Voyeur by Candace Wondrak
Chapter Eight – Roman
There was something to be said of how a nice, long, hot shower could make you feel. The steam helped your skin, the water washed off all the grime, and the privacy of the room let you relax and let everything go.
And showers were quite necessary after the days I had. No better way to wash the blood off you.
My chest rose and fell, my chin to my chest and my hands flat on the tiled wall beneath the showerhead. I had the heat turned up as hot as it would go, the water pelting my head, coursing down my neck and shoulders. It fell to the floor of the shower, swirling around the drain before disappearing.
Tonight the water ran red. It had been a busy day.
Fingers stretched flat against the tile, attached to hands that created so much havoc, spilled so much blood. I did what I had to, did what I could to protect our interests. There were always people who thought they could use us or get the better of us, but those people found out just how wrong they were to think that way.
The Russo name might not mean what it used to, we might be a dying breed, but I would not go out of this world without a fight, and I owed my allegiance to one family. The Lucianos.
When the water ran clear, when my body was clean, I turned off the water and stepped out. I grabbed a towel, running it over my hair and drying off quickly. In the mirror, my reflection mirrored what I was: a scarred, lean machine made for enforcing the rules and reminding those who thought they were above them. I really did hate the word assassin, because what I did wasn’t always in the shadows or in the darkness, where no one knew I was there.
The ones I went after were always aware of my presence before I killed them. I made sure they realized their mistakes before they breathed their last breaths, and I always left a message behind, warning others not to make the same mistake.
I dropped the towel onto the sink and left the bathroom, heading straight into my room. A large, expansive space filled with hand-crafted wooden furniture. Sleek and modern, everything in my home was new. Some people liked the old, but I was all for new when it came to objects.
Zoey… she was new. I doubted her newness would wear off for a while yet, and when it did—when it did we would figure out what to do. Right now, as it was, I couldn’t ever imagine myself letting her walk away, letting her recant her admission that she was mine.
She was mine, and I would relish every single moment I had to remind her of that fact.
Zoey had gotten my gifts. I’d also heard something very interesting about her neighbor, something I could not sit back and ignore. No, from now on I’d have Carter watch her when I didn’t need him. That, or I’d force her to be here, like I was tonight.
She wasn’t working at the Dollhouse. It was Friday night, and she had nothing but time, so I’d sent Carter to her place to fetch her, to bring her here. She and I had to have a little chat, it seemed, for she did not quite comprehend what it meant to belong to me.
I stood before my dresser, stark naked, taking my time in choosing what I would wear. A knock pounded on my door, and I left the dresser to find Carter standing just outside in the hall. He held his hands behind his back, his nose upturned. “Well?” I asked, unable to know by his expression whether or not he was successful in bringing her here. If I had to guess, Zoey put up a fight.
My girl was not the easiest one around.
“She’s waiting for you,” Carter spoke, his green eyes never once dropping below my bare chest. “She was not thrilled to be summoned.”
I smirked. “I bet she wasn’t. Did you have to drag her kicking and screaming?” What a sight that would’ve been, I bet.
“Almost,” Carter spoke. “I’ll go watch her, until you’re ready for her.” He bowed his head to me before turning and heading away.
Within five minutes, I was dressed in a clean black suit, my damp hair slicked back. I knew I looked good, and I knew with one glance from me, Zoey would melt like she had before. Tonight was about making her realize what she had, who she belonged to, and the limits of my patience.
I was not a very patient man.
Carter had Zoey waiting in the front. She wore a loose t-shirt, along with leggings that hugged her legs so tightly they left nothing for the imagination. I bet she wore no underwear beneath them. And those damned pink shoes. She wandered around, studying the lobby of my home as if she’d never been in a place so nice.
She had. She came from Hillcrest, and from looking into it and her family, she came from wealth. Maybe not as much wealth as I had at my disposal, but she was not poor. She was not destitute; she simply left all she could behind when she ran because of her sister’s and boyfriend’s betrayal.
Carter stood off to the side, his arms crossed. The moment I walked in, he did not notice me right away, his gaze lingering on her. He was never a man to show his emotions on his face, never one to admit his feelings to anyone, especially himself. I knew he would die for me and do it gladly, but he would never say so out loud to me; it was fine. Some things were better left unsaid.
