rain.

84

We couldn’t go back to De Sade – or at least I didn’t want to, because I certainly didn’t want to explain any of this to my employees – so I took him to the parking garage instead.

The Bentley’s top was already up because of the rain. As I jumped behind the wheel, all I could think of was getting Roberto back safely to my apartment –

Until he reached over from the passenger seat and grabbed me.

“I can’t wait,” he said in a sexy growl.

As I pushed him away, I giggled; I couldn’t help myself. This was the worst possible time to have sex –

But it was still fucking hot as hell.

“Roberto! No – ”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes,” he growled as his hand cupped my breast.

OH GOD…

It was like a current of electrical pleasure went straight to my pussy.

“…no…” I moaned –

And then he used the Voice again.

“YES.”

Oh fuuuuuck.

I was immediately wet.

He pulled me over the center console, dragging me towards him like a rag doll.

I shrieked and laughed, resisting at first –

And then I knew I needed him inside me more than I’d needed anything else in my entire life.

I kissed him, pulling on his lower lip with my teeth as I straddled him –

And felt his rock-hard cock against the inside of my thigh.

Oh God…

After that, it was a frantic blur.

He pulled my dress up to my waist –

I fumbled with his pants and reached inside –

And my hand closed around his shaft, hot and thick in my grip.

I moaned and pulled him out –

I felt him slide my thong an inch to the side –

And then I guided him into me as his hips rose up at the same time.

Ecstasy.

It wasn’t just his thick cock filling me up.

It was that his skin was so hot – and the rest of me was so cold – that the sudden warmth inside me made me shiver with delight.

“Oh my God,” I cried out.

“Fuck,” he grunted.

I began grinding my hips back and forth, faster and faster, feeling him deep inside me.

We kissed frantically as he grabbed and played with my ass.

Everything was wonderful –

But I reached the same plateau I always did.

The wall that kept me from soaring.

I couldn’t go any higher –

Until he took me there.

He grabbed my arms and forced them behind me, pinning me helplessly –

And it was like my entire body lit up with fireworks.

FUCK!

I went from 20 miles an hour to 60 in less than a second.

My eyes rolled back in my head –

I was so close to coming –

When I heard the Voice.

“Look at me.”

Dark…

Masculine…

Dominant…

Overwhelming…

His words sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine –

And I immediately complied, no matter how bad I wanted to come.

I looked down at him, though it was so difficult.

Suddenly, he let go of my wrists.

Immediate disappointment threw cold water on my pussy –

Until he yanked the sleeves of my trench coat down around my wrists.

Now I really was tied up –

And my pleasure skyrocketed even higher than before.

Before I could even register how good it felt –

He stared deep into my eyes and began to gently caress my clit.

“Oh my God!” I cried out.

His cock filling me up –

My wrists bound –

His gentle touch on my clit –

My desperation to have him, finally fulfilled –

I was right on the edge of coming when the Voice pulled me back.

“LOOK AT ME.”

I somehow summoned the strength to look at him… but it felt like I was stoned and would drift off into delirium any second.

I kept moving my hips, riding his cock.

He rubbed my clit firmer, faster, pushing me higher –

“OH FUCK!” I screamed as I stared into the depths of his eyes.

Oh God, oh God –

“Don’t come,” the Voice ordered.

But it was too much.

It was too good – he was too good –

“ROBERTO!” I pleaded.

“Don’t come.”

I had never needed anything more in my entire life.

“ROBERTO, PLEASE!” I screamed.

And then –

As he stared deep into my eyes –

He whispered, “Come for me.”

My orgasm came crashing down like a giant wave all at once.

Heat and pleasure and overwhelming bliss blanked out my mind.

The only thing that could pull me back to reality was the sensation of him coming inside me –

And it doubled my pleasure as I felt him explode.

I think my soul might have left my body for a few seconds.

When I finally came to, I collapsed on top of him, my face buried in the crook of his neck.

I couldn’t move for the longest time…

But I wanted to see him, so I finally gathered the strength to lift my head.

He smiled at me, and it was like the most glorious sunrise I’d ever seen.

Then he brushed aside the wet hair from my face…

And he whispered, “I love you.”

I was absolutely overwhelmed.

The pleasure from just a few moments ago?

No matter how amazing it was…

It couldn’t hold a candle to what I was feeling now…

Because I realized I felt the same way.

I was so overcome with joy that tears welled up in my eyes.

“I love you, too,” I whispered.

The voices immediately began yammering.

What about the mafia thing?

What about –

I pushed them aside.

It was easy to do.

No matter what happened from here on out, he loved me –

And I loved him, too.

We kissed…

And everything else faded away, leaving just the two of us… together.

85

We got back to the Summit without encountering the cops.

I was shivering from my rain-drenched clothes, so we took a hot shower and fucked in bed.

As we lay there afterwards, we talked…

And I opened up to him in a way I never had with anyone else.

He asked me why I’d freaked out when he’d told me he was in the Cosa Nostra…

And I told him about my father.

About being kidnapped.

About my father finding out I was into BDSM…

About him shaming me… slapping me… and disowning me.

Things got lighter when I revealed I’d known he was stalking me from the beginning.

His deflated reaction was adorable – like a five-year-old boy being told, no, he wasn’t the best baseball player who had ever lived.

Things got pretty insane a few seconds later, though, when I offered to let him borrow my gun for protection.

“Thank you,” he said, “but I need something else, too.”

“What?” I asked, figuring it would be something like a silencer.

“A block of plastic explosives,” he said. “C-4. Enough to blow up a car or kill everyone in a room.”

I stared at him in shock.

I had not been expecting THAT.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I need to pose a serious threat to force Lau to give me back my family’s money, and that’s the only thing I can think of.”

I laid my head on his chest because I couldn’t look at him.

Roberto was…

He was fucking insane.

But…

Was he?

Lau was the most dangerous man I knew.

A gun wasn’t going to do shit. Han or his thugs would just kill him the second the gun came out.

Maybe it had to be that extreme…

You want to be free of Lau, right?

Maybe this is the only way to do it.

When I didn’t say anything or look at him, Roberto began to stroke my hair gently. When he spoke, I could hear the regret in his voice.

“Forget about it. I have you back – that’s all I want. I’ll take care of the rest somehow – ”

Fuck it.

“Alright,” I said.

He sounded shocked. “Alright, what?”

“I can help you.”

He put a finger under my chin and tilted my head up to look at him.

His eyes were loving and full of concern. “You don’t have to.”

“I know… but I will.”

“You have contacts that can get what I need?”

“Yes.”

I paused.

Do I do this?

If I’m going to do it, this is the moment.

“On one condition,” I added.

“What?”

“That you take me with you when you leave Hong Kong.”

He stared at me in disbelief. “You’d leave everything you’ve built here?! Your business – your entire life?!”

“Yes.”

And it was true. I would throw it all away if I could get away from Lau.

We had a long discussion about why I hadn’t left Hong Kong already.

I couldn’t tell Roberto the real reason:

Because Lau would never let me leave.

I was his pet… he liked me on his leash… and he would never let me go.

I couldn’t tell Roberto that because I was terrified of how he would react if he knew I worked for his enemy.

But if I helped him escape Hong Kong, and he took me with him, then what would it matter?

A tiny lie of omission –

That’s all it was.

As long as we escaped – together – that was the important thing.

But Roberto had one last surprise up his sleeve.

“Alright,” he agreed, “I’ll take you with me when I leave Hong Kong… but I have a condition of my own.”

“What?”

“That when I take you with me… you stay with me.”

Okay…

I hadn’t been expecting that…

But it was a very welcome surprise.

“That’s a condition I’ll gladly accept,” I said with a smile.

As we made love for the next two hours, I think I was the happiest I had ever been in my entire life.

I was with the man I loved…

And I was going to escape the man I hated.

Everything was going to be wonderful.

86

The next day, I took Roberto to see Chaoxiang, my connection for everything black market.

