2. The Deal

CHAPTER 2

THE DEAL

Antonio's world exploded in a cacophony of shattering glass and splintering wood. Through the haze of pain clouding his vision, he caught glimpses of dark suits and flashing gunmetal. The warehouse erupted into chaos as Rizzo's men scrambled for cover.

A strong arm wrapped around Antonio's waist, hauling him upright. He stumbled, legs barely supporting his weight, as he was half-dragged towards the exit. The acrid sting of gunpowder filled his nostrils, mingling with the coppery tang of blood.

"Move, you idiot," a low voice growled in his ear. "Unless you'd like to take a bullet."

Antonio's addled brain finally caught up with the situation. He was being rescued. Or possibly kidnapped again. At this point, he wasn't sure which was worse.

They burst out into the cool night air, the sounds of the firefight fading behind them. Antonio's mysterious savior shoved him none too gently into the back of a waiting car before sliding in beside him.

As the vehicle peeled away from the curb with a squeal of tires, Antonio finally got a good look at the man who'd pulled him from the fray. His breath caught in his throat.

Damien Benedetti. The underboss of the Benedetti crime family and quite possibly the most dangerous man in Chicago.

Damien's ice-blue eyes raked over Antonio's battered form, his expression unreadable. "You look like shit, Lombardi."

Antonio barked out a laugh that quickly turned into a pained groan. "Yeah, well, not all of us can pull off the dashing rescuer look quite like you, Benedetti."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Damien's lips. "Mouthy little brat, aren't you? I can see why Rizzo wanted to beat that smart tongue right out of your pretty head."

Heat flooded Antonio's cheeks at the casual compliment. He blamed it on the adrenaline still coursing through his system. "Not that I'm not grateful for the save, but why the hell are you involved in this mess?"

Damien's gaze sharpened, pinning Antonio in place. "Let's just say I have a vested interest in keeping you alive and out of Rizzo's hands. For now, at least."

A shiver ran down Antonio's spine that had nothing to do with his injuries. There was something predatory in Damien's eyes, a hunger that both terrified and thrilled him.

"So what now?" Antonio asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "You gonna take me home to Mommy? I'm sure she'll be thrilled to add 'rescued by Benedettis' to my long list of fuck-ups."

Damien's laugh was a low, dangerous rumble. "Oh no, sweetheart. You're not going anywhere near your family. Not until we've had a chance to... discuss your current predicament."

Antonio's stomach dropped. Of course. There was always a catch.

"What kind of discussion?" he asked warily.

Damien's smile was all teeth. "The kind where I make you an offer you can't refuse."

The rest of the drive passed in tense silence. Antonio's mind raced, trying to figure out what game Damien was playing. The Benedettis and Lombardis had been locked in a cold war for years. Why would Damien risk open conflict by snatching Vivian Lombardi's son right out from under Rizzo's nose?

Finally, the car rolled to a stop outside a towering skyscraper. Antonio's breath caught as he realized where they were. Benedetti Tower. The heart of Damien's criminal empire.

"Come on, princess," Damien said, opening the door. "Time to face the music."

Antonio bristled at the nickname but bit back a retort. He was in no position to be mouthing off, no matter how much he wanted to wipe that smug smirk off Damien's stupidly handsome face.

They rode up to the penthouse in silence, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. When the elevator doors slid open, Antonio's jaw dropped.

The space before him was the epitome of modern luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the Chicago skyline. Sleek leather furniture and gleaming chrome accents created an atmosphere of understated opulence.

"Impressed?" Damien's voice was a low purr in Antonio's ear, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.

"It'll do, I suppose," Antonio replied, aiming for nonchalance despite the way his heart raced. "Though I have to say, I expected more gold toilets and tiger-skin rugs from a mob boss."

Damien chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "I'll keep that in mind for the next remodel. Now, why don't you have a seat? We have much to discuss."

Antonio sank into one of the plush leather armchairs, wincing as his battered body protested the movement. Damien busied himself at a well-stocked bar, returning moments later with two tumblers of amber liquid.

"Drink," he ordered, pressing one into Antonio's hand. "It'll help with the pain."

Antonio took a cautious sip, the burn of expensive whiskey sliding down his throat. "So," he said, meeting Damien's piercing gaze. "What's this offer I supposedly can't refuse?"

Damien settled into the chair across from him, legs spread in a casual display of dominance that made Antonio's mouth go dry.

