Page 57 of Torn Souls

Then there are the sounds.

So many moans and groans. I’m pretty sure I can even hear ascream in the distance. Every sound is punctuated by grunts and slapping of skin.

It’s a cacophony, one I don’t know whether I should ignore or revel in.

I’ve never been to a place like this before and I’m not sure if I ever want to be again.

Honestly, I was expecting more things to be happening behind closed doors. But that’s not the case here. It’s like an assault, a tease, a temptation, of the flesh.

Keeping my eyes trained on Romeo’s back instead of taking in everything going on around me is proving to be more difficult with every step. Not only am I a little bit curious about what is going on, but I’m jealous.

Since I’m not looking around, I have no idea if my men are checking out what is going on around us or if they’re ignoring it. The thought of them watching other women come has me clenching my fists and then shaking them out to try and find even a shred of control to hold onto.

It’s not easy.

The moment we’re led into the VIP section, it feels like I can breathe a little easier. But I’m certainly still on edge since it’s not a completely private area.

When Romeo moves to the side, I’m able to see a man sitting at a table like he owns the world. He has broad shoulders which are encased in a clearly expensive suit and his black hair is slicked back and styled perfectly.

His eyes light up when he sees me and he stands immediately. “Good evening,” he greets me before his eyes slide over to Kirill, “I appreciate you coming in and meeting with me.” His lips curlinto a sly smile as his eyes find me again. “I’m glad you brought the woman who is at the center of all the whispers hitting my ears at the moment.”

Maxim steps around Kirill and pulls a chair out for me. When I slide into it, he pushes it a little closer to the table, but not all the way under it. It makes me wonder if he thinks I’ll have to make a hasty retreat. Am I not safe here?

I feel safe.

But that may just be because I’m surrounded by my men. I know, without a doubt, they’ll make sure nothing happens to me.

As my men settle around me, I can feel the threat they pose. I wrap that feeling around me and let it settle my heart.

“Oaklynn,” Kirill’s voice borders on cold, but I know it’s more for the man across the table from us than for me, “this is Angelo Amato.”

I give a slight nod of my head, but I don’t offer him my hand. With the way my men are on edge, I don’t think touching another man would go over very well right now. Not when we’re on his turf, and not our own.

Angelo leans back in his chair as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. How is it that men who hold so much power can do so effortlessly?

“I can see that at least some of the rumors are true,” Angelo muses, his eyes taking me in.

While I’ve been looked at with leering eyes before, Angelo’s are just assessing. He’s taking my measure to find out if I’m worthy. I don’t move or buckle under the weight of his gaze. There’s no way I will embarrass my men in that way.

“Why are we meeting here, Angelo?” Kirill sounds downright bored.

When I glance at Maxim and Huck out of the corner of my eye, since they’re the ones who could have a view of what is happening outside of the VIP area. Their focus is on Angelo, completely ignoring everything else.

That settles something inside my chest. As if sensing my uncertainty, Kirill reaches over and rests his hand on my thigh, grounding me in the moment and making me feel settled even in this situation.

Angelo smirks and looks beyond us into the main room of Second Circle. “This is a space to be seen and not heard. From what I’ve been told, you want to be seen. Especially with your woman in order to make a proper claim.”

“What have you been hearing?” The question is gritted out between Kirill’s teeth.

His control is fraying. I can practically taste it in the air. Then there’s the way his fingers tighten on my thigh, as if that touch is enough to ground him as well.

I can only hope it is.

“Little whispers,” Angelo murmurs before he flashes a wide smile. He leans forward over the table, his strong forearms resting there and his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone as if he’s telling us his secrets. “I heard that you’ve brought a rat’s daughter into your home.”

Even though it takes effort, I keep my face neutral. Angelo is watching me closely, looking for cracks. I’m not going to give him any.

“My father is scum,” I state it like its fact, my tone holding zero emotion, only cold indifference.

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