Chaoxiang was a criminal, but he wasn’t triad. More like ‘triad adjacent.’ He was a free agent who did business with all the triad groups – and anyone else who would pay him. He was good at procuring whatever people needed; in return, gangsters didn’t fuck with him. As a result, he enjoyed a great deal of independence without having to bend the knee to a single triad boss.

I didn’t tell Chaoxiang I was coming to see him, though. If he had known I was bringing a laowai around to buy plastic explosives, he would have told me to fuck off.

Luckily, though, Chaoxiang had a crush on me. I used that to my advantage when we walked into his office in the back of the noodle shop.

As soon as he saw me, his scruffy face lit up.

“Ahhh – my favorite beauty queen has come to see me!” he said in Cantonese.

Then he saw Roberto.

“What the FUCK, Mei-ling?!” Chaoxiang roared. “What are you doing bringing a fucking cop around?!”

“Do you know any cops that dress like that?!” I shouted back at him. “His suit is worth more than what a cop makes in three months!”

Chaoxiang stopped yelling, but he didn’t look happy.

When he started speaking Cantonese again, I told him to use English so Roberto could understand him. Chaoxiang’s English was pretty broken, but it would do.

Once he realized he stood to make a lot of money, Chaoxiang chilled out and went into salesman mode.

He overcharged Roberto for the gun by at least 25%, but I figured he deserved it.

Chaoxiang seemed pretty happy, all in all –

Until Roberto asked about the C4.

Chaoxiang stared at him in disbelief, then turned to me.

“Is this fucker for real?” he asked in Cantonese.

“Yes,” I replied in English. “He knows what he’s asking for.”

After Chaoxiang got over his initial shock, the second round of bargaining began.

When it was all said and done, I was sure Chaoxiang had overcharged by 100%.

But fair was fair. If a gun could get you 14 years in prison, I assumed plastic explosives would get you life. It probably would have meant the death penalty if Hong Kong hadn’t abolished capital punishment back in the 90s.

If Chaoxiang was willing to take the risk, then he deserved to be adequately compensated.

He had to get the explosives somewhere else, so Roberto and I left the noodle shop and returned in two hours.

Chaoxiang came through for us. He opened up a Styrofoam takeout container, and there it was: death distilled down into a little brown block of putty.

“Jesus,” I murmured.

Roberto asked how to arm the explosive, and Chaoxiang gave him the basics.

“What if I want it so that if I let go of the handle, it detonates the C4?” Roberto asked.

Chaoxiang frowned, then asked me, “Is he talking about a death switch?”

That was the term for it in Cantonese. The translation into English was a little different.

“A dead man’s switch,” I suggested in English, and Roberto nodded.

A dead man’s switch, indeed.

It terrified me to know that Roberto might be forced to use the goddamn thing, but if this was the price of getting free of Lau…

So be it.

87

After I dropped off Roberto at the Continental, I drove directly to De Sade.

I was beaming as I walked into work.

The purchase of the gun and C4 had gone off without a hitch, which was a gigantic relief.

More importantly, Roberto had promised to take me with him when he left for Italy –

Far away from Lau, Han, and all the other assholes who made my life in Hong Kong intolerable.

Not only that, but Roberto had made me promise to stay with him.

When he’d first told me he loved me, I’d told him I loved him, too…

And I’d meant it.

He had stolen my heart when I least expected it.

But Roberto had said ‘I love you’ right after sex, half an hour after we were reunited.

I was afraid his words were just something he’d blurted out in the throes of passion.

I had wanted to believe him –

But now I actually did.

And I couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear.

I was exuberantly happy – and incredibly hopeful about the future.

So, of course, that’s when the bottom fell out.

I had just walked into my office when I got a call from Chaoxiang.

I grimaced. I’ll bet he wants more money.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Mei-ling?”

I could hear the fear and urgency in his voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“Lau knows you came to see me.”

All my happiness instantly evaporated.

“He sent his thugs to come get me, but luckily I was out. One of the guys in the noodle shop sent me a text. You need to get out of Hong Kong before they come for you.”

“What does he know?” I asked breathlessly.

“What does who know?” a grandfatherly voice said behind me.

My heart stopped in my chest.

Chaoxiang heard the voice, too.

“Fuck,” he cursed, then hung up.

I turned to see Lau in the doorway of my office, smiling benevolently.

Han stood behind him. He wasn’t smiling at all.

“What does who know, Ms. Chan?” Lau said as he strolled into my office.

“N-nothing,” I stammered.

“Hm… somehow, I don’t think you’re telling me the truth.”

Han shut the door as he walked in behind his boss.

It felt like I was being sealed inside a tomb.

Lau held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

He dropped all pretense of pleasantness. “Because otherwise, I’ll have Mr. Han break your jaw. Give me your phone.”

I trembled slightly as I handed it over.

He looked at the list of calls on the screen.

Unfortunately, I had Chaoxiang’s name programmed in.

“Ah, yes, everyone’s favorite black-market purveyor. He managed to evade the men I sent to collect him. Was he calling to warn you?”

“…yes,” I said dully.

“I appreciate you not lying to me,” Lau said, and flashed his grandfatherly smile again. “One of my spies saw you and Mr. Rosolini go there this morning. The two of you are back together, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful. I was beginning to worry Rosolini might tire of stalking you and start nagging me, so it’s nice to know he has you as a distraction again. What did the two of you purchase from Chaoxiang this morning?”

I didn’t answer.

Lau sighed, then said in a bored voice, “Mr. Han.”

Han pushed down on my shoulder, forcing me into my office chair.

Then he pulled out a cigar cutter – the kind with a razor-sharp blade that slides over a circular hole.

He grabbed my arm. I fought back, but he cranked my wrist painfully and nearly broke my pinky sliding it through the hole.

“Stop – please!” I begged Lau.

“Tell Mr. Lau the truth, or I’ll start with your finger,” Han said coldly. “Then I’ll move on to your clit.”

I had zero doubt that Han would follow through on his threat.

Lau looked at his right-hand man with distaste –

Although I knew it was only because Han had said the word ‘clit’ out loud.

Lau’s disgust had nothing to do with the actual threat itself.

“I would prefer you tell me the truth,” Lau said as he loomed over me. “It would be far less bloody – and much more helpful to me. So far, everyone but Mr. Han thinks you’re a loyal employee who played Rosolini like a violin… and not a scheming little whore who tried to betray me. So I’ll repeat myself one more time. What did you and Rosolini get from Chaoxiang this morning?”

I sobbed.

Before I could answer, though, my phone rang.

Lau still held it in his hand, and he glanced down at the screen. “Speaking of our mutual friend…”

He held up the phone so I could see who was calling:

Roberto.

“Should I let you answer?” the old man mused aloud. “No… I don’t think you’re in any state to talk to him right now. Let’s see if he leaves a message.”

My stomach churned in fear. I was absolutely terrified of what Roberto might unwittingly reveal.

The three of us waited in silence until a chime let us know Roberto had left a voicemail.

Lau tapped the screen and played it.

Roberto’s voice, happy and hopeful, filled the room.

“Something’s come up, so I had to book a flight leaving Hong Kong tomorrow morning at 11 AM. I want you to go with me… and I just need to confirm you still want to come. We can talk about it tonight. I’ll see you at 10 o’clock.”

My heart hammered in my chest.

Roberto had actually meant everything he said…

And now I was about to betray him.

“How sweet!” Lau said with a benevolent smile. “He’s planning to spirit you away, just like in a fairytale. But that means he plans to accelerate the conclusion of his business. Do you know why Rosolini is in Hong Kong, Ms. Chan?”

“N-no,” I stammered.

I felt the blade of Han’s cigar cutter bite into my skin –

“He said he had some sort of business meeting with you and some other people, but they’re taking forever to get here!” I shrieked. “Please, I don’t know anything else!”

Lau nodded at Han, and his pet psychopath backed off.

Tears streamed down my face as I sobbed.