Zoey was the one who noticed me first, and when she did, Carter turned his head to me, too. Both their eyes were on me, and I gestured for Carter to leave us, which he did—albeit begrudgingly. I knew him well enough to know he hoped for a little punishment that would involve his dick.
As Carter left, I walked to Zoey’s side, offering her my arm. “Come,” I said, “you and I need to discuss a few things.”
Her full lips puckered, but she said nothing as she slipped her hand through my arm and let me lead her through my home. I took her to my office, where the walls were painted dark and the lighting was dim. No windows, only a lone desk, along with a small sofa near the bookcases. I didn’t spend much time here, but every man should have his own office.
I sat Zoey on the couch, saying nothing for a while as I went to lean my backside on the outer edge of my desk. I met her questioning eyes, holding her stare for the longest while. She was smart enough to know why she was here, and yet I knew I would have to spell it out for her.
Let’s start slowly.
“How did you like your new furnishings?” I questioned, my lips barely moving with the words. It took everything in me to do this slowly, to not jump to the chase immediately.
“It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” Her expression read that she wasn’t impressed; coming from Hillcrest, I supposed material belongings wouldn’t impress her, but I’d be damned if she lived in that hole without an actual mattress. “Plus, I don’t remember ever telling you where I lived.”
“You didn’t need to,” I told her, unashamed of what I’d done. I’d done a lot worse in my life than buy a beautiful girl some new furniture. “I know everything there is to know about you, Zoey. There is nothing in your life you can hide from me, not anymore.”
That should’ve been all she needed to hear to know what this abrupt meeting was about.
When she said nothing, I pushed off my desk, moving to where she sat. I leaned down over her, holding my hands on the back of the sofa, watching as she reclined back to let me tower over her, hovering, watching, waiting. Her lips parted, the blue in her gaze glazing over immediately.
Oh, I had power over her, that much was obvious. It was intoxicating.
“You’re mine, Zoey Marbella, don’t you ever forget that,” I whispered, feeling the blood pumping faster in my body.
“I never agreed to you controlling every aspect of my life,” she started, but the moment I smirked, she stopped.
I leaned down to her, pressing the side of my cheek against her forehead, feeling her cool skin against mine, whispering into her ear, “When you’re mine, you’re mine. Every single part of you is mine. What you do in your spare time, what you dream about, what you think about—all of it pertains to me, because you belong to me now. Do you understand that, Zoey?”
She gulped, squirming on the leather sofa beneath my towering frame. “And if I say no? That I change my mind and I don’t want to be yours?”
Moving my face away from hers, I stared at her so hard she might just self-combust. “That is not something you get to recant. You’re mine now whether you want to be or not, and if you run, I will find you. I will hunt you to the ends of the earth if I have to—do not mistake my desire for you as a weakness.”
Zoey looked like she wanted to argue, to be her usual defiant self, so my hand found her neck the next moment, gripping it hard enough to stifle the air from her lungs just a bit. Just enough to stop her from saying anything stupid.
The pleasure I gave almost always went hand-in-hand with pain.
As I held onto her neck, I hissed, “You understand that means your body is not your own.” Using my other hand, I trailed fingers down her face, past her tits, feeling her trembling with yearning under me. “This,” I whispered, cupping the space between her thighs, rubbing her slit through her leggings and making her practically mewl, “is mine. Mine to touch, mine to taste, mine to give.”
Zoey said nothing, but I knew the way her body reacted to my touch, she could not deny anything I said.
“I know all about your neighbor,” I spat, frowning at her. “Seems like a nice guy.” I increased the pressure I applied to her between her thighs, pushing my palm against her harder, feeling her clit through her leggings. The hand holding her neck loosened, though I did not release it entirely. “I would hate to see him lying in a ditch somewhere, bleeding out as cars drove by, unaware he was dying. Wouldn’t you?”
Though I had the upper hand here, though Zoey had no leg to stand on in this conversation, she still managed to say, “Don’t threaten him—” Awfully protective of her neighbor, when she was supposed to be mine and mine alone.
Baring my teeth at her, I growled out, “You don’t get to tell me what to do. That honor is mine. You will not see Lake again—you will not invite him into your apartment ever again, do you understand?” I withdrew myself from her, walking back to my desk. “I’ll be having Carter watch over you on the days I don’t need him, just to make sure you’re behaving.” I shot her a glare. I had the feeling she’d be a wild one, and she was constantly proving me right.
