Prologue - TO

LUCA

POWER. MONEY. VENGEANCE.

They all have something in common.

Each one is of an insidious nature. Leisurely degrading the most righteous and twisting them to be dangerous, destructive, and cold individuals.

Truthfully, I’d never pondered it much—the idea of how quickly trauma can change someone—but experience alters how we as humans think about certain concepts and how we decipher particular circumstances. The brain is a complicated fucking thing.

Perhaps this is why stories are written of angels and demons. Of good versus evil. Heroes and villains.

But what if you think you know who the bad guy is and you’re wrong? What if you knew the whole story? Motives and intentions? Would it change your attitude about the person you’d always thought was the wrongdoer?

Is the villain really the villain? Is the hero really the hero? Would it not depend on who’s telling the story?

What if everyone was bad in their own way?

Humans are incredibly selfish beings. We want and we take. We turn the other cheek to horrors happening every day because they aren’t happening directly to us. We’re greedy and we’re constantly looking out for number one—ourselves.

Which is only what I was doing as I climbed the ladder.

The people standing around me are doing their best to do the same. To have some sort of status, power, or wealth so that when they enter a room, everyone pauses. They want all the attention to be on them.

I know it well. Each space I enter, I don’t have to say a word. Their heads all turn like they’re trained to do so. It’s a combination of respect, curiosity, and utter terror.

As I glance at Raven beside me, she’s the epitome of beauty. She’s held the attention of every man and most women in here and she doesn’t appear to have any clue about it.

Good thing she’s all mine.

Raven is wearing an exquisite black gown with a massive skirt. It’s sleeveless, with a high collar that wraps delicately around her neck. The mouthwatering part of it is that there’s a slit down the middle of the bust of it—the shape of an eye, if it were twisted vertically—exposing the sides of her breasts in the most elegant, yet sensual way I think I’ve ever been lucky enough to witness.

As she sits beside me, finishing her dinner, memories of past galas flood my mind. Of Raven in a dress with a thigh-high slit. Of me, discreetly pulling the table cloth over her lap, urging her legs apart and finger fucking her while nobody was the wiser.

Leaning over to close the space between us, I place one hand to her knee as my mouth is hot against the shell of her ear. “We should get out of here.” As I speak, my one hand grips her thigh through the skirts of her dress.

I’m done socializing with these pretentious fucks. I’m over it.

I see her chest tighten as she holds her breath, “You don’t want to dance?” She wets her lips, sipping on her vodka tonic as a distraction.

I smirk against the curve of her neck, “No, I want you naked and bent over. I want my dessert.”

To anyone else, she barely reacts. But I see the way her sinful lips curl around the edge of the glass. Feel the way she presses her thighs together, pinching my hand between them. Her heartbeat, as it begins to visibly thrum at the hollow of her throat.

She tosses the remainder of her drink down, turning in her chair to grip my jaw in her hand and brush her mouth over mine. “Good. Let’s go.” She gives me a lingering kiss—a hint of what’s coming later—and then I stand, helping her up off her chair.

As we begin to exit the gala, my hand rests on the small of her back possessively. We pass table after table until we finally make it to the main entrance of the building, heading for the elevators that will take us to the hotel room I’ve rented for the night.

Nearing the large doors on the far side, I hit the call button and we stand together. One of my hands glides low on her back, grabbing a palmful of ass, a territorial type of touch that brands Raven as mine for everyone else to see right in the lobby, in front of multiple wandering eyes.

I press her pelvis close to mine, a promise of what’s to come.

When we step in the elevator, Raven and I lean against opposite ends of the small space. After pressing the button to our floor, the doors close and we begin the ascent, never taking our eyes off one another.

My eyes trail down her body, heated—no mistake in what my gaze is conveying.

Raven brushes some of her dark hair off her shoulder, exposing the succulent hollow of her neck. When she sensually moves a leg forward, it lifts the hem of her dress, revealing part of her smooth leg and the heels that decorate her feet—black, with a gold snake that wraps delicately around her slim ankles.

I wet my lips at the sight. When we get home, I’m going to bend her over the edge of the mattress and fuck her in those heels.

“Luca—”My name is a purr on her gorgeous, red-stained lips.

I get one step towards her before the elevator dips and the doors open to reveal a man waiting to step on. He gives me a small smile when our eyes meet and I move slightly closer to Raven, putting myself between the two of them.

I observe him press the button for his floor—one above ours—and then he stands with his back towards us, watching the numbers rise as we begin to ascend once again. A flutter of unease ripples through me. Something isn’t right about this guy.

The first thing that catches my interest is his suit—there are wrinkles on the edges of the collar of his shirt. The fabric, an inexpensive cotton that he probably purchased at the local retail store, sticks out like a sore thumb.