Sensing that he had won, Lau gave me a smile. Not a grandfatherly one, but a smirk of triumph.

“I’ll tell you why he’s here: because he invested 50 million euros with me, and now he thinks he can demand it back just because he ‘needs’ it.”

I stared up at Lau in shock.

50 million euros?!

Lau continued. “I’ve done my best to stall him. You were useful in that endeavor – very useful. But if Rosolini plans to leave Hong Kong tomorrow morning, that means he has either given up on the money… which I don’t believe for a minute… or he has a plan to force me to capitulate. Which leads us back to my original question. Tell me, Ms. Chan… what did Chaoxiang sell Rosolini?”

I sobbed in defeat.

I’m sorry, Roberto…

I’m so, so sorry…

PART III

88

Roberto

As dusk fell over Hong Kong, I looked down at the city from the bay window of my penthouse suite.

Han stood beside me. In his hand was the Glock I’d bought from the gun merchant.

When I’d pulled it out of my suitcase three minutes ago, Han had aimed his own pistol at my head the entire time.

“What were you planning to do with this?” he asked mockingly.

I didn’t answer.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s over now,” Han said as he pocketed the Glock. Then he jerked his thumb at the two gangsters behind us – young thugs in suits with shoulder holsters under their jackets. “Ming and Jin will guard you. If you need anything, ask them. Don’t try to leave… or else.”

When I didn’t reply, Han turned to go.

“Did you know?” I asked, though I kept looking out the window.

“What – about Mei-ling?”

“Yes. Did you know?”

“Of course.”

I turned and glared at him hatefully. “Did you take me to De Sade that first night just so I’d meet her?”

Han looked puzzled for a second. Then he broke into a smirk – one of the few times I’d seen him smile when he wasn’t drunk.

“No – but where do you think we got the idea to use her? You. You were obviously infatuated with her. She works for us, so I told Mr. Lau about it. He told her to do whatever it took to keep you in Hong Kong.” Han shook his head like I was a fool. “You were the one who picked her. We just used her against you.”

I had to turn away from him.

If I’d had the Glock in my hand, I would have shot him right then and there – even if it meant the other two gangsters killed me.

Han didn’t say anything else to me, though he spoke in Chinese to the two gangsters before he walked out.

I kept staring down at the city, wondering if I had brought about my family’s destruction –

Over a woman.

Except…

There was one thing I couldn’t account for.

When I’d unwrapped the Glock and handed it to Han, I’d waited for him to say, Where are the plastic explosives?

But he didn’t.

He never even mentioned them.

Obviously, I said nothing. I’d kept my face as blank as possible –

But that single detail bewildered me.

If Mei-ling betrayed me –

Which she obviously did –

Why didn’t she tell them about the C4?

It wasn’t like she could have forgotten.

Part of me kept grasping for hope, like a drowning man reaching for straws in a hurricane.

Maybe she has a plan!

Maybe she tried to give me a chance to get free!

But another part of me – the wounded, betrayed part – kept picturing her ashamed expression when she walked into the boardroom.

At least she felt bad about stabbing me in the back.

Not that her feelings mattered.

Nothing mattered.

There was no way out of my predicament except to blow myself up with the C4.

Lau had taken my cell phone, so I couldn’t contact my family.

Han had removed every landline in the penthouse except one – and my guards were keeping watch over it.

The plane would be arriving for me tomorrow morning at 11 AM –

But there was no way for me to reach it.

I was well and truly fucked…

All because I’d trusted her.

89

Eventually, I tired of my rage and self-loathing and went and poured myself a glass of scotch.

While I did, I took stock of the two men guarding me.

They weren’t the sharpest tools in the shed.

Ming – or Jin; I had no idea which was which – sat in a chair and leaned back against the wall, far enough that the chair continually threatened to slide out from under him. He seemed to be doing it solely to amuse himself and see if he could keep from falling.

I thought about going over and grabbing the pistol out of his shoulder holster, but I was fairly sure his companion would kill me before I could get a shot off.

The other man sat nearby and started complaining about something in Chinese. The two of them argued back and forth until the guy leaning in the chair raised his voice in irritation.

I had no idea what he said, but it sounded like, Either do it or shut the fuck up!

“Hey,” the complainer called to me in heavily accented English. “We order room service. You want food?”

I glanced over at him, then looked back out the window as I sipped my scotch. “No.”

The complainer walked over to the single phone remaining in the penthouse and called the front desk. He spoke in Chinese for about half a minute, then hung up.

Twenty minutes later, a man in a hotel uniform arrived at my door, pushing a cart with two silver domes.

The complainer shooed the man away, wheeled the cart in himself, and removed the domes…

Revealing greasy cheeseburgers and fries.

Figured.

I watched as he and the chair leaner stuffed their mouths like seven-year-old boys.

Ah well.

At least some people were enjoying themselves.

“Hey,” the chair leaner called to me.

I looked over at him.

He pointed at the bar full of alcohol and raised his eyebrows like, You mind?

“Go ahead,” I said.

I almost said Knock yourself out –

But then realized that maybe, just maybe, they might.

The gangster grinned and pulled a bottle of Grey Goose vodka off the shelf.

Much to my consternation, he was the only one who drank it.

The complainer stuck to a soda from the mini-fridge. He smirked when he saw me glance at him.

Thought we were BOTH going to get drunk?

Wrong, asshole.

Maybe they weren’t so dumb.

In fact, maybe I was the dumb one.

After all, I was the one being held captive…

Because I’d thought with my dick instead of my brain.

STOP IT, I inwardly shouted.

I knew it wasn’t just about sex.

It was because I’d trusted my heart instead of my head.

But in some ways…

That was even worse.

I spent the rest of the evening in a dark depression, lying on my bed and listening to my captors watch an action movie in the other room.

I eventually gave in and had them order me a steak from room service.

I forced myself to eat, even though I didn’t have much of an appetite.

I figured… just in case… I should keep my strength up.

One other thing:

I didn’t have any more alcohol. Despite my foul mood, I refused to get drunk.

Just in case the hopeful part of me was right…

And there was a reason Mei-ling hadn’t entirely ratted me out.

I fell asleep praying for a straw to save me from the hurricane.

My prayers were answered the next morning…

In the oddest of ways.

90

Iwoke the next morning after a night of restless sleep.

The alarm clock said 7:56.

Three hours until my private plane – the one I’d paid half a million dollars for in Bitcoin – was ready to take off.

I knew there was only a short window of time it would stick around. Maybe an extra three or four hours at most.

The company would try to call me – but since Lau had my cell phone, I wouldn’t answer, and they would eventually depart… stranding me in Hong Kong.

So if I wanted to be on that plane, I had seven hours to figure out how. Five hours to be safe.

I got out of bed and began pacing as I weighed my options.

I could use the C4 to blow up the two gangsters in the next room.

Arm the block of explosives, toss it through the door, and detonate it –

But I had no idea how big the blast range would be. I might kill myself in the process.

Even if I survived, I would probably be injured.

I certainly doubted I could get to the airport without being caught.

I was deep in thought when I heard Chinese being spoken loudly in the next room.

I frowned, threw a hotel robe on over my boxers, and walked out of my bedroom.

The two gangsters were standing at the front door, blocking my view of whoever was there.

The complainer was arguing with someone –

And a woman argued back.

I would have recognized that voice no matter what language she spoke.

Mei-ling.

Astonishment, hope, and hatred all wrestled inside me.

She raised her voice to a shout, and the complainer fell silent.

That’s when she brushed past them, giving them one last shout for good measure.

She looked absolutely stunning.

She wore a bright red dress that hugged her graceful curves. Her hair was done up elegantly atop her head, and her makeup was flawless.

The two gangsters looked like little boys scolded by their mother. They glanced at each other uneasily but didn’t say anything.

“Ah, darling,” Mei-ling said breezily as she walked over to me –

Like she hadn’t signed my death warrant the day before.

Silently, she mouthed two words at me:

Trust me.

