Page 7 of Merciless Queen
“They are being photographed by me. Of course they are happy.”
I rolled my eyes, grabbing the tablet from the desk and skimming through the few pages that were formatted. As usual, they were eye-catching and gorgeous. It was fall wedding season, so we had florals, dresses, and venues for the fall brides. Our key feature was a woman who used her fashion to help lower-class families during the holidays. She not only created warm clothing and gave it to them for free, but she also donated a quarter of the profits to soup kitchens, donation centers, and housing. She even wanted to venture out of Chicago and help other cities.
“How are Christen’s designs photographing? They are the star of this spread.”
“The girls look fantastic.Bellissima. I have dates with two of them.”
I respected a woman who used her beauty to create a life for herself, but I loathed the men it attracted. People like Mario could trick models and promise them things for certain jobs they desired, but it only took one thing: their bodies. I glowered at Mario, and he stiffened before shooting his hands in the air.
“Consensual, of course, Caterina.”
“It’s Cat.” I closed the gap he made between us and grasped his jaw. “If you hurt those girls or promise them something without fulfilling your bargain, my father will need to hire a new photographer.”
His Adam's apple bobbed, and I let go of his jaw, pushing him back. The room was tense, but everyone knew who Caterina Moretti was. Including the shit I refused to tolerate. From the illegal businesses to the legit ones, I refused to let men think they had the power. My father taught me young to never take a man's disrespect. If I had an issue with one, I brought them to their knees.
Men thought with the wrong head when they saw beautiful women, and then they’d turn around and blame their beauty for their reaction. I could admire a beautiful woman and all her attributes without becoming unhinged over one. If women came together, we could rule the world, but men were such fragile creatures.
“I will expect the full spread when it is done. Until then, don’t call me.”
Spencer landed a punch to my jaw, sending ripples of pain down my spine, but I pivoted, dodging the next one she threw. Her horrid stance would disappoint Natalya, who had worked hard to train us. I spun, kicking my leg out and hitting her shin, causing her to fall on her back with a hard thud.
Spencer was one of the best people I knew. She was the lead bartender at my club, a helping hand with mafia business, and one of my closest friends—even if I refused to admit it to her. The praise would boost her ego, and she would be a menace. She could handle a knife better than anyone else I knew, and she might’ve seemed innocent with her pink and black hair, but shewas brutal. I'd seen her stab men in the thigh for even cat-calling her.
I straddled her hips, grasping her wrists and pinning her down. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes dilated, which instantly made me pull back. Spencer smirked, flipping us and pinning me under her with a sly grin spread across her lips.
“You know how easy it would be for me to fuck you?” she purred huskily, brushing her fingers down my face.
I glared at her, and she laughed before pulling herself off of me. This back and forth was foreplay, although we would never sleep together. Spencer was a domme, and although I was not in the community per se, I was dominant with my women. If Spencer and I ever thought of crossing that line, it would cause my house to explode. Two dominating energies were not how I liked things. Besides, we would spend too much time fighting over who was on top.
“No.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun.”
“Do you know if Luca or Malachi have found anything about this woman?”
Spencer stretched her arms, popping her shoulders. “Would you be mad if I told you we have a man in the basement I’ve been playing with?”
I glared daggers at her. “How long has he been here? And why the fuck didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I wanted to have my fun with him first,” she whined like a child. “It’s no fun when you leave me the scraps.”
“Did you at least get information out of him before you tormented him?”
“I just wanted to watch him bleed. But he’s still alive, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
I ripped my fingerless gloves off, throwing them in the center of the room. “One day, I am going to kill you.”
That day might be today.
She took my fun away from torturing this piece of shit, but I guess I should’ve thanked her. He was going to confess like a sinner in church. Admiring the work she did, I circled him like a lioness, smirking at the way his body tensed. His body trembled with sobs as blood continued to drip from his wounds. Spencer took four of his fingers—two from each hand, ripped the nails from his toes and remaining fingers, pulled all his teeth, and carved shapes in his skin. He still had pants on, so I didn’t think she went ‘Penis Picasso’ on him…yet.
“This can go one way, or I can have Spencer in here to mutilate your cock. Take your pick.”
“P-Please d-don’t let h-her ne-near me,” he stuttered, tugging at his restraints.
I pulled out my knife, twirling it around between my fingers. “Who is the girl Vincenzo Mancini is marrying?”
He trembled with overwhelming fear, his entire body quivering as terror coursed through him. I could see the tension in his muscles and the pain etched into his face. He took each breath in ragged, shallow gasps. It was annoying. I needed fucking answers. My fist curled into his shaggy hair, yanking his head back.
