Page 97 of Broken Honor

I watch her leave. But all I see is the way Lunetta had trembled when I’d held her. The way her lips had parted beneath mine like she didn’t understand what was happening to her—or why she wanted more.

Bugatti looks at me and he nods. I stand and follow him to a velvet curtain. He opens it and I walk past first into the darkness. He walks in and closes the velvet curtain behind us, sealing off the pounding music and pulsing lights of the club’s VIP section. We walk through a narrow hallway, the walls soundproofed and bathed in dull red light. At the end, he opens a door and leads me into a room that smells like blood.

Inside, a man is slumped on the floor, nose swollen and crusted in red, a trickle of blood sliding past his jaw. His hands are zip-tied behind his back. He shifts when we enter, trying to look tough. Bugatti’s men line the room.

“His name’s Gold,” Bugatti says, gesturing. “Lapo’s right hand. Watches his back. Does his dirty work. Took a little convincing, but we got him here.”

Gold lifts his chin, lips curling into a snarl. “Took three of your men and a damn taser, but here I am.”

I drag a chair forward and sit down, resting my elbows on my knees. My fingers lace together as I stare at him.

He spits blood to the side, barely missing my shoe. “Go fuck yourself.”

My smile spreads slowly.

Then I stand. Gold blinks.

Before he can speak again, I step forward, grip his head, and slam it into the concrete wall.

The sound is sickening.

He crumples onto his side, groaning, blood pouring freely from his forehead now. One of Bugatti’s men steps forward, but I wave him off and return to my seat, brushing dust from my knuckles.

Gold rolls onto his back, moaning. I stare, my face calm, He coughs, turns, and slumps back to a seated position, cradling his head. “You’re fucking insane,” he mutters.

I tilt my head.

He groans. “The idiot's a liar. Whatever he said.”

“Then who’s feeding him? He looked well off, talked about retiring even,” I ask flatly.

He shakes his head. “No one.”

I lean back and let out a low breath, my voice dipping. “I’ll cut to the chase, Gold. Someone stole my diamonds. My gold. Stolen from the blood of my father, and his father before him. Generational wealth. Gone.” I glance at Bugatti. “Our wealth.”

Bugatti’s nod is faint.

Gold exhales through his nose, shoulders sagging. “Are you going to kill me?”

I grin. “No. That’s not on the table.” I lean forward, voice lower now. “But I can make you wish for death. I can make you cry for it.”

“I know nothing,” he says finally. “I swear. Lapo only uses me for muscle. He doesn’t trust me with business.”

I watch his eyes.

Gold’s lips twitch into something between confusion and disgust. “He’s been bragging about some fish farm investments—small ones, local. He says they’re lucrative. Talks like he’s pulling gold from gills. But I swear to you, I wouldn’t risk my life to protect that kind of stupidity.”

I watch him a moment longer. Nothing in his posture changes. He’s telling the truth—or close enough.

I beckon Bugatti.

He leans in, and I speak just above a whisper. “He’s clean. But rough him up a little. See if he leaks anything else. Then let him go. Alive.”

Bugatti nods once, sharp and smooth.

I stand, brushing the dust from my slacks and rolling my sleeves back down. One of Bugatti’s men opens the door for me, follows me out as I walk out without looking back.

The music grows louder as I step back into the lounge beyond the curtains. I walk past the club and I glance to see Donna, leaning into a man in a crisp suit, nails dragging down his chest, lips parted in a seductive whisper. Our eyes meet and she smiles at me across the distance, a honeyed grin.

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