Despite my anger, I was also bewildered. That was the emotion that came through as I asked, “Why are you here?!”

“To fuck you, of course,” she purred as she took my hand and led me along behind her.

I followed her in a zombie-like state of shock.

Before we entered the bedroom, she turned back and yelled at the gangsters once more.

I didn’t need to understand Cantonese to get the gist: You FUCKING IDIOTS!

The complainer lowered his head like a whipped dog…

At which point Mei-ling slammed the bedroom door behind us.

91

“What – ” I started to say –

But she put a finger on my lips and pulled me into the bathroom.

“Oh, God, Roberto, I’ve missed your cock,” she groaned loudly. “Let’s fuck in the shower. Fuck me like you did that first night we were together.”

She immediately turned on the shower full blast –

Then turned back to me, stood on her tiptoes, and pulled my head down so she could whisper in my ear. “The place is bugged. Don’t say anything you don’t want them to hear.”

I remembered Niccolo’s warning to me so long ago, and how stupidly I had ignored it once I fell under Mei-ling’s spell.

Then I watched as she quickly took off her heels and peeled off her dress, exposing a gorgeous set of black lace panties and bra.

“Oh God, let me see that big cock,” she moaned –

But at the same time, she scowled and jerked her head towards the shower.

Get in!

I dropped my robe in stunned silence and watched as she reached behind her back and unlatched her bra.

Her gorgeous breasts jiggled as she took off the brassiere and hung it on the nearest towel rack.

“Oh God, Roberto, it’s so big,” she groaned as she stepped out of her panties.

Despite all my anger at her, hearing her say those things – and seeing her naked body – made me start to get hard.

She glared at me as she pulled back the glass door and stepped inside the shower.

Are you coming or NOT?

I pulled off my boxers and stepped into the shower with her.

My cock was already three-quarters erect and getting more so with every heartbeat.

As Mei-ling stepped under the spray of hot water, she raised one eyebrow as she stared at my crotch.

“Mm,” she commented, this time not for the benefit of anyone listening in.

I whispered, “What are you – ”

She immediately pressed her naked body up against mine so she could whisper in my ear.

Her belly pressed against my now fully erect shaft.

It felt so good that I almost forgot how angry I was.

“Well, at least part of you doesn’t hate me,” she whispered. “Do you still have the other thing?”

I figured I knew what she meant. “The – ”

She put her finger against my lips and shook her head. Not out loud.

I nodded Yes.

She immediately looked relieved. “Good. We need to – ”

I grabbed her throat in one hand and slammed her against the tiled wall.

Her eyes widened in shock –

But after a second, she recovered enough to make a joke. “I thought you didn’t like choking.”

“I should kill you for what you did,” I hissed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “but I had no choice. You have to trust me – ”

“Why? So you can betray me all over again?”

“Is that a serious question?” she whispered angrily. “I would have told them everything if I wanted to betray you. Now – are you going to listen or not?”

I relaxed my hand around her throat. After a few seconds, I pulled it away.

“…I’m listening.”

She briefly outlined what had happened.

Lau had had spies tailing us the previous day.

However, the spies didn’t know what we’d bought.

Lau’s men went after the gun merchant, who luckily escaped.

He tried to warn Mei-ling –

But it was too late.

Lau and Han arrived at De Sade and threatened to torture her unless she told them what we’d bought.

She broke down and told them –

But only about the gun.

They forced her to come back to Lau’s office and wait until she was needed for the big reveal –

The moment Lau had orchestrated to humiliate me and grind me into the dust.

I had to admit, he had done just that.

“Why did they let you in?” I whispered, pointing back towards the main room and the two thugs.

“Lau let everyone think I was a faithful employee who played you like a violin,” she whispered sarcastically. “The old man is brilliant, but his ego is monstrous. He couldn’t have anyone suspect I nearly betrayed him, so as far as your guards know, I’m 100% loyal to Lau. They were a little suspicious, but I told them I was supposed to keep you happy – and if they had any doubts, to call Mr. Lau himself. But if they pissed him off, it was their necks on the line.”

“And they bought that?!”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but Han didn’t exactly put his top men on the case.”

“They’re not that stupid,” I snapped. “Neither is Han.”

She gave me a look like Don’t you GET it yet? “Han and Lau think they broke you. That they didn’t need to put their top men on the job because you wouldn’t fight back.”

Her words stung my pride.

The fact that I had been so easily dismissed by my enemies infuriated me.

So I fought back –

But against the wrong person.

“How do you know they’re not in there calling Han or Lau right now?” I demanded.

Mei-ling sighed in exasperation like she didn’t have time to explain – but knew she’d have to because I was being unreasonable.

“One of the talents I developed as a dominatrix is reading a man instantly. Knowing what he wants… what he fears… what he desires but is too ashamed to ask for. The lead guy, the one in charge, has mommy issues, so I exploited that. The other one’s a follower. Once he saw his partner fold, he didn’t say shit.”

I looked at her, stunned.

I had underestimated her –

Just like Lau had underestimated me.

But there was something I was dying to know.

“What did you know about me when we first met?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Are we really going to do this right now?”

“Tell me.”

She sighed. “At first I saw an awkward teenager who didn’t know how to talk to a woman.”

I winced the tiniest bit.

She’d perfectly described the first night I’d talked to her in the club.

“But I was in a bad mood when we met, and I was predisposed to think the worst of you. Then you surprised me by being kind and considerate… and quietly confident. And then you really surprised me.” She gave me a lop-sided smile. “I had no idea what you really wanted, not until you told me – and you had all sorts of layers I didn’t anticipate. It’s like you’re really bad at the surface-level chit-chat that doesn’t mean anything… but you’re pretty fucking amazing when it comes to the deeper stuff.”

I stared deep into her eyes.

She’d basically summed me up perfectly in just a couple of sentences.

Damn.

“You’re also a plotter,” she whispered, “so I assume you’ve been plotting.”

“I have,” I admitted.

“Care to tell me?”

I hesitated… then put my ego aside.

If she had wanted to betray me, she would have done it yesterday and told Lau everything.

I ran down the things that would need to happen for us to get out of the hotel.

She listened carefully and nodded.

“Do you think you can do those things?” I whispered.

“Absolutely.”

“We have to get to the plane. It’ll be here at – ”

Mei-ling grimaced. “I know. So does Lau. He was there when you called, and he listened to the voicemail.”

“Shit,” I groaned.

“He didn’t bother to do anything about it since he knew he was going to imprison you – but we can’t go to the airport. As soon as he finds out we’ve left the hotel, he’ll send Han to intercept us.”

“FUCK,” I hissed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said absentmindedly as I kept thinking.

And then the solution presented itself to me, fully formed. It was beautiful in its simplicity.

“We go to him,” I said.

Mei-ling stared at me. “…what?”

“No – this is perfect. I might even be able to make him give back my family’s money.”

“The 50 million in Bitcoin?”

I stared at her in astonishment. “How did you know about that?!”

“Lau likes to brag when he’s won.”

“My family needs that money to fight the war with my uncle.”

Mei-ling looked thoughtful. “I think I know a way we could get it…”

She outlined a scheme that complemented mine perfectly.

“That’s brilliant,” I said in amazement.

“You might not get it all back, though,” she warned me.

“As long as I go back with something, it’s fine. But…”

“But what?”

“If even a single part of this plan doesn’t work, we could die.”

“If the plan doesn’t work and we don’t die,” she said gravely, “you have to promise to kill me.”

I stared at her in horror. “What?!”

“If I help you and we don’t pull it off, Lau will torture me to death. He won’t let me off the hook this time. If we fail… I need you to promise to kill me.”

I stared at her in shock. “…I…”

She cupped my face in her hands. “I can’t let him control me anymore. I’m not willing to live like that. I’d rather die quickly than for it to take hours – or days. Will you promise me?”

I hated it, but I promised. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll go out together in a blaze of glory.”