Zoey sat quietly for a while, her eyes on fire as she watched me. Her cheeks were pink, my prior closeness to her having caused her body to react in a certain way. Suddenly she stood up, jerking to her feet as she held her hands on her hips, giving me the most attitude she could muster. She walked before me, her feet drawing her closer almost too insolently.
She stopped when she stood before me, her full, inviting lips turning down in a frown. “I wasn’t aware this was a master-slave scenario,” she said, glowering. The expression didn’t sit well on her face, but I let her have her time. Soon enough she would learn that I meant every single word I said; Roman Russo did not make needless threats. “Maybe you should’ve been clearer about that in the beginning. I’m not an object you can own.”
I waited until she was done, listened to her feisty words, feeling a smile start to creep along my face. There was a time and place for that, and here and now was not it. “Shall I fetch Carter and remind you that you belong to me in every way? The sooner you realize this, the more enjoyable it will be for you.”
Zoey said nothing, though she did jut out her chin as if daring me to bring Carter in here.
“You should know I am not above mixing pain with pleasure,” I spoke, stepping towards her, reaching for her face. She jerked away from me, and I knew right then and there I needed to get Carter.
Never breaking eye contact with her, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone, dialing Carter’s number. He picked up on the second ring; I knew he probably was waiting for me to call him, to tell him I needed him in here to help tame the girl.
“Come to my office,” I ordered, grinding my teeth as I gazed upon Zoey and her boldness. Being bold, being disobedient did not automatically make you strong. This was not a situation where traits like that were welcome; the sooner she realized she was mine, we could all move on from this.
I said nothing more, hanging up.
Zoey folded her arms across her chest, and I pushed off my desk, walking around to the door, the only way in or out of my office. She wouldn’t try to run; Zoey might play like she was courageous and resistant to me, but deep down, she wasn’t. It was all a show, a farce, a charade she put on… but for whose benefit? For her own, to prove to herself that she didn’t need a man in her life after her previous ex had fucked her over?
I was unlike her ex in every single way; I would never fuck her over—not unless she asked for it.
No, right now this was a battle of wills, and mine would emerge victorious. I would be the winner here, not Zoey.
Carter wasn’t far from the office, for within a minute, he strode inside, stopping as he stood beside me, his green eyes landing on Zoey. “Is something wrong?” he asked, an edge to his words I detected immediately.
“Yes,” I said. “Zoey here believes she can walk away from me, from you, from all of this.” I ran a hand down the front of my suit, tilting my head at her, watching how she watched me, trying to hide the emotion on her face. Poor Zoey was an open book; it wasn’t difficult to see how much she wanted to be put in her place.
The man beside me would happily oblige her.
Beside me, Carter chuckled darkly. “The only time anyone walks away from Roman,” he spoke to her, “is if he lets them. You won’t be so lucky.” Such finality to his words, such harsh truths, Zoey could do nothing but blink in response.
Oh, no. With how much I’d instantly wanted her, there would be no walking away from this, that much we all knew. This was not me following a flitting fancy; this was me greedily claiming what was mine. Zoey Marbella was mine, and she needed to open those pretty blue eyes and realize it.
“She needs a reminder,” I told him, and he nodded.
Carter strode before Zoey, a bit cocky, but that was just Carter. He’d always been a cocky son of a bitch, even when he was a kid. It’s part of the reason why he and I clicked so well, I think. I took him under my wing, showed him the ins and outs of the business, and I let him have his fun, as long as I got to watch. As the years went on, though, it became something more. Carter was a good friend to me, a business associate and a loyal companion. I was grateful that I’d taken a chance on him all those years ago.
“You know what I think?” Carter spoke, studying Zoey’s stance, how her gaze twinkled with fire. “I think you like being put down, reminded of where your place is.” He moved around her, standing behind her, one of his arms snaking around her torso and pinning her arms to her sides. “I think you like it when Roman takes charge of you—” He leaned his head down, his nose brushing against her pink hair as he finished, “When he makes me touch you.”
Zoey puckered her lips, but she did not struggle against his grip. She appeared so small with her back against his chest, her head resting on his upper pectorals, like she belonged there. Like this was just another day in the game we played.
