LUCA

In the months since I've become Don, many things have changed—far too many for me to list, to be completely honest.

However, one of the good changes has been my purchasing of the strip club. Yes, the one that had dicks pictured on the outside of the building. They've since been removed as Raven has taken the reins on the club and turned it into a classier place.

Raven seems to be thriving in her role as owner and operator. She's taken it on with brilliance and I'm proud of her and the things she's accomplished with it.

Not only has she aesthetically improved the look of the place, but she's also made sure the workers are happier with their jobs. I think the last owner was fairly scummy, and both Raven and I—despite being part of the fucking mafia—don't want to run the business that way.

My girl's also vastly increased the profits.

It helps that the women are more pleased with their jobs. It also helps that she's beefed up the security so less money has gone missing. She's very careful with her books, as well.

As I said, she's doing an exceptional job.

When I walk into the club, it's empty inside. It isn't unusual—it's closed early for this particular night and the cleaning staff has obviously already made their way throughout.

I'm here to pick up Raven because it's date night. Despite being the Don and being busy almost constantly, I've made it a habit that we still have date night. We need the time alone together. Time when we don't discuss work shit and just enjoy one another's company.

Of course, she's with me every day at some point throughout. However, there are some days when she's here, at the club, or when she's flown out to see Dove and AJ. She's still with me majority of the time, but it's often during hours that revolve around work.

Fuck all of it. The whole reason I'm doing any of this is for her. I'd give it all up for her too.

I walk over to the main stage, calling out for Raven. She knows I'm here, so I shrug my suit jacket off, hanging it over the back of a nearby chair, moving to sit myself in it. I spin around in it, moving to face the stage as I await my girl like I always do.

I begin scrolling through my phone—positive she's doing last minute work things like she typically does. I fire off a few responses to texts and emails that I've been sent throughout the day and haven't had the time to answer.

It isn't until I hear the distinctive sound of a microphone being picked up—that familiar sound of feedback ricocheting off the walls—that I get curious as to what Raven's up to.

"I see you've taken a seat," she says over the speakers. "You'll notice I've left you a drink." I glance over at the table beside me to see that there's a glass of brown liquor that I hadn't noticed when I sat down.

I pick it up, knowing she's observing on the cameras as she muses, "Good boy. Now sit back and enjoy."

I can tell that date night is about to be later than I anticipated. Not that I have any issue with it. The security outside won't enter unless told to do so. And Nero will stay parked where he is for hours if he has to. The dinner reservation will wait. We won't be bothered.

It's amazing how you can toss money at any issue—even something as simple as a late dinner reservation—and make it disappear. As long as you have enough cash on hand.

I put my phone on Do Not Disturb, stuffing it into my jacket pocket. Then I relax into the chair and toss back the whiskey she left for me just as music begins lowly thumping around us.

She walks out in heels that must make her six inches taller and white lingerie. The lingerie isn't her usual type, but it looks gorgeous on her—her luscious thighs, hips, tits, legs, ass.

She looks excited, but there's amusement on her face that I can't immediately place.

"Raven, you look—" I can't finish the sentence. All that comes past my lips is a pained rush of air. For a moment, I think I've swallowed my tongue.

She spins slowly, tossing the long waves of her hair over her shoulder. Her hair, as well as a veil that I missed spotting—was distracted from seeing—when she initially stepped out.

Slightly confused, I relax further into the chair, resting an elbow on the one cushioned arm. I draw two fingertips over the stubble just below my lower lip, waiting for her to help me understand.

"It's the lingerie," she explains and it takes me a moment to realize what she's referring to—she's making a comment about how I tried to say she's fucking beautiful but got tongue-tied. She's dismissing her beauty and explaining that it's the clothing that's making me feel the way I do.

She's bloody wrong.

Lingerie that I never would've guessed she'd wear. The knickers are your typical skimpy kind—the tiniest scrap of silken material possible. Not her usual fabric. However, it's the bra that makes me ponder because it covers more skin. It tapers up and around her neck, where a thick, silky band forms a bow at her nape.

"No, no," I shake my head, wetting my lips as my eyes drag down her body and then back up again. "It's you. Only you," I assure her. "It has nothing to do with the lingerie, my love."

She gets that smirk on her face again. The one that tells me there's more to this story that she hasn't told me yet. Something that'll surely explain why she's dressed bridal.

Stepping forward, she wraps one hand around the pole as she finally informs me, "Micro bought it for me. Before, y'know, his untimely demise and all that."

I hide the smirk behind my fingers. "You're twisted, Moonlight."