“And if it does work – you’ll still take me to Italy?”

“Yes, of course.”

She looked relieved. “Thank you.”

“You thought I’d leave you here?”

Shame filled her face. “I was afraid… after everything that happened… that…”

I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her deeply.

She kissed me back passionately – then broke away.

“There’s a lot to do – we should leave now – ”

“If we walk out too early, Tweedledum and Tweedledee won’t believe we had sex,” I said. “They might get suspicious.”

She grinned. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” I joked.

“Well, since it might be the last time… make it good.”

I reared my head back in surprise to look at her –

And as I stared her in the eyes, I realized she was right.

So we fucked with the wild abandon of two lovers about to embark on a suicide mission.

92

It was quick –

But it was hot.

I pinned her arms above her head, pressing them against the shower wall.

One of my hands clasped her tiny wrists –

And I used my other hand to fondle her breasts as I kissed her.

She moaned into my mouth, then raised one leg and wrapped it around my waist.

I had full access to her pussy –

So I used my free hand to guide my cock inside her.

She was soaking wet and took me easily.

She grunted with pleasure as I slid inside her –

Then moaned as I began to thrust.

Tired of holding her arms above her head, I let go of them –

Pulled her away from the wall –

And grabbed her ass with both hands so I could support her weight.

She took the cue and lifted her other leg.

Within seconds, both her legs were wrapped around me, and I was deep inside her.

“Put your hands behind your waist,” I growled.

She did as instructed –

And I grabbed her wrists again with one hand while supporting her ass with my other arm.

Then I fucked her hard and deep.

She groaned and screamed as the hot water streamed over us.

I knew we didn’t have long – the plane was waiting, and we needed to get started –

So I let myself come.

The second before I did, I growled in her ear, “COME FOR ME.”

Her screams reverberated all around us against the tiles.

After it was over, I withdrew from her…

And we kissed slowly… tenderly.

She was still coming down off her post-orgasmic high, but her eyes were clear as she looked into mine.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I whispered.

“Yes,” she answered softly.

“Even though there’s a good chance we die?”

She looked deep into my eyes and said, “I’d rather die with you than live without you.”

Jesus…

What a woman.

I kissed her again…

And then we set out plan into motion.

93

Twenty minutes later, Mei-ling was dressed to leave the penthouse. Her hair was wet and in disarray, and her makeup was completely gone.

She was still the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

I put on a hotel robe and walked her out to the main room.

The two gangsters smirked like, We heard what you two were doing in there.

Mei-ling told the thugs in Cantonese that I wanted breakfast from room service…

Then she gave me one last kiss and walked out.

The gangsters watched her go, their gazes fixed on her ass.

When they turned back to look at me, there was a new level of respect in their faces.

I extended my thumb and pinky, making the shape of a phone with my hand, and held it up to my ear.

“Room service,” I said impatiently.

“Yes, boss,” the lead gangster said with a smirk as he walked over to the phone.

I put on my clothes while I waited.

After I was fully dressed, I opened my safe and put my passport in my back pocket. I guess Han hadn’t bothered to take it because he didn’t think I could get past his men.

The food came in 20 minutes. The hotel employee had just enough time to wheel in the cart before the two gangsters chased him away.

Not only was there a continental breakfast, but the gangster had ordered two more cheeseburgers for him and his friend.

While they wolfed their food down, I ate my breakfast leisurely, as though I didn’t have a care in the world.

By the time I was finished, forty minutes had passed since Mei-ling had left.

I was just pouring a last cup of coffee when the fire alarm started, piercing the air with an ear-shattering shriek.

The leader of the two gangsters cursed but didn’t move.

The other thug said something, and they began arguing.

I assumed the leader didn’t want to take the chance of letting me out of the penthouse.

That was when I pointed out the window and shouted, “Look!”

Both men glanced over at the plume of smoke drifting past our window.

The leader cursed again, then pointed at me and motioned towards the door. “We go.”

“Hold on,” I said as I ran for the bedroom.

The leader yelled at me angrily and followed.

I grabbed my suitcase – already prepped and ready to go – and turned around.

The gangster gesticulated angrily as he shouted in Cantonese.

I was pretty sure the gist of it was, Leave it here!

I shouted back just as angrily, “This is $30,000 worth of clothes! $30,000 US! I’m not fucking leaving it here to burn up!”

He gave up arguing and motioned for me to go.

I raced past him with my suitcase –

Including the block of C4 hidden inside.

The two men put their hands on their gun holsters as we rode down in the elevator.

The message was clear: Don’t fuck around, or we’ll kill you.

When the elevator stopped at the ground floor, the doors opened.

The lobby was bedlam.

Dozens of people were pouring out of the elevators; a hundred more were shoving their way toward the front doors.

Hotel employees yelled at everyone to remain calm.

Some people were fully clothed, while others wore pajamas or plush hotel bathrobes.

The lead thug clamped his hand on the back of my neck and guided me out through the crowd. The second thug followed close behind.

In the distance, fire truck sirens blared. They were getting closer but were still far away.

Once outside, the three of us stood with hundreds of other people on the street corner beside the hotel. Everyone was looking up at the top of the building.

Just a few floors below the penthouse, a window was broken. Black smoke poured out of the crack, and orange flames flickered behind the glass.

I scanned the crowd.

No cops.

Good. That would make it easier.

I didn’t want to do what I was about to do –

But I knew my captors would kill me if the situation were reversed.

As the Golden Rule of the Cosa Nostra said:

Do unto others before they can do unto you.

Though the lead thug’s hand was still on my neck, he was staring up at the fire along with the rest of the crowd.

He didn’t see the woman headed towards us in a bathrobe…

With a towel covering her hair and a Covid mask over her face.

Mei-ling.

She passed right in front of me, pausing just long enough to hand me her .22 Smith & Wesson revolver.

Then she kept walking.

I glanced at the thug with his hand on my neck.

He was still staring up at the fire and saying something to his buddy.

I took a deep breath –

Jammed the Smith & Wesson up under his jaw –

And pulled the trigger.

BANG!

A .22 is a small caliber bullet without a lot of power behind it. At least, not compared to a 9mm or a .357 round.

A .22 bullet has more than enough energy to enter a person’s body but often not enough to exit –

Especially when you fire directly into their head.

What usually happens is the bullet ricochets around inside their skull, turning the victim’s brain to oatmeal.

Lars told us that in training.

He was 100% correct.

The thug collapsed to the ground without the bullet blowing its way through the top of his head.

In fact, the only blood was a fine mist from the entry wound that sprayed across my hand.

However, the gunshot was loud.

Everyone around us screamed in terror and ran –

Except for the second gangster.

He looked at his fallen comrade first, then over at me.

The expression on his face was like a confused Golden Retriever.

When he saw the Smith & Wesson, he finally realized what was happening.

He reached for his shoulder harness –

But by then it was too late.

BANG!

I shot him in the right eye.

He went down screaming.

Once he hit the ground, he started flailing around –

So I fired again into the side of his head just to make sure.

BANG!

His body went limp.

Now I was alone on an empty street corner. Everyone else had fled.

I looked for cops –

None to be seen.

But a silver Bentley was parked in front of the Continental. The car’s convertible top was down, exposing the interior.

Mei-ling had already stripped off her head towel, face mask, and robe, and was sitting behind the wheel waiting for me.

I raced over, threw my luggage in the back seat, and jumped in the passenger side.

She immediately roared off into traffic.

My job had been easy:

Get outside with my suitcase and shoot the thugs.

Mei-ling’s job had been much more elaborate:

Get into a room on one of the floors just below the penthouse, either by renting it at the front desk or lying to a housekeeper doing their rounds.

Break the glass window with a heavy object, just enough to let smoke pour out.

Start a fire – preferably the drapes and bedspread.

Steal a bathrobe and towel, plus a mask – which all the rooms offered free to guests.

Get out of the hotel, park the Bentley someplace close by for a quick escape, and walk into the crowd dressed in her disguise, ready to hand off the gun when she saw me.

