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. I couldn't.
I never liked scotch. The liquor was never enjoyable to me, but what does that matter now? What does it matter what is good or not.
The scotch coated my throat and caused a buzz in my head. The buzz distracted me.
I didn't like scotch, but Lorenzo did.
Eyes watched me, glaring. Wishing to do horrible, unspeakable things to me. Hollow and dead eyes from Satan's men as We all sat in the leather seats of his 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 the Moscow base now that Lorenzo was...
So Satan said we would stay a while, to 'enjoy all that it has to offer'
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 colder.
The slutty top and thong I was wearing earned me stares, hungry eyes.
Marco sat beside me, watching the woman spin as he took sips of his rum ever few moments. His eyes riddled with the reflection of the flashing lights.
The man beside Satan—was sucking face with another of the naked woman, as he fingered her core In front of us.
And the woman dancing on the pole, my eyes watched her spin. Not a single emotion or thought in my mind, I just watched blankly.
Two weeks. He's been gone. Dead. Two weeks.
"Be a good girl and get me another drink." Satan whispered into my ear, and I looked at him for a few moments before I shoved my bottle of scotch into Marcos lap abruptly and stood.
My bare ass hanging out as I walked up to the bar, a man pouring me his bosses favourite. Gin.
Everyone here worked for Satan now, he'd bought the club and made it his own private brothel.
This little club was heavily guarded, and we sat in a private room. One of Satan's guards watched me as I stood at the bars counter to make sure I didn't run.
