Page 7 of Vicious Heir

They’re security camera feeds. Six boxes show different angles of the action downstairs. My god, there’s a lot of action. The images keep changing, and I realize there must be dozens of cameras capturing every single lurid detail. Some are zoomed in on specific people, and facial recognition software displays their names and known addresses in the bottom right corner. I nearly yelp when I realize one of the women fucking at least four different men is actually the head of another wealthy Main Line family. She’s friends with my grandmother and at least sixty years old. My god, she’s in good shape.

But what really shakes me is the little indicator in the left corner.

Everything is being recorded.

All the sex, all the depravity, all their faces and their identities. The masks don’t seem to be doing all that much, either. The software works despite them.

Adriano’s getting it all.

Hours and hours of material on the most prominent people in the city. All their sins, all their kinks.

There’s one rule during these special parties.

No pictures. No recording.

But Adriano’s been doing exactly that all this time.

Holy shit.

If this got out?—

Every single powerful person in the city would instantly try to destroy him.

I spot a feed in the middle right. Men are coming up the steps. They bypass the BDSM section, turn down a hall, and head straight for me.

I hurry away from the desk. My heart’s racing. The magnitude of this realization keeps lingering. Dozens of parties, hundreds of people, hours of embarrassing footage. He could blackmail the entire damn city. He couldownthis town.

He honestly might already.

I adjust myself, trying to be presentable, when the door yanks open. The men appear, four of them, all wearing black outfits. The young man in charge approaches while the others remain politely behind.

“I’m sorry, miss, but Mr. Marino sends his apologies. There is a serious matter he has to deal with.”

“Oh, uh, that’s okay. I can go home.”

“You’re welcome to stay if you’d like, but Mr. Marino likely won’t be returning tonight.” He hesitates, glancing down at me. “Or we can take you wherever you need to go. My name is Luca, and I’m happy to do whatever works for you.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I can order a car.” I’m blushing like crazy and start to slip past him. “I’m just going to head back home.”

“He requests that you leave your contact details.” Luca clears his throat. I’m guessing he’s around my age, in his early twenties, and seems about as comfortable with this situation as I am. Doesn’t Adriano have a lot of women in his office? “In case he wants to reach out.”

My heart picks up again. Sweat prickles my skin. I hate lying, so I decide to go with the truth. “I’d rather not.”

Luca hesitates, surprised, but only nods. “If that’s what you want. Please, let me take you home at least.”

“No, that’s totally okay.” I have my phone out already and put in a request for an Uber Black. “I’ll be fine. Really, I promise.”

Luca doesn’t seem happy, but at least he doesn’t push. My group of guards escorts me back down through the madness. It doesn’t seem like the orgy is going to stop any time soon. If anything, it’s gotten more depraved, vigorous, and sweaty. The place stinks like a gym. For some reason, it doesn’t bother me.

I don’t know how these people are fucking so much. I’m spent and exhausted, and Adriano’s touch is seared into my skin.

Meanwhile, one woman is taking down at least six guys at once and doesn’t even seem fazed.

That’s impressive stamina.

“You’re welcome back any time.” Luca puts a black business card made from a lightweight metal into my hand. It says onlyAdriano Marinoand has a phone number. “Show that up front and they’ll let you through. Consider it a standing invitation.”

“Uh, thanks.” I turn to leave but hesitate. “Tell Adriano I said—” But what’s the point? I’ll see him soon enough. When we get married. “Never mind.” I hurry out into the night, feeling like I just made an enormous mistake but not caring in the slightest right now.

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