There had only been one thing I thought might be a problem.

“How did you start the fire?” I asked.

“A guy was sneaking a smoke in the stairwell. I offered him $500 for his lighter.”

“Nice.”

I wiped my hand off on my pants. No one would see the blood on the black material.

“Are you okay?” Mei-ling asked nervously as she zipped through traffic.

I looked around for any cop cars that might be following us.

There were none I could see –

Although fire trucks roared past us on the way to the hotel, their sirens deafening.

“I’ll be a lot better once we get there,” I said as I reached in the back seat for my suitcase.

I ripped apart the silk lining and popped open the two smuggling compartments.

In one was the C4…

And in the other was the hand-held detonator.

I pulled the C4 out of the compartment and stuck both wires into the putty.

“For god’s sake, don’t arm it yet,” Mei-ling cried out.

I smiled grimly as I dropped the putty in the suitcase, zipped it up, and pocketed the detonator. “Don’t worry. Just get me inside the building – I’ll handle the rest. By the way, I need your phone.”

She handed it over, and I called Niccolo.

When he first came to work for my family, Lars had set up a protocol for contacting each other from unknown numbers.

I was supposed to text Niccolo a code first, but since it was about 3 AM his time, I didn’t think he would care.

It took six rings, but my twin finally answered.

He didn’t say anything, though.

That was part of Lars’s protocol.

I said in Italian, “It’s me, and I’m outstanding.”

‘Outstanding’ was code to let him know I wasn’t phoning under duress from an enemy.

“Thank God,” Niccolo said, and I could hear the relief in his voice. “I’ve been trying to call you, but you don’t pick up – what the fuck is going on over there?!”

“Lau took my phone. I need you to wipe it with that remote software program we installed.”

“Was I right? Were they working with Fausto?”

Rather than the usual self-satisfaction I might have expected, all I could hear in my brother’s voice was fear.

“You were right. But I have a shot to turn it around.”

“What are you going to – ”

“I don’t have much time and I need you to write something down. Have you got a piece of paper?”

Niccolo grabbed one and told me to go ahead.

I recited a long string of letters and numbers – one of my many Bitcoin accounts – and a 15-word recovery password, along with instructions on how to use them.

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“If negotiations go well, you’ll need it to access any money I recover.”

“Why can’t YOU access it yourself?”

“In case negotiations don’t go well enough.”

“…are you fucking with me right now?”

“No.”

“Are you saying you could DIE?!”

“It’s a distinct possibility.”

“ROBERTO – ”

“There’s no time. How’s Massimo?”

“He came out of surgery okay, the doctors think he’ll live – Roberto, what the FUCK is going on?!”

Mei-ling pointed ahead of us, and I looked up.

We were only a few hundred feet from Lau’s office building.

Once we drove underground, I would probably lose reception –

And there wouldn’t be another opportunity to call him until this was all over.

If I was still alive.

“I’ll call you as soon as I’m safe,” I said, “but check that account every 15 minutes. If you don’t hear from me within three hours, sell any crypto you get and transfer it to a bank immediately. Do you understand?”

“Roberto – ”

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!” I yelled at the top of my voice.

“…yes.”

“I have to go,” I said. “Tell everyone I love them. I love you, too, Nic.”

“ROBERTO – ”

I hung up the phone as the Bentley pulled into the underground garage.

94

If anyone knew about the shooting at the Continental, they hadn’t told the parking booth attendant. He was scrolling on his cell phone as Mei-ling drove up and took a ticket from the automated dispenser.

We parked in a spot and hurriedly got out.

I kept the Smith & Wesson but concealed it in my pants pocket.

The detonator was inside my jacket…

And I carried my suitcase with my left hand as we walked to the elevator and rode up to the ground floor.

The people in the lobby were going calmly about their daily routines.

They were blissfully ignorant of the mess that had occurred just a few miles away –

And of the drama about to unfold here.

Thirty seconds later, Mei-ling and I were alone in an express elevator to the 70th floor.

I looked at her and saw both fear and wild abandon in her eyes.

At the same instant, we leaned forward and kissed passionately.

I pulled away first. “I love you.”

She smiled. “I love you, too.”

“Ready?”

She nodded.

The bell dinged, and the elevator door opened.

95

We strolled into the lobby like it was just an ordinary day.

I did my best to play it cool –

Not at all like a man with a gun and plastic explosives.

The receptionist looked up, saw Mei-ling, and smiled.

Mei-ling came into the office every single day to drop off the payments from De Sade. The receptionist usually buzzed her in without a word.

Mei-ling had told me the same thing would happen if we were lucky.

We weren’t lucky.

The woman was just about to let Mei-ling in when her gaze darted over to me –

And her eyes widened.

I’d been escorted out the previous day by Han and half a dozen thugs.

If she had seen that, no doubt my face would have been burned into her memory.

I got ready to pull out the gun if necessary –

But Mei-ling started speaking Cantonese.

She’d told me beforehand what she would say:

Mr. Rosolini has decided to accept the terms Mr. Lau offered him yesterday. I’m here to broker the deal.

The woman looked confused, but she was just a receptionist, not privy to the inner workings of the company.

Plus, she knew and trusted Mei-ling…

So she buzzed us on through.

We walked through the door at a normal pace.

“Good job,” I muttered under my breath.

“Thank Lau,” she murmured back. “He’s the one who told everybody I’m a loyal employee.”

We continued down the hall until we reached a beige office with an open door.

Mei-ling had told me it belonged to a man named Gongsun, Lau’s chief accountant.

There was an entire department on the 69th floor devoted to accounting, but Lau kept Gongsun close because he handled all the firm’s illegal transactions.

As we’d planned, I kept behind Mei-ling, trying to stay hidden behind her.

When we walked into the room, a fat, middle-aged man with thinning hair and dark circles under his eyes was clicking away on his keyboard.

I shut the door behind us so none of the workers outside the office would see anything.

If Gongsun looked up, he only saw Mei-ling because he spoke Cantonese in a bored voice.

Mei-ling replied, then ended with a question I’d told her to ask:

Are the crypto accounts open on your computer?

Gongsun sounded confused, but he must have answered in the affirmative –

Because Mei-ling said, “Do it.”

I quickly stepped out from behind her, my gun aimed at the man’s head.

“Get away from the computer,” I ordered.

I knew he understood me. Mei-ling had said he was fluent in English.

Gongsun’s eyes stared at the gun in shock –

And then, stupidly, he glanced back at the screen and reached for the mouse.

Rather than shoot him and announce our presence, I settled for pistol-whipping him.

One blow across the face sent him reeling to the ground.

“Try anything,” I snarled as I pointed the gun at him, “and I’ll kill you.”

He cowered on the floor with his hands over his head.

“Keep the door closed,” I said to Mei-ling as I sat in Gongsun’s office chair.

I peered at the monitor and clicked through open browser tabs until I found what I was looking for.

I immediately recognized the layout for Kryptexa, one of the largest international crypto trading platforms. I had an account myself.

Gongsun had kept his Kryptexa account page in English, thank God.

I checked the screen for the amount of crypto in the account –

And froze in shock.

Total assets were listed as 4167 Bitcoin.

Over 250 million dollars US.

Either Gongsun was a moron to keep that much crypto in one place…

Or this was merely what flowed in and out daily.

If that was the case, the Syndicate was a multi-billion-dollar operation –

And a much bigger organized crime front than I had realized.

Whatever the case, my bad luck had turned around in an instant.

I quickly navigated to the Transfer screen and entered the 36-digit address for one of my own crypto accounts.

Then, in the ‘Total Amount To Transfer’ box, I entered 4165 Bitcoins, which left two Bitcoins for transfer fees.

The screen prompted me for a two-factor authentication code, which make it harder for hackers to steal your money. The codes were generated by special apps on a cell phone and refreshed every 60 seconds.

Luckily for me, Gongsun had left his cell phone on his desk.

