Serina Accardi had everything, and wanted for nothing. Her brother gave her whatever she desired, but kept the parts of her destined world out of her reach.
Until she lost everything in one night to a man who's eyes looks like the devils wrath.
Th...
There's no emotion strong enough to describe the way I need you. Because baby I'm drowning without you.
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Serina POV
Not even the bottle of scotch could make me forget. Because there was no forgetting him. He was in my blood, he was in my bones, carved into my soul.
I never liked scotch. The liquor was never enjoyable to me before, but what does that matter now? What does it matter what is good or not. I didn't like scotch, but Lorenzo did. I remember the way it tasted on his lips, and how he tasted like comfort, like mine.
The scotch coated my throat and caused a buzz in my head. The buzz distracted me. It kept the void of darkness caving in from crushing my chest fully, kept me from thinking of everything I have lost and everything that has been ripped away from me.
I bristled when I felt the glare of watchful eyes on my skin, observing and calculating, and I sat up straighter in the booth as I noticed how many more men have joined us since I last had payed attention to the conversation
Hollow and dead eyes from Satan's men as We all sat in the leather seats of this elitists club—watching a naked woman spin on the pole in front of us.
Satan didn't even bother flying us back to Russia, he said there's no point in limiting his power to just Moscow now that Lorenzo was dead. He said that the only thing that kept him away from this part of the states was Lorenzo's reputation and his capability for violence. Satan told me he's never been able to find a weak spot on Lorenzo, until me. I haven't spoken since.
Satan's arm draped over my shoulder as I clutched the bottle of scotch to my chest, the bottle cold against the bare skin. His arm over me was colder. I was numb, my skin and my limbs were no longer my own, and I didn't have the fight In me to push his hands off again,
The slutty top and thong I was wearing earned me stares, hungry eyes. I felt like a doll, like I was moveable and nothing more than a plaything. I felt hollow and like I needed to do bad things.
I wondered if I was bad enough if they'd just kill me, if they'd just finally fucking end this.
Marco sat beside me, watching the woman spin as he took sips of his rum and coke every few minutes. His eyes riddled with the reflection of the flashing lights, black suit pants and t-shirt just like the rest of them.
The man beside Satan—was sucking face with another of the woman who works here, and she was naked as she rode his fingers In front of us, moaning and whimpering lowly into the man's neck every so often.
The woman dancing on the pole was beautiful, long hair and tanned skin and I let her distract me as I watched her spin. Not a single emotion or thought in my mind, I just watched blankly.
