My hands are at his pants, palming his cock, urging him on even more.
Oh God.
What am I doing?
Fuck. I know what I’m doing, and I don’t know if I can stop.
Chapter Eleven
Mircea
Nothing can stop me now. Absolutely nothing. Bianca ended up in my bed, and now everything I’ve planned will fall into place. I remember the way she shut her eyes as soft moans slipped from her lips. The way she dug her nails into the bed and my back, urging me to plunge my cock deeper inside her. Fuck, even if things go south I can hold this over her head. I’m not opposed to blackmail when it’s a last resort.
Even though she was obviously enjoying it, Bianca seemed a bit off. When her eyes were open, it was like she wasn’t even with me. Was she imagining another man satisfying her? I’m sure if I put in the work she’ll fall in love with me. Many women have. Shit, I fucked one girl in Vegas a few times over the course of a month and when I stopped fucking her she cried how she had feelings for me and whatever. If she can fall so easily, can’t Bianca?
But women are passionate in bed. They want to be touched, to feel your lips pressed against theirs in the most sensual of ways. Or at least this is my experience. I’ve had a few women who want nothing more than for me to fuck them like a rag doll, but I never once anticipated Bianca Petran would be one of those women. I still don’t think she’s like that. Which causes me to have some worry flooding through my mind.
I have to get her to fall in love with me. I need to become king of the Clans, for it’s my right. It’s what my father and I have always worked toward. Every move we’ve ever made has been calculated and well thought out, from the smallest of details to the biggest charades.
There’s no doubt in my mind that Bianca was blankly staring while we fucked. I’m certain she wasn’t imagining me . . . which only means I need to get smarter. I stand up and head to the bar in my hotel room, pick up a bottle of vodka, and pour myself a hefty glass.
Running a hand over my jaw, I mull over the options available to me. I could wine and dine her, slowly making my way into her heart to gain more information . . . but the sad reality is that time isn’t on my side.
I take a swig of the vodka and as the liquid floods over my tongue, shocking my senses alive, I realize I don’t have the time for it. I need someone to do this for me. Someone good, and more than that, someone who works quickly. There is a woman who splits her time between New York and Boston. She’s supposedly one of the best private investigators on the East Coast, and if she’s as talented as her reputation says she’ll have no problem gaining the information I require.
Picking up my phone, I scroll through my contacts, stopping on Beretta Bosco’s name. I’ve never been the type of man who’s unprepared. I always have a plan B, and a plan C incase my second plan goes wrong. It just so happened that Beretta has been on my resource list for a while, even though I’ve never met the woman.
I tap on her name and bring the phone to my ear, waiting as it rings. I expect to go straight to her voicemail, but an awkward Boston-New York accent greets me. “It’s Beretta. What do you need?”
Well, this is an interesting greeting. She almost sounds aggravated that I’ve called. “Hi, Beretta. My name is Mircea Lazar and I’d like to hire you, or your company to do some work for me.”
“Alright. Where you at?” She has a certain slang about the way she speaks, talking like a thug.
“New York.” I reply quickly.
“Perfect. I’m currently in town. What do you need, mister wise guy?”
“Wise guy? I’m not Italian.”
She laughs, “Yeah, and I’m not an idiot. Mister . . . listen, you say your name like you’re a God or somethin’. Trust me, you’re a wise guy. Now, what do ya need? I don’t have a lot of time to be wastin’. Ya know? Payin’ clients and all.”
I nod even though she can’t see me. “Yes, of course. I need you to follow someone. Her name is Bianca Petran. I can give you her address and let you know the places where I believe she frequents.”
“Alright, sounds good. Am I lookin’ for anythin’ in particular?”
“I’d like to know if she’s dating anyone.”
“Ah, one of those cases. I take it you’re scorned enough to want information quickly?”
“Yes, and I’ll reward you handsomely for your quick service.”
“Send me five grand today and I’ll start right now. But, I’ll be real with you. I know who the Petrans are . . . and followin’ them could get me into some deep shit, so feel free to tack on another two grand for my danger level. Kay?”
“How am I supposed to pay you?” I question, preferring to give her cash.
“I’ll text ya in a bit with the info. Now, I gotta go find your girl. Peace, fancypants.” Beretta disconnects the call and within a few moments I have a text message with some sort of PayPal invoice.
Well, okay then.
Five hours pass by.
Five agonizing hours of communicating with my father, giving him updates, letting him know my plan, and then going over why my plan works better than his. He’s the most controlling person on the planet, though I do know he means well.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of me and I pick it up after seeing Beretta’s name. “Hello?”
“Hey, I got your girl. And I don’t think you’re gonna like
