Page 21 of Trapped

“Yes, Mr. Costa.”

He shook my hand.

I gestured to my bodyguard. “Hook him up.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Costa. This is gonna change my life.”

“I suggest you concentrate on making money.”

I waved him off, watching him slink away. Same story, different face. People like Greg—and even Delilah—were my bread and butter. Their desperation kept me thriving.

The next guy mumbled about protection, but all I could see was Delilah. Her laughter, her smirk, how her eyes lit up when she got what she wanted.

A text buzzed on my phone.

Principessa

Guess what came in the mail ;)

A photo of her in the lacy lingerie I bought two days ago popped under the message. Thought it’d look hot on her, and I was right, judging by the mouthwatering image she sent me.

She was bent over, the phone between her bare legs. Her head hung upside-down, and she wore a coquettish grin. The lingerieclung to her curves perfectly. A thin strip of fabric barely hid her pussy, and her free hand gripped her ass.

Damn.

Heat curled below my waist. I saved the photo to a private album and scrolled through the others, blood rushing to my cock. Only she could get me hard while men surrounded me.

Wear it tonight. I’ll pick you up at 8.

Principessa

OK.

Thank you. <3

I tightened my grip on the phone before shoving it back into my pocket and standing, signaling for my bodyguard to take over. The cool night air slapped me awake as I stepped out of Afterlife.

The day we’d met still blazed in my mind. Delilah was unforgettable. With the bold red lipstick and winged eyeliner, she was a walking advertisement for a gun moll.

Colpo di fulmine.

It meant getting struck—like a bolt of lightning. My Nonno used to talk about it, said it made him steal a capo’s woman. He’d called it a curse, even though he spent the rest of his life with her. He’d laugh about how he didn’t have a choice. The second he laid eyes on her, it was like a fire lit under his skin. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

I always figured it was his clogged arteries.

I never thought it would hitme.

Then she walked into Afterlife.

Struck.

She was too perfect to ignore, and she needed me.

I had no love for the Romanovs, but something about her made me hesitate. A Russian princess begging her enemy for help.

As I climbed into my car, I fantasized about Delilah. Her smile, her body, the way she made me feel. I gripped the wheel, my knuckles white against the leather.

I couldn’t afford to lose control.