Smirking, Carter whispered, “Are you going to lie and deny it?” His other arm went up to her hair, pulling her head to the side, exposing her neck to him. He lowered his face to the crook of her exposed neck, running his tongue along a tender spot and causing her to shiver against him.
She was silent, though her eyes remained on me.
“Take her on my desk,” I said.
And he did.
Carter spun them both, forced her down onto my desk, her top half bent over the wood. He ran a hand along the curve of her ass, its roundness inviting and free of any panty-lines under the tight leggings. His hand followed the curve of her ass, between her cheeks, slowly drawing up and around her. I knew his touch wasn’t gentle, and I heard Zoey gasp when he found what he was looking for between her legs. Probably her clit, and I’d bet any money he pinched it.
The moment he tugged down her leggings enough to bare her ass, I made myself at home on the small sofa, crossing my legs as I felt the blood start to gather in my groin. Carter once again touched her, but this time there was no fabric hindering his movements. This time, I heard him growl out, “Wet already.”
That much didn’t surprise me. I knew Zoey was a masochist when it came to puffing herself up and trying to deny the way she felt about me, about her agreement with me. The girl certainly did enjoy being put in her place, being reminded that she had no choice in this. She might fight, but she wanted this just as much as I did.
She liked being taken. She liked being used. Zoey Marbella was a naughty girl, and she was all mine. Mine to use, mine to take, mine to share, should I so choose. I trusted Carter; he would never cross the line when it came to her, even if he was alone with her, away from me. He was, perhaps, the only person alive I trusted so much.
Carter slapped her ass once before reaching to undo his belt. His cock was already rock-hard; it could go from a limp noodle to hard steel in a matter of seconds, something truly astounding. His pants dropped to his ankles, and he fisted himself once before pushing in—and when he did push his cock into her, the sound she let out was a cry for the ages. A symphony to my soul.
He fucked her against my desk, and he fucked her hard. It was exactly what I liked to watch, what I liked to hear. Zoey was such perfection, it was almost impossible to believe fate brought her here, to me.
Fate had fucked her over first, with her boyfriend fucking her baby sister and causing her to leave all she’d ever known. Fate was a cruel master, but sometimes its cruelty paid off. Every now and then things ended up so perfectly you truly couldn’t ask for anything more.
That’s how I felt right now, watching Carter take her against my desk, knowing his thick cock was inside her, causing her to cry out and grunt with every powerful thrust of his hips. Fate had plucked Zoey from her old life, hand-delivering her to me at the Dollhouse. What I’d thought would be just another night had become something else entirely, something I still played back in my head sometimes.
Carter had Crystal on her knees, his dick shoved down her throat. Zoey had peeked her head in, unaware of what was going on—or maybe she did know, and she simply wanted to watch. Either way, she’d made an impression on me, and as I went home that night, I couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting inside me, the desire that filled me when I pictured the pink-haired girl at the club.
I’d known from that first encounter she was different, saw the vacancy in her eyes, how she practically screamed, begged for someone to make her feel alive again. I would gladly become that man for her. Carter and I would make her feel alive again, make her realize there were still some things left that were worth living for.
My desk shook with the force of Carter’s thrusting, the cries leaving Zoey’s chest ones of pleasure. She tried to hold onto the desk, to brace herself, but there was little she could do besides take his cock and milk it.
This, I knew, would not be the last time we’d have to teach her a lesson, remind her of where her place was. I could treat her like a princess, like a fucking queen, or I could toss her into the mud and let her crawl to my side. Really, it was up to her how we would progress from here, but either way, she would remain mine. I was not about to let this peculiar, beautiful girl go.
Later that night, after Carter had taken her home and I’d taken care of the erection pressing against my pants after watching him claim her on my desk, I sat in one of the many lounges in my home, a large flat-screen TV turned on. I sat in a leather chair, my suit jacket unbuttoned, a small glass of whiskey in my hand, resting on my knee.
I didn’t really care about watching the news; I did pay a mind to it to make sure everything I did was handled how it should be. If you had connections with the police—or if you had dirt on them—you could get them to sweep anything under the rug, including a triple homicide.
Bringing the glass to my mouth, I took a small sip.