"It's quite simple, really," Damien said, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "I'm prepared to clear your gambling debts. All of them. In exchange, you work for me."

Antonio's eyes narrowed. "Work for you how, exactly?"

A slow, predatory smile spread across Damien's face. "Oh, nothing too taxing. Run some errands. Attend some meetings. Be a pretty decoration on my arm when needed."

He leaned forward, voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent heat pooling in Antonio's gut. "And of course, you'll need to be on call to attend to my more... personal needs."

Antonio's breath caught as the implication sank in. "You—you can't be serious. I'm not some whore you can just?—"

"Whore?" Damien's eyes flashed dangerously. "Oh no, sweetheart. You misunderstand. I'm offering you a position of privilege. My personal companion, under my protection. Do you have any idea how many would kill to be in your shoes?"

Antonio's mind reeled. This couldn't be happening. And yet... the thought of being owned by this man, controlled by him, sent a forbidden thrill through his body.

"How long?" he managed to croak out.

"Until I decide I'm satisfied," Damien replied, his gaze raking over Antonio's body in a way that left him feeling exposed. "Could be a week, could be a year. But don't worry, pet. I'll take such good care of you."

Antonio knew he should refuse. Should tell Damien to go to hell and face the consequences of his actions like a man. But as those icy blue eyes bored into him, filled with dark promise, he found his resolve wavering.

"And if I say no?" he asked, hating how breathless he sounded.

Damien's smile was cold. "Then I drop you back off at Rizzo's warehouse and wash my hands of the whole affair. I'm sure your mother will be more than happy to bail you out... assuming there's anything left of you to save."

Antonio's stomach churned. He was trapped, caught between the devil he knew and the one he didn't. But at least with Damien, he stood a chance of making it out alive.

"Alright," he whispered, the words tasting like ash on his tongue. "I'll do it."

Damien's eyes lit up with triumph. "Excellent choice, pet. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership."

He rose gracefully to his feet, extending a hand to Antonio. "Now, why don't we get you cleaned up? Can't have my new toy looking worse for wear, after all."

As Antonio took Damien's hand, allowing himself to be led towards what he assumed was the master suite, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just made a deal with the devil himself.

The bathroom was a marvel of marble and chrome, easily the size of Antonio's entire apartment. A massive walk-in shower dominated one wall, while a sunken tub big enough for a small orgy took up another corner.

"Strip," Damien ordered, his voice brooking no argument.

Antonio hesitated, suddenly self-conscious. It was ridiculous—he'd never been shy about his body before. But something about Damien's intense gaze made him feel exposed in a way he'd never experienced.

" Now , pet," Damien growled, a dangerous edge to his voice. "Or do I need to help you?"

The threat sent a shiver down Antonio's spine, equal parts fear and something he didn't want to examine too closely. With trembling hands, he began to undress, wincing as the movement pulled at his bruised ribs.

Damien's eyes never left him, drinking in every inch of revealed skin with predatory hunger. When Antonio stood naked before him, he circled slowly, appraising him like a prized stallion at auction.

"Beautiful," Damien murmured, one large hand coming to rest on the small of Antonio's back. "Even battered and bruised, you're exquisite."

Antonio's cheeks burned, caught between preening under the praise and bristling at being treated like property. "Glad I meet your exacting standards," he snarked, unable to help himself.

Damien's grip tightened, not quite painful but a clear warning. "That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble, pet. But we'll work on that."

Before Antonio could retort, Damien was guiding him into the shower. Hot water cascaded over them both, steam rising in billowing clouds. Antonio bit back a moan as the heat soothed his aching muscles.

"Let me take care of you," Damien said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. He poured some expensive-smelling body wash onto a loofah and began to clean Antonio with surprising tenderness.

Antonio's body thrummed with tension, hyperaware of every point of contact between them. Damien's hands were careful around his bruises, but there was no mistaking the possessive nature of his touch. He was marking his territory, claiming Antonio inch by inch.

"Why are you doing this?" Antonio asked, his voice barely audible over the rush of water. "Why me?"

Damien's hands stilled for a moment before resuming their ministrations. "You intrigue me," he admitted. "All that fire, that defiance... I want to see if I can tame it. Make it mine."

A shudder ran through Antonio that had nothing to do with the water temperature. "I'm not some pet project for you to play with," he protested, but the words lacked conviction.

Damien's low chuckle rumbled against Antonio's back. "Oh, but you are, pet. And I think you'll find you enjoy it far more than you expect."

