Chapter 117

**Hadassah POV**

“Now this is a surprise,” I say, glancing at Acheson with a flicker of recognition in her eyes.
“Armend operates independently, but he works for me,” Tommaso says in a moment of discarded tenderness. “Something Torin either didn’t know or wanted to exploit.”
I lift an honest hand. “All I know is that Torin wanted to help facilitate an agreement, and broker an alliance between Armend and Gojak. If he works for you, then whatever benefits Armend, also benefits you, no?”
Tommaso strollers closer, danger in every daring advance. “What I know is that Torin is a sly motherfucker. I can bet that he knew Armend works under me, which is why he sent you. He knows that from a brief time together, I took a quick liking to you.”
I place a flattered hand on my chest, sending him a sweet smile. “If he did. He would’ve told me—Torin tells me everything,” I say, crushing the blooming doubt. “I know he meant no disrespect.”
“I need assurances,” he says with dark intent laced around his words before tipping his head back towards the closed doors of the office. “I want you to persuade me that Torin is not the traitorous, self-serving cunt I believe him to be.”
I surrender a stiff nod before I move forward and Acheson follows.
Tommaso holds a halting hand towards her. “Alone.”
“Of course,” Balian agrees quickly before coming up behind her to grab her hips to press her ass into his front, and Acheson’s eyes clamp shut for a heated moment. “We can keep each other busy whilst you two talk business.”
The men share a disgusting and vile grin. I turn away as I strut towards the doors, bracing myself as I attune myself to a singular point of focus in my mind. They teach you all about breathing methods to mitigate anxiety attacks but in high-stake stress situations like this. All those teachings don’t do jack when panic and fear furies inside, scattering your senses so all you feel is insurmountable dread. My hands open the double doors with a dramatic flair. Inside, the decor shifts to even greater extravagance. A large, intricately carved desk of dark mahogany dominates the room, paired with a plush, oversized chair upholstered in velvet on the other side. I glide inside and I turn away to catch a glimpse of Acheson. Her face turned away with Armend already buried in the crook of her neck. And Tommaso closes the door before he ambles towards me with solitary purpose.
“Why do you trust Torin?”
I let out a sparkling laugh. “Trust is a fallacy, a form of self-deception,” I educate. “I don’t trust him, but for now our interests align.”
“Gojak is a big mark,” he says, coming close until he towers over me even in heels. “He’s making some big moves.”
“He has big enemies.”
He latches onto me and reels me flush against him. My palms flat against the hard wall of his pecs flexed under my touch.
“And what are you?”
“An ally who hopes you choose the winning side.”
He lets out a throaty laugh, and he strokes his thumbs against my lower back, sending shudders in the wake of his touch, perils lurking beneath every idle and insatiable caress.
“I don’t trust Torin,” he says with something unchangeable in his voice like it's etched in stone. “And I don’t think I ever will.”
His hands slip up the high slits, inching closer to my—I jerk away.
“Then there’s nothing for us to talk about,” I say, uncompromisingly. “I can understand gut instinct, but you letting your own reservations, unfounded dislike, get in the way of good business? Sweetheart, I don’t work with people who are… emotional.”
I give him a rebellious look, my eyes raking over him scornfully before I brush past him. And he spins around to step on the ends of my skirt so it tears away and the latticework of lace falls to the ground, leaving me in the lingerie one piece and Tommaso savors the sight with a not-so subtle lip bite.
“You judge Torin’s behavior and yet you act like this?”
He stalks towards me. His voice is low and pulsing with heat when he says, “I never claimed to be a gentleman.”
He drops into an offensive stance, his arms tensing as he raises his veiny hands, practically daring me to try and make a move. I whip around to make a start for the door and he captures me from behind to swing me around effortlessly. I pivot to face him and the moment I do, his lips crash onto mine with overwhelming force as the sheer intensity drives me back until I’m stopped by the bulk of mahogany. Tommaso breaks away to flip around and bends me over, pinning me flat on the desk, exerting a dominant hand on my head with the side of my face pressed against the varnished surface.
“Wh–what are you doing?” I shout back as fiercely as I can.
The crackle sound of the clasps popping open answers for him. He kicks the inner part of my shoes so that my heels slide, splitting my legs wide apart so I’m splayed and exposed. He adjusts aggressively before he inserts himself from behind and the vehement penetration makes my nails dig and scrape against the surface as I grit my teeth, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing me struggle but that doesn’t thwart the throes of his passionate pumping—and my mind churns as he rides harder and harder, grunting roughly and my stubborn silence only inspires further fervor until painful groans escape and he claims each one. A teak leaks out and I spot a strange steel sculpture positioned at the verge of the desk on the far left, several paces from my head and I see another reflection other than Tommaso.
Already hunched over my rear, it’s perfect for Acheson to hook her arm around his neck. With the edge of a bloodied blade edging the column of his throat.
“I would chop it off, but it’s too small for me to find.”
Tommaso extracts himself, and the moment everything is put back in place with sloppy haste. Acheson makes a savage slash in his throat and with a gory spray of blood—he drops to the floor. I dart back and I close the lingerie suit, clipping it all back up. Acheson stares at his body with her face flecked with runny red droplets staining her pure porcelain skin.
“I killed him,” she murmurs dazedly. “Wasn’t he the head of the Italian mafia?”
“At this point, add it to the list of criminal entities that want my head.”
Her eyes flick up at me and the spell dissipates. “Are you okay?”
I test the pain by taking a few steps, and a tendril of discomfort passes through me.
“I’ll live.”
She nods and jerks her head. “We need to figure a way out of here.”
“I’m not leaving here without the others,” I say resolutely.
“Which is why we need to figure a way out of here,” she harmonizes, sending me a knowing look. “I couldn’t help Vinea and Nika—I’ll be damned if I leave any of them behind. And I thought by now the CIA would’ve had a lock on our location.”
“If anything, my experience has taught me not to rely on a man’s rescue,” I say as I make my way out of the office in nothing but the one piece lingerie suit.
From the blood on her blade that I assume she stole off Armend. I thought she killed him, but she knocked him out and the blood came from a harmless gash on his forearm.
“Units could be closing in,” she says hopefully.
“Still better to get us all out anyway. That way no one gets caught in the crossfire,” I point out. “And I would rather not be in CIA custody. We need them to thin their forces so we can make a clean escape—not get captured in the process.”
“Good thing is most of the girls are in one place,” Acheson adds thoughtfully. “The problem is the gun-carrying criminals they’re entertaining but they were likely relieved of all weaponry upon entry. But then there is the issue of the very armed security and getting out without getting shot and killed on sight.”
I think it over, trying to wring out my brain until an idea slips out.
Acheson assesses my face and I’m sure she can see the enlightenment of an epiphany lighting up my eyes.
“What?”
“At these types of parties, they’re likely carrying narcotics, right?”
“It’s not a sex party without them. Why?”
“I have an idea to neutralize the men,” I say as I walk over to Armend sprawling on the floor and I use the tip of the heels to nudge him with it until he stirs, muttering unintelligently. “And I have an idea to steer security away, but we’ll need him.”
Acheson huffs disappointedly. “Good thing I didn’t kill him then. What about the staff?”
“I have a feeling that many of them are not here by choice and will side with us when push comes to shove,” I speculate from the isolated incident I witnessed by one of their members.
“And if they don’t? And they're loyal to Armend?” she asks validly.
“Then I guess they will suffer the same fate.”