Carter walked into the dark room, sitting in a leather seat beside mine. He bent forward, arms leaning on his knees as his eyes studied the television screen. Some days he was with me, other days I told him I could handle the job myself. Really, I only brought him when it was necessary; you didn’t bring a hammer to a job unless you needed a hammer, and I had been at this so long, I knew exactly what I’d need, when I needed it. Bringing him along when I did not need him only put him in danger.
“Zoey can certainly badmouth you,” Carter remarked, a smile creeping along his face. “It’s kind of funny, actually.”
I glanced at him, frowning. “Did you egg her on?”
He shook his head. “No, she shit-talked you well enough on her own as I drove her home. What I should’ve done was record it all, because, even though she hasn’t known you for long, she has you down pat.”
Frankly, I wasn’t sure if I should take that as an insult or not. I just kept quiet. There was something else I wanted to discuss with Carter tonight—the whole keeping an eye on Zoey bit—but I was in no rush, because I knew he wouldn’t want to.
No, watching Zoey for me would be the last thing he would want to do.
“She is feisty,” I remarked, running a finger around the rim of the glass, absentmindedly wondering what it was Zoey had said about me. Odds were anything she’d said was said in pure reckless defiance, that she didn’t mean what she’d told Carter as she bad-mouthed me. “I like her, Carter. I like her a lot.” A more emotional statement I didn’t think I’d ever spoken, not lately.
He harrumphed. “I know, boss. I know.”
Silence overtook us, the television volume the only thing filling the room for the next few moments. Eventually, I heaved a sigh. “What do you think about her?” I didn’t care whether or not he didn’t like her; his opinion of her wouldn’t change how I felt. That said, it would be easier, I think, if he liked her too. If he could get over himself and, for once, allow himself to feel something for someone else.
Some men, when they did what I did, chose to shut off their emotions. They believed their emotions made them weak, created a flaw for their enemies to take advantage of. I suppose that could be true, but if you were professional and kept your work life and personal life separate—if you instilled enough fear into your enemies, emotions were not a bad thing at all.
Emotions made you stronger; I was a firm believer of that. Carter, however, was unaccustomed to it.
“I think she’s a handful,” Carter spoke, choosing his words carefully. His emerald eyes twinkled in the darkness of the room, flitting between me and the screen hanging on the wall. He’d unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt, his clavicle moving with each breath he took. “I think she’s going to be trouble for you, and therefore for me.”
Glaring, I said, “I didn’t ask you about her. I asked what you thought of her. Don’t try to mince words with me, Carter.”
“She’s pretty enough, even with that fucking pink hair,” he grumbled. “Her cunt is—” He stopped that train of thought the moment my glare intensified into a sheer scowl; I probably looked like I wanted to lunge off my chair and strangle him. “I like her well enough, okay? You know I don’t do that shit.”
I don’t do that shit, translating to: I don’t let myself feel for any of the women I fuck. I use their bodies, and that’s it. No needless complications.
Hmm. What could I say? I guess I liked things complicated. I liked the uncertainty Zoey brought into my life, how wild she acted, how she crumbled when pushed. I was addicted to her in every possible way, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Well, whether you do that shit or not,” I told him, “I am going to have you keep an eye on her. She’s obstinate enough to try doing something I explicitly told her not to, so you’ll be my enforcer when I don’t need you by my side.”
Carter’s mouth twitched, and he tried to hold back a frown. The man didn’t last long, though. “You’re making me watch her?” When I nodded, he leaned his head back, a groan escaping his wide chest as he stared at the ceiling, not bothering to hide how annoyed he was. “Great. Babysitting. My most favorite fucking thing in the whole world.”
“You better take the job seriously,” I told him. “If she does something, if something happens to her—it’ll be all on your head.”
He sat up, meeting my gaze. “My head? Oh, come on—”
“I mean it,” I said. “I want no harm to come to Zoey, and I want her to stay away from that neighbor of hers.”
Carter rubbed his hands together, an idea forming in his head. I could tell just by the mischievous smirk that grew on his lips. “Why don’t I just get rid of her neighbor now? Avoid all that trouble—”
“No,” I cut in. “Not yet. I want to see what she does.”
Waiting for her to mess up, to go against what I’d told her, might be considered manipulative, but I didn’t care. You didn’t get to where I was today without becoming calculating to a certain extent.
We would wait and see what Zoey would do, if she would cross the line with her neighbor or heed my words, take them to heart.