As if to prove his point, one of Damien's hands slid lower, ghosting over Antonio's hip. "Already so responsive," he murmured, nipping at Antonio's earlobe. "So eager to please, aren't you?"

Antonio bit his lip, fighting back a whimper. He wouldn't give Damien the satisfaction of seeing how affected he was. But God, it had been so long since anyone had touched him like this. With purpose, with intent.

"That's enough," he managed to gasp out, stepping away from Damien's teasing hands. "I can finish up myself."

Damien allowed him to retreat, but the hungry look in his eyes made it clear this was far from over. "As you wish, pet. But don't take too long. We still have details to discuss."

He stepped out of the shower, leaving Antonio alone with his racing thoughts and uncomfortably aroused body. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

Fifteen minutes later, Antonio emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a sinfully soft robe. Damien was waiting for him in the bedroom, having changed into a fresh suit that clung to his muscular frame in all the right places.

"Come here," Damien said, patting the spot next to him on the massive bed. "Let's talk terms."

Antonio approached warily, perching on the edge of the mattress as far from Damien as he could manage. "What kind of terms?" he asked, hating how small his voice sounded.

"The terms of your submission, of course." Damien's smile was predatory. "You'll live here, in my penthouse. You'll be at my beck and call, day or night. When we're in public, you'll play the part of my devoted companion. And in private..."

He trailed off, letting the implication hang heavy in the air between them. Antonio's cheeks burned, but he forced himself to meet Damien's gaze. "And what do I get out of this arrangement, besides having my debts cleared?"

Damien's eyes glittered with amusement. "Besides the privilege of my company? Protection. Safety. The chance to reinvent yourself away from your family's suffocating influence."

He reached out, fingers trailing along Antonio's jaw. "And pleasure beyond your wildest dreams, if you're a good boy."

Antonio's breath hitched, arousal warring with indignation. "And if I'm not a good boy?" he challenged, unable to help himself.

Damien's grip tightened, just shy of painful. "Then you'll be punished, pet. Thoroughly and creatively."

The promise in those words sent a jolt of heat straight to Antonio's core. He knew he should be terrified, should be looking for any way out of this insane bargain. But some traitorous part of him was thrilled by the prospect.

"How long?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Until I'm satisfied," Damien replied. "Could be a week, could be a year. But I promise you this, pet—by the time I'm done with you, you won't want to leave."

Antonio swallowed hard, weighing his options. He was trapped, that much was clear. But maybe, just maybe, he could turn this to his advantage. Find a way to outsmart Damien at his own game.

"Alright," he said finally, squaring his shoulders. "I accept your terms."

Damien's smile was triumphant. "Excellent choice, pet. Now, let's seal the deal properly, shall we?"

Before Antonio could react, Damien's mouth was on his, hot and demanding. The kiss was brutal, all clashing teeth and dueling tongues. Antonio found himself responding instinctively, a needy whine escaping his throat as Damien's hands tangled in his hair.

When they finally broke apart, both panting for breath, Antonio's head was spinning. Damien's eyes were dark with desire, his usual icy control nowhere to be seen.

"Mine," he growled, the word seeming to reverberate through Antonio's very bones. "You're all mine now, pet. And I'm going to enjoy every inch of you."

Damien abruptly pulled away, his eyes dark and stormy. "Get some rest," he growled, voice rough with barely contained desire. "You'll need it for what I have planned."

Without another word, he stalked out of the room, leaving Antonio breathless and confused on the massive bed. The door slammed shut with a finality that made Antonio flinch.

Alone in the opulent bedroom, Antonio's mind raced. What the hell had just happened? One moment Damien had been all over him, and the next... gone. Leaving Antonio frustratingly, achingly aroused.

He tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Damien's hungry gaze, felt the phantom touch of those large, calloused hands on his skin. His body thrummed with a need he didn't want to acknowledge.

This was insane. He was practically a prisoner here, at the mercy of one of the most dangerous men in Chicago. He should be terrified, should be plotting his escape. Instead, he found himself aching for Damien's return, craving the older man's touch like a drug.

As the hours ticked by, sleep eluding him, Antonio realized with growing dread that he was in way over his head. He was playing a game he didn't fully understand, with stakes higher than he could imagine.

But as his hand drifted lower, seeking relief from the maddening ache Damien had ignited, Antonio found he didn't much care. Let the game begin. At least he'd have some fun before it all went up in flames.