She anchors her grip on the pole and twists around it in a complete circle, stopping only when her back is to me. She turns her head to the side, peering at me through her peripheral, squatting down in a way that showcases her ass and makes the blood in my body begin rushing straight to my dick.

"I figured it's the perfect fuck you to him. You can grab each piece of hideous fabric and shred the fuckin' thing." She's wearing that sly smile as she adds, "As you fuck me in it."

I recall faintly how months ago—when Micro was still alive and she was forcibly engaged to him—she mentioned he'd bought her lingerie. How he couldn't stop talking about how excited he was to have his way with her in the very articles of clothing she's wearing now.

She hated it. It disgusted her. So she jokingly told me that one day she wanted me to fuck her in it to get back at him. My girl is a petty one.

She stands and spins again, teasingly dragging her hands over her body.

She's so bloody beautiful, but all my mind is thinking are filthy things—like her fuckable tits and a mouth that I can't decide whether I want to kiss or defile with my cock.

Raven doesn't wait for me to respond, instead she hits a tiny remote to switch the song and begins to dance for me. I sit back comfortably, knees relaxed apart as I observe her expertly swing around the pole to the beat.

At some point, she grips the top of the veil and pulls it from the back of her head. She then secures her hold on either end of the long piece of fabric and tugs, shredding it in two. The ripping sound that fills the space causes a smirk to tug at both our mouths.

She continues dancing as I admire how sexy she looks. And strong, as she secures her grip and maneuvers to an upside down position that informs me she's been practicing. She's spoiling me and I'm far too lucky a man. I don't deserve it, in all honesty. Don't deserve her and her trust.

There are still things she doesn't know about me. Shit that might change her mind about me.

But I would burn the fucking world to the ground to keep her. I'd move heaven and earth to keep her safe. She's etched into my entire being. Forget the copious amount of ink on my skin, if you peeled open my chest, you'd find the letters of her name carved into my heart.

At some point, she really begins feeling herself. Whatever nerves she had when she initially stepped out have faded away and she's swinging around the pole, swaying her hips, moving her body sensually and perfectly with the music.

Raven trails her hand up the steel pole, circling it once before she grabs it with both hands and thrusts her ass in my direction to give me a glorious view. That's about all I can take, I need to touch her.

"C'mere, Angel baby." I run my fingers along the stubble on my jawline, my knees relaxing further apart to give her the space to stand between them.

She does as I ask, swaying her hips teasingly as she does so. My angel dressed in white, in the most sinful of locations. I fucking love this woman.

When she gets to me, she stops right between my knees, instantly reaching for my belt. She unbuckles it and yanks it from the loops. Bending over, she makes quick work of my zip, and then places her palms to my thighs.

"Good girl," I purr lowly, kissing her possessively, claiming her.

Pulling apart, I begin undoing the buttons on my black shirt as she straddles my lap. Once they're unfastened, she grabs either side of the fabric and tugs it open.

She draws her manicured nails over my bare chest—nails that I want digging into my back as I fuck her. I grab her wrist, gently tugging it down. "Feel how hard I am." My voice is a low rasp, my balls tightening as I press her hand to the opened fly of my dress slacks. She cups me, moaning, fingers tightening over my throbbing cock as I tell her, "You did this to me. You drive me fuckin' mad."

I place my hand over hers, "Is this what you want?"

"Luca—" she says my name, but it comes out more like a moan. My name on her lips is the equivalent of her tongue running along the sensitive vein on the underside of my cock. I'm already hard, but she teases me over the fabric of my slacks because she knows I love the slow torture. I become painfully hard, unable to think about much more than how badly I crave her.

Hooking her fingers into the waistband of my pants and boxer-briefs, she encourages me to lift my hips so she's able to tug them down far enough to free my dick. I grab the thin strap of her tiny thong and yank until the flimsy thing rips and I'm able to tear it from her body.

We both smirk as I toss it to the ground. She wastes no time in grabbing my cock, adjusting herself in my lap, and sinking down on me. I groan and she shudders when her hips meet mine and I'm rooted as deep inside her as I can go in this position.

"Fuck, Raven."

As she begins to ride me, I wrap my tattooed fingers around the front of her neck possessively, collaring her throat. My gaze meets hers as I growl, "You're so fuckin' beautiful." I ghost my thumb along her carotid artery, feeling her pulse hammer beneath my touch. "And you're all mine," I breathe, the words spoken like a vow.

"Yours," she confirms, on a moan.

