Addicted 2 Moni

Diamond in the Dungeon

Anthony POV

<Still 2 weeks ago — Same Day>

When I step into the room, I'm hit with dim lighting, low trap bass vibrating through the walls, and the thick scent of sex and perfume lingering in the air. It's the kind of atmosphere that lets men forget who they really are—judges, officers, execs—dripping in power and shame. My empire.

The space is clean but filthy in every other way. On the left: a sleek bar and card tables. Straight ahead: velvet couches and silk-sheeted beds, already occupied by my crew and their latest distractions. To the right, private rooms for the high-paying ghosts who like their dirt hidden. This isn't just pleasure—it's business.

I walk in slow, calm, and unreadable. Boss energy. I catch sight of two of my men on one of the open beds, both taking turns on some blue-haired thing, who's moaning like it's her last breath. I don't stop them—I built this for them too.

"Daddy, you don't come play with us no more," a soft brown-skinned thing purrs, stepping into my path. She's followed by two more, each of them half-dressed, rubbing all over me like I'm the prize in a strip club raffle.

I smirk, letting one of them palm me through my jeans.

"Ladies," I chuckle, "I'm a busy man."

"Busy ain't no excuse," one of them whines, trailing kisses along my jaw. Another's lips find my chest.

"I'ma fuck with y'all later," I say, peeling them off gently—but not before adjusting my hard-on in my jeans.

My eyes flick to the right where a fresh line of recruits waits—nervous, stiff, dressed like they're ready for a photo shoot and a fight. They know what this is. This ain't the beauty pageant—they're standing in front of a monster.

I stroll past each one, face unreadable, eyes cold. Some flinch, others won't make eye contact. Then I stop.

She's 5'5. Light-skinned. Thick in all the right places. Leather jeans gripping her hips like they were painted on. She doesn't look down. Nah—she meets my gaze dead on, thick lashes and dimple piercings showing with a dangerous little grin.

She don't scare easy.

"What's your name?" I ask, tone low.

"Diamond," she says. Raspy voice. Sultry. Confident like she's been in rooms with killers and made it out with blood on her heels.

I bite the inside of my cheek, then pull a necklace from my pocket—my insignia. The one that marks my favorites. I lean in close, her breath hitching when I brush her collarbone.

I clasp it around her neck and press my lips to her throat, slow and just enough to let her feel it.

"Medical?" I ask, not breaking my gaze.

"All clean," my guy says.

"Good. Get them dressed in something suitable. Put 'em to work."

Diamond looks over her shoulder at me before walking off, and something stirs low in my gut. Fuck.

I'm back in my office, screens glowing like portals to all my power. On one, Solomon's lying naked, still defiant even in chains. I flip through more feeds. Her father's slumped in a corner like his bones forgot how to carry him. Her mother curled into herself, hand pressed to her stomach like that baby gonna save her.

Then there's Caleb. That boy got fight in him. I respect it. Don't mean I'll spare him.

I zoom in on his cell feed. One of my girls—shit, I should've rotated her out—is patching up his busted lip. She touches his cheek. He leans into it.

Well, well...

She going soft. And he soaking that shit up.

I lean back, lips curling into a slow grin. That ain't weakness—that's leverage.

I hit the intercom.

"Boss?"

My guy pokes his head in.

"In about an hour, send Diamond to my room."

He nods.

"Aye, Tinman," I call again.

He pauses. "Boss?"

"You get first pick of the new girls," I say, making my way to the private elevator hidden behind my bookcase. Only I have access.

This empire is mine. Every floor, every girl, every dollar, every scream. And Diamond? She just became my next obsession.