I looked for the app used by Kryptexa –

Ah, there it is.

Seconds later, I typed the authentication code into Kryptexa and the transfer was cleared to go.

I hit the ‘Send’ button –

And it was done.

My crypto account would receive $250 million of Bitcoin within the next 30 minutes.

I had just stolen a quarter of a billion dollars from Lau…

And there was nothing he could do to get it back.

“Are we good?” Mei-ling asked.

“Very good,” I said. “Get behind the desk.”

As she ran over to me, I pulled the detonator from my suit jacket, gripped the levered handle tightly in my left hand, and turned the key.

The green light came on.

My suitcase was by the door…

And now the C4 inside it was armed.

“Please don’t let go of that until you absolutely have to,” Mei-ling moaned.

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” I replied in an amused voice.

Then I picked up the revolver in my right hand.

Gongsun whimpered on the floor.

“Do we need him anymore?” Mei-ling asked.

“No.”

Mei-ling prodded him with her toe and said something in Cantonese.

Gongsun whimpered and got up slowly.

“Go tell Mr. Lau that Roberto Rosolini wants to see him immediately,” I ordered.

Gongsun stared at me –

Waited an instant longer to see if I was fucking with him –

And then ran into the hallway screaming in Cantonese.

Whatever he said, all the cubicle dwellers ran screaming from their desks, too.

I placed the gun on the desk where I could reach it if needed.

I made sure the detonator was firmly gripped in my left hand…

Then I looked at Mei-ling. “You might want to get behind the desk… just in case.”

We both knew it wouldn’t do anything to shield her from the explosion –

But it might stop a few stray bullets.

She kissed me. “Good luck.”

Then she crouched behind the desk for cover.

I turned to face the open door.

I didn’t have to wait long.

96

Iexpected Lau and Han –

But Xi, Gota, and half a dozen of their men rushed to the open doorway, too.

Everyone but Lau was brandishing a gun –

And all of those guns were pointed at me.

I intentionally left the Smith & Wesson on the desk. I didn’t want to give them a reason to open fire.

“You,” Lau seethed the instant he saw me. I had never seen such rage and malevolence on his face before.

I held up the detonator in my hand so everyone could see the green light. “Before anyone makes any rash decisions, there are two things you should know.”

“What the fuck is that?!” Gota snarled.

“A detonator for a block of C4, set to a dead man’s switch,” I said.

Lau looked over at the desk where Mei-ling was peeking out.

If looks could kill, she would have been incinerated.

“That’s right – she didn’t tell you everything I bought on the black market,” I said, unable to keep myself from gloating just a tiny bit. “If any of you shoot me, I’ll let go of this detonator, the C4 will explode, and we’ll all die together.”

“You’re bluffing,” Gota sneered.

I looked at Gota, but I said, “Mr. Han?”

There was a long pause…

And then Han said quietly, “He doesn’t bluff.”

So he did remember our night at the casino.

Gota’s face went slack with shock.

Most of the lower-level gangsters looked like they were about to shit their pants.

Han scowled –

But Lau?

Lau smirked like he was amused.

“You said I should know two things,” he said. “What is the second?”

“I just transferred 250 million dollars’ worth of Bitcoin from the Syndicate’s account to one of my own.”

Lau’s smirk quickly faded.

“So if you shoot me,” I continued, “not only will you die, but you’ll never get your money back. Although I suppose you won’t really care, since you’ll be dead.”

Lau’s emotions pivoted back to rage. “You STOLE from me?!”

“Borrowed.”

“Oh, and you’ll just willingly give it back!” the old man snarled sarcastically.

“Yes, I will. Minus the 50 million that’s mine.”

Lau’s eyes widened. “That’s what this is about?!”

“That’s what this has always been about.”

Lau laughed – more in disbelief than amusement. “Why should I believe you?”

“For the same reason you didn’t kill me when my uncle tried to bribe you: I don’t need more enemies. I certainly don’t want a war with you, the triads, and the Yakuza, especially while we’re fighting my uncle.

“Which is why… if you give me and Mei-ling safe passage to the airport, and allow us to return to Italy… you’ll receive all 200 million dollars back. I swear it on my family’s lives.”

At the mention of her name, Lau glared at Mei-ling behind the desk.

He said something vicious in Cantonese, and she shouted back at him.

Han swung his pistol in her direction –

“Point your gun at me,” I warned. “If anyone harms her in any way, I’ll kill all of you.”

“You’ll kill her, too,” Han pointed out.

“She told me that if we didn’t succeed, she wanted to die – ”

I looked at Lau.

“ – because what you would do to her would be worse. ”

The old man didn’t contradict me, which I took as confirmation.

“Both Mei-ling and I are happy to go out in a blaze of glory and take all of you with us. So – all guns on me.”

Han reluctantly pointed his pistol back in my direction.

But there was at least one person who wasn’t convinced.

“That means you’ll die, too,” Gota said.

“That’s correct.”

The Yakuza boss gave me a you’re-full-of-shit smile. “You won’t do it.”

“If all of you die, no one will ever know where the Bitcoin went. The Syndicate’s accountants will just know it got transferred out, but they’ll never be able to retrieve it.”

“But you’ll be DEAD!” Gota roared, like I was an idiot for not seeing the flaw in my plan.

“And I will have secured a 400% profit for my family. I’d say that’s an excellent return on investment.”

Gota shook his head in disbelief. “You would die so your brothers can be rich?”

“So they can survive and win the war against my uncle?” I paused, then smiled. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“I don’t believe you,” Gota sneered –

And aimed his gun at my head.

“Here,” I replied. “Let me make it easier for you.”

I slowly walked around the desk…

Holding up the detonator so everyone could see it…

And pressed my forehead against the barrel of Gota’s gun.

I stared into his eyes as I said, “If you’re so confident… pull the trigger.”

Gota stared at me like I was absolutely insane.

“You called me a half-breed yesterday,” I said coldly. “Do you remember?”

Gota swallowed hard. “Yes.”

I gave him a chilling smile. “You were right. The Florentine banker in me tried to play nice… but you’re dealing with the Sicilian half now.”

97

Lau was the only one with any sense.

“Mr. Gota, put your gun away,” he snapped.

“He’s bluffing,” Gota said – but he sounded a lot less confident than earlier.

“You already heard Mr. Han’s opinion on that,” I said.

“Put the fucking gun down, Gota,” Han snarled as he pointed his own gun at the Yakuza boss’s head.

Three of the other gangsters immediately aimed their guns at Han.

I was momentarily afraid that it really was going to end badly –

When Lau shouted, “EVERYONE! Put your guns down, NOW!”

Every single gangster in the room – Han, Xi, and Gota included – gradually lowered their pistols.

Lau turned his fiery gaze on me. “Satisfied?”

“Thank you. Do you agree to my demands? Safe passage for Mei-ling and me, and you agree never to come after us?”

Lau narrowed his eyes. “If you don’t give me back the 200 million, I will not only send men after you, Ms. Chan, and your brothers… but I will have my men bring you back here where I will make your deaths both excruciating and slow.”

“I believe you.”

“You should also know there isn’t a place on Earth you can hide from me.”

“And you should know that if you try to get revenge on Mei-ling, I’ll spend the rest of my life tracking you down… and I will make your death horrific in ways that only a Sicilian can.”

The tiniest bit of a smile tugged at the corner of Lau’s mouth…

Almost like he respected me.

Then he regained his neutral composure. “One more thing.”

“What?”

“I need to make a phone call before you leave.”

“Why?”

“To tell them to let you use the helicopter on the roof – and to give instructions that if you detonate the bomb and kill us when you leave, assassins will still hunt you down.”

I considered, then nodded. “Go ahead.”

Lau pulled out a cell phone and made a call. He spoke in Cantonese, though I heard the name ‘Rosolini’ more than once.

Then he hung up.

“Did he do what he said?” I asked Mei-ling.

“He did,” she confirmed in a shaky voice.