She fucks me at her own pace, steadying herself by keeping her arms wrapped around my neck. It perfectly places her gorgeous tits right in my face and I enjoy the view, running my hands up and down her sides.

Eventually, I anchor my own hands on her waist and begin to lift my hips, meeting her thrust for thrust from underneath. She whimpers in ecstasy, her fingers digging into my shoulder blades as she tucks her head into the crook of my neck.

"I know, baby, I know," I grunt, snapping my hips upwards into hers even harder.

"Luca, I—" She's breathless, gasping a curse. "That feels so fuckin' good. Don't stop."

I keep the pace, observing my beautiful girl unravel before me. I can tell when she's close—I can see it in the way her face transforms and her nails dig harder into the back of my neck. But when she finally cums around me, she squeezes me so tight that I nearly join her.

"Jesus Christ, Raven."

Remaining inside her, I grip her waist and lift her, securing her to me as I walk us forward until my shins hit the end of the stage. I place her carefully on her back, admiring how her long hair fans out around her angelically.

I run my fingers along the silk wrapped around her neck until I find one of the tails of the bow and I pull, loosening it. Then I grab the lace front and rip the hideous thing from her body. She gasps, arching her back into me as I toss it behind her.

And then I fuck her—hard.

Apparently not rough enough though because she arches her back into me as she cries out, "Harder."

And since my girl always gets what she wants, I do just that. Reaching a hand between us, I play with her clit. The other collars her throat while she wraps her delicate fingers around my wrist to encourage me to squeeze.

She smiles when my digits press into the sides of her neck for a moment. "I love you," she promises on an exhale. "I love you, Luca."

I press my mouth to hers in response. "I love you more, my girl."

"I—I'm gonna'—" She tries to finish the sentence, but she can't. I don't need her to because I'm right there with her, teetering on that edge.

I use the hand that was wrapped gently around her throat to gather her wrists and stretch them above her head. I lace our fingers together and give her six more hard thrusts—rough enough to make her body move up on the stage, to make her tits bounce, to create a resounding slap! that echoes around us each time my skin meets hers.

Our mouths brush against one another on each snap of my hips, our breaths mingling together. And then lust crashes over me like a wave in an ocean crashing against the abrupt edge of a towering cliff. It hits Raven so hard that I feel her legs trembling beneath me.

When we come down, we're both breathless. Raven is clearly spent so after pulling out of her, I lift her in my arms and carry her towards her private bathroom just off her office to place her luscious ass on the vanity. I grab one of the plush hand towels and wet it underneath some warm water, using it to clean myself from between her legs.

"You alright, my love?"

She smiles and laughs, "I'm fantastic. Let's go have dinner."

I press a quick kiss to her lips, tossing the small cloth into the trash as I exit her office. "I'll wait for you out here."

After quickly cleaning myself up in the men's washroom and buttoning back up my slacks and dress shirt, I head back out to the chair I was seated in. I gather the shreds of her lingerie and toss it in the nearby rubbish bin, slip on my suit jacket, and then take my empty whiskey glass back to the bar for it to be cleaned.

As I place it near the other soiled cutlery and glasses, I notice someone must have forgotten their debit card because it's been discreetly hidden under the top ledge of the bar. I read over the name—no one I recognize—and it doesn't seem suspicious. I do think it's an interesting choice that they've chosen to depict a joker or jester on the actual laminated plastic though.

I place it back where it was as I continue to wait for Raven.

When she steps out from the bathroom, she's wearing a beautiful sundress and she's fixed herself up. In all honesty, she looks more sexy now than she did in the lingerie Micro chose.

She's glowing. And as she approaches me, I see entire galaxies in her eyes.

I can't help it, I grab her face in both hands and descend my mouth upon hers, kissing her so hard she'll feel me for the next fucking week. For forever.

I fucking love every single thing about this woman.

With her hand in mine, I begin leading her out of the building. Nero is parked across the street waiting for us and so I begin to head in that direction. However, as we're about to cross the street, I take a look to the right and we stop on the sidewalk when we spot two people fighting.

They stumble out from the alley between the club and the building next door to us. It isn't until I see hair dyed a vibrant colour that I realize exactly who it is—Kash and Shaye.

Kermit has gone from his tennis ball buzzcut to longer strands of hair that he's coloured purple. It makes him look like that lanky fucker from that one Monsters, Inc. movie.

Don't ask how I even fucking know who that is.

Kermit and Shaye are grunting, swearing, and currently Shaye has the upper hand and is tossing punches into Kermit's stomach.

Raven and I stop, watching the two of them be the morons we've always known them to be. They tumble and roll closer to us and I instinctively step partially in front of Raven to protect her.

I don't trust Kermit. He sees a woman like Raven and goes full caveman and sees her as nothing more than an object he wants to display. I'm not giving him the opportunity to get close to her.

Observing the two of them is like watching two filthy rats fighting in the street. Like watching two turds being flushed at the same time—which will go down first?

When they finally cut the shit, they begin laughing as if they weren't just having a full-on fist fight in the street. They're clearly more than intoxicated—not that it helps me to understand why friends behave like that. Granted, there's about one braincell between the two of them.

As Kermit finally stands, I see how greasy and sickly over-tanned he looks. Like he's just come from getting a cheap orange spray tan. His skin has the appearance of one of those hot dogs you'd find in a petrol station—the ones endlessly rolling under the heat lamps collecting bacteria.

Eventually, Shaye's the one who twists his head in our direction first. He spots us and taps his knuckles against his best friends chest to get his attention.

The moment Kash realizes it's us standing and observing them, his face flashes with anger and annoyance. He whispers something lowly to Shaye and considering the wicked glint in his eye when he begins approaching, I'd bet every dollar I've earned that it whatever he said wasn't good.

He's got one of his classic shit-eating grins on his face. He's about to stir whatever he can possibly stir.

"Hey! It's Cain's little lap dog." The smirk is immediate on Kermit's face and I know it's coming. After a moment's pause, he makes a quizzical expression and inquires, "How's Adiv doing? Oh, shit, right—"

It stings, I can admit it. But I refuse to give him the reaction. He doesn't deserve one. "Listen, Kermit, if I wanted to hear you talk shit, I'd cut off your fuckin' tongue and shove it up your ass."

"Try me, motherfucker."

"I know you've been gone for a while—doing God knows what—but you don't know the shit I've done to earn this position. Don't fuckin' test me, Kermit."

As I speak the words, I momentarily glance down at his hand. The one missing fingers. The one I disfigured.

I've spilled enough blood that the soles of my feet are constantly hot because with each step I take, I'm wandering through the depths of hell. Kash has no fucking idea the dark, depraved things I've done to be standing here before him as Don. It's best that he doesn't test me.

Especially when I recall him throwing himself at Raven. The time when Cain had shown me footage of him groping Raven in her bathing suit, which resulted in me losing control and removing two of his fingers.

The scar I received from that event is still embedded in my palm. A constant reminder of the evil shit I've done.

In all honesty, I probably should've killed him then.

"Ohh—" Kash mocks me, "I'm so fuckin' scared. The guy who was suckin' Cain's dick stabbed him in the back and not only stole his fuckin' place, but started fucking his niece. I have no reason to be scared of you, mate." Again, he's mocking, speaking the last word in a horrible British accent. "I've always seen you for exactly what you are, Moreno. You don't fuckin' intimidate me."

"Then you're an idiot, Kermit." This time it's Raven speaking up and I could kiss her simply for using my horrible nickname for him. "Luca could snap his fingers and Nero would break your neck."

"Wouldn't even do it himself," Kash laughs, bumping shoulders with Shaye.

"Laugh about it all you want, Kash, but Luca has exactly everything you've ever wanted. Not only did he get me—the girl you desperately wanted to fuck—but he has so much power that he has the luxury of not having to get his fingers dirty. I know you sit at home alone at night jerking yourself off at the idea of having so much unchallenged authority. So go cry about it." Raven's words affect him more than he'd like to show, but it's because she's right about everything.

All Kash has ever wanted is to be king. He can't stand that I'm the king.

"You need to control her," Kermit snaps, as if he has the right to speak to or about her like that. But his sudden anger gives away how deeply Raven cut him.

"I don't control her," I bite back. "If she wanted to burn this club to the ground, I'd be the one handing her my fuckin' lighter."

Kermit is fucking deranged if he thinks it's acceptable to talk to Raven at all. Dude is living in the 51st state—a state of fucking delusion.

Kash opens his mouth to say something else, but he quickly shuts it when we hear sirens echoing nearby. I can't tell if they're cops or an ambulance, but it doesn't matter. It's enough to get Kash to shut his annoying ass up and run.

Frankly, I don't want to stick around either.

"This isn't over, Moreno." He snaps before the two of them turn on their heels and take off into the unlit alleyway four buildings over.

I take that as my cue to leave as well, intertwining my fingers with Raven's and using the hold to encourage her towards the car. As I aid her in getting into the vehicle, I can't help but wish that was the last time I'll ever see Kermit again.

Something tells me it definitely isn't.