“Alright. Do we have a deal?” I asked the old man.

“When can I expect my money back?” he growled.

“I’ll transfer it as soon as we arrive safely in Italy. Do we have a deal?” I repeated.

He looked at me for a long moment… then nodded.

“We do. The two of you may take my helicopter to your plane.”

“WHAT?!” Gota roared.

Lau silenced him with one single, hateful look.

Then he turned back to me.

“Well played, Mr. Rosolini.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lau. It’s been… interesting.”

The old man almost smiled…

And then he told everyone, “Let them go.”

“Are you SERIOUS?!” Gota snapped.

Lau glared at him with the fire of hell in his eyes. “Let… them… go.”

Gota looked like he was about to object…

But then he gave up.

He lowered his gun and muttered something in Japanese.

His three underlings glanced at each other, then holstered their guns…

At which point Xi spoke in Chinese, and his men put up their guns, too.

I held out my hand to Mei-ling. She came out warily from behind the desk and put her hand in mine.

Lau gave me one last irritated look.

Han’s face was back to emotionless, as usual.

“Gentlemen,” I said.

Then Mei-ling and I walked out of the room.

98

Once Mei-ling and I were in the elevator, I hit the button for the rooftop.

She looked at me in shock –

And then she broke out into almost hysterical laughter. “OH MY GOD!”

I laughed, too – though more out of relief than anything else.

“OH MY GOD!” she shrieked again happily.

I took her in my arms and kissed her passionately.

The door to the rooftop opened, and we walked out into the sunlight towards the waiting helicopter.

“You’re going to turn that off now, right?” she asked nervously, gesturing towards the detonator still in my hand.

“A deal’s a deal,” I said as I twisted the key until the green light went out.

99

The helicopter took us to Hong Kong International Airport without incident.

When we reached the private jet in Hangar 32, no gunmen were waiting for us.

We boarded the plane safely with virtually nothing but the clothes on our backs.

Though we were more than an hour late, the crew said nothing.

The stewardess checked our passports. I had mine in my back pocket, and Mei-ling had also brought hers.

The British pilot asked if we still wanted to go to Tuscany. I’d had to supply a destination when I’d booked the flight with the private broker.

“I think we’re going to a private airfield outside Florence, but let me confirm that.”

I borrowed Mei-ling’s cell phone and called Niccolo.

“Are you alright?” he asked frantically the second he answered.

“More than alright – I’m on the plane as we speak.”

“Good,” he said, his voice overwhelmed with relief. “You’re not hurt?”

“Not a scratch.”

“Excellent! Now – WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GET 250 MILLION DOLLARS?!”

So he had checked the crypto account like I’d told him.

“Don’t get excited. We have to give most of it back.”

“What?! Why?!”

“I’ll tell you when I get there. Right now, the pilot’s asking where we’re going. Should I tell him home, or – ”

“No, go to Venice. I didn’t get to tell you when you called before, but that’s where we are. Dario wanted to be with Massimo.”

“Alright, I’ll text you our ETA after I talk to the pilot. By the way, I’ll be bringing someone with me.”

“Who?” Niccolo asked. I could hear the burning curiosity in his voice.

“You’ll see. Ciao.”

“Roberto – ” he said indignantly.

I hung up and turned to the pilot. “We’re going to Venice.”

“That’ll be close to 14 hours. We should get to Marco Polo International around…” The pilot did a few calculations in his head. “…roughly 8 PM local time.”

“Excellent.”

“You should get to your seats – we’ll be taking off in just a few minutes.”

“Thank you.”

I texted Niccolo ETA Venice 8 PM, then handed Mei-ling her phone as we strapped into seats facing each other.

“Do you really have to give back the money?” she asked wistfully.

“I have no interest in looking over my shoulder the rest of my life.”

“Then I would think you’re in the wrong line of business,” she teased me.

I grinned. “Let me amend that: I have no interest in looking over my shoulder for Han the rest of my life.”

“But it’s 200 million dollars.”

“A deal’s a deal.”

“Hmph,” she pouted playfully as the jet roared down the runway.

We both stared at each other the entire time, waiting in fear for an explosion –

And only breathed easily when we reached cruising altitude.

“We didn’t get blown up,” Mei-ling said, almost like it was a shock.

“Not yet, anyway,” I joked.

Once the stewardess told us we could move about freely, I got out of my seat, went over to a sofa along the cabin wall, and motioned to Mei-ling. “Come here.”

She got out of her seat and sat facing me, her legs curled up under her body.

I kissed her, and she kissed me back.

“Thank you,” I whispered when I pulled away. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled sadly. “I suppose we’ll be going our separate ways when we get to Venice.”

“Or… we could get married.”

She stared at me, shocked speechless.

“Is that you thinking about it?” I asked playfully.

“Let me get this straight: you want me… who betrayed you to your worst enemies…”

“You made up for it,” I said with a smile.

“To marry you… who nearly blew me up.”

“But I didn’t,” I pointed out comically.

“…why?!”

“Well, I would have had to blow myself up, too.”

She pushed against my shoulder in playful indignation. “You know what I mean!”

I became serious as I stared deep into her eyes.

“I love you. I didn’t know what that truly meant until I met you. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved… and the only woman I ever want to love, from now until I die.”

Tears welled up in Mei-ling’s eyes.

“I just need to know one thing,” I said quietly. “My family is part of the Cosa Nostra. I can’t abandon them… which means I’m part of the Cosa Nostra, at least for the foreseeable future.

“I know you had your issues with your father and then with Lau – but I promise you, my family is different. I’m different. But… I’ll still be involved in a life you never wanted. Is that something you can live with?”

She smiled sadly. “With anyone else… no. With you… I’m willing to try.”

“Then marry me. I don’t have a ring for you yet… but marry me.”

She opened her mouth to answer –

And then gave me an impish smile.

“No.”

I suppressed a grin of my own. “Marry me.”

“No.”

I pulled her forcefully to me and looked deep into her eyes from just a few inches away. “Marry me.”

She broke into the most beautiful smile I had ever seen.

“…yes.”

We both laughed and kissed passionately…

As our plane soared home to Italy.

Pre-order MAFIA KINGS: VALENTINO now for the special price of $2.99!

VALENTINO will cover the arranged marriage between Valentino and a Sicilian mafia don’s daughter…and what Caterina does as a result!

(Don’t mind the release date on the Amazon book page – I’ll publish the book as soon as I finish writing it, probably in late November 2024.)

After that will be NICCOLO in early 2025, which will wrap up the series (or at least this current storyline).

EPILOGUE FOR ROBERTO

If you’re already on my email list, you can download the Epilogue for Roberto here! You’ll be prompted to enter your email address to make sure you’re on the list.

You can also download the Epilogue for Lars here…

The Epilogue for Massimo here…

And the Epilogue for Adriano here.

If you’re not on the mailing list yet, join here and you’ll immediately get the Epilogue for Dario. Then come back here, click the previous links, and you can get the other Epilogues.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Check out my website to get on my mailing list and receive the Epilogue to MAFIA KINGS: DARIO!

www.oliviathorn.com

You can find me on Facebook at…

https://www.facebook.com/oliviathornbooks

And feel free to drop me a line at

olivia@oliviathorn.com

ALSO BY OLIVIA THORN

Mafia Kings: Dario

Mafia Kings: Adriano

Mafia Kings: Massimo

Mafia Kings: Lars

Mafia Kings: Roberto

Mafia Kings: Valentino (Pre-order now)

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AS OLIVIA THORNE

Billionaire Romance

ALL THAT HE WANTS

The Complete Series

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THE BILLIONAIRE’S KISS

The Complete Series

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BILLIONARE BAD BOYS

The Billionaire Bad Boys Collection

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Motorcycle Romance

MIDNIGHT DESIRE

The Complete Series

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Rockstar Romance

(Careful - cheating, love triangle, Happily For Now ending)

ROCK ME HARD

The Complete Series