Only One Night: A Fusion Universe Novel

by Dani Rene

  The brunette turns to us and smiles. “Get comfortable, gentlemen,” she tells us while the waitress sets our drinks on the small side tables on either end of the sofas. I settle into the cushions, lifting the tumbler to my lips.

  This club is owned by one of the well-known leaders of the Mafia. And being in here only sets me on edge. My past is littered with darkness—things I’ve done were questionable. Since I’ve been in America, I’ve tried to keep my nose clean. Still, being in Portland, I’ve met many wings of the Italian American Mafia.

  “I’m the club manager, Alejandra. If you need anything at all, gentlemen, you’re welcome to it. I’ll leave you to enjoy the show now.” Within the darkness, only the podium is lit, and the pole is gleaming in the low light.

  Lifting the glass to my lips, I take a long sip of the strong liquid. A burn trails from my tongue down my throat and warms my chest as I savor the alcohol. A much-needed drink after the long day.

  I watch Alejandra walk out, her hips swaying back and forth, and my cock jolts at the sight. I’m tempted to ask for an hour alone with her. I’ve always loved women who are curvy, voluptuous, and delicious.

  “I look forward to it,” I murmur under my breath, tipping my glass in a cheers gesture. Just then, the curtain opens, and two women stroll into the room. One is what I would call a tigress, and I know immediately she’s for Dominic. Her body is lithe, long, tanned legs, and an ass you could bounce a penny off. Her tits are more than a handful, and I imagine he would want to slide his cock between them, at least I know I would.

  Her eyes are green, the color of a forest. Deep and endless. She takes two steps up to Dom, and he’s on his feet. “Hi,” she greets in a sultry, sinful tone, and his smile says it all.

  “Hello,” the girl before me smiles. She’s shy, perhaps new to this job, but I’ll be fucked, she’s incredible.

  “Darling.” I smile, crooking my finger, calling her closer. She settles herself, straddling my lap. “You’re quite a sight,” I tell her, lifting my hand to grip the dark chocolate curls that hang down her shoulders. Her breasts are a handful, perhaps a B-cup. But it’s her body that’s got me hard as fuck.

  “I’m Antonia,” she tells me. Sweet little Italian girls are too tempting. “You’re from England?” Her question is pure curiosity, and I nod.

  “I am, darling.” My hand trails down her arm, feeling the silky skin beneath my fingers. “How about you move those hips?” I lower my chin, my gaze dropping to her thighs. The tiny pair of panties she’s wearing cup her cunt like a second skin. Her pussy lips taunt me, and I’m dying to touch her, but we can’t. I’ve been to many strip clubs before.

  The rules.

  “Make me come with those moves,” I order, and she continues her little lap dance. Moving her hips over my groin, rubbing her core over my growing erection, causing me to drop my head back and close my eyes. The sensation is incredible. Her heat is intoxicating, and it doesn’t take long before my balls tighten, and my release is close. “Stop,” I urge, gripping her hips to stop moving.

  “But I thought—”

  “How much for the whole night? Perhaps even early morning, if you can handle me.” I wink, and she moves off me, taking the hint.

  “Two thousand,” she responds. I trail my eyes over her, the small wet spot in her panties evidence she’s clearly up for some fun.

  “Good,” I tell her, downing the rest of my drink. “Get your stuff. I’ll ensure the payment is made before we leave.” She nods, turns, and heads back to the door they entered through. Her ass is mine tonight, and I can’t wait to fuck her until she’s screaming.

  “You’re leaving?” Dom questions shocked at my choice of taking someone home because he knows it’s not who I am. The beautiful, leggy tigress is perched on his lap.

  “I am. I have a kitten to play with.” I chuckle, rising from the sofa. I shake my best friend’s hand, leaving him with his girl. Being single for so long hasn’t been my choice. My heart was broken, shattered, and that’s left me wary of meeting someone for any long-term relationship. Yes, I could have a different woman in my bed every night, but that’s not who I am. This is a treat for me, something I don’t usually do. I may watch the show, but I don’t always touch.

  If I were to find someone who truly captured my attention, perhaps I would be willing to give a relationship a try, but right now, I should take a page from Dom’s book and enjoy this time.

  Chapter 3

  Elisabet

  Stepping into the Donovan International building is like walking into one of the opulent boutique stores in France or Italy. It’s luxurious, modern, and looks as if money drips from the paint that adorns the walls. Taking small steps toward the reception desk, I allow my eyes to take in every square inch of the welcome area.

  White walls, black carpets, and furniture the color of a decadent burgundy greet me, along with a stunning receptionist who is perched on a chair behind a desk that seems to swallow her.

  “Good morning. How can I help you?” she asks. Her smile isn’t plastered on; instead, it’s genuine.

  “I’m here for my ten o’clock with Mr. Donovan,” I inform her, giving her a kind grin of my own. She nods, taps away on the keyboard for a few seconds before picking up the phone and dialing a number.

  “Mr. Donovan, your appointment is here.” Her voice is lowered, but I can hear every word. “Yes, sir. I’ll show her in.” When she hangs up, she rises from her chair and rounds the humungous white oak desk. “This way.” She turns toward the long hallway, which takes us into a smaller area where there are two elevators that look like they’re from a 1950s movie.

  I glance her way, taking in her outfit, which is immaculate. Black pencil skirt, bright red blouse, with shiny, onyx heels. Her dark hair is pinned neatly in a bun on the back of her head, and she leads me toward the silver metal doors.

  Once they slide open on a soft ding, we step inside, and she pushes the button for the top floor. Fifteen. It’s not a skyscraper, but I’m sure Mr. Donovan has a lovely view. Silence follows us up to the offices, until the doors open and my guide gestures to the floor without stepping out of the elevator.

  “He’s waiting,” are the only words she utters before pushing a button, and the doors whoosh close, leaving me on the landing outside two ornate wooden doors. With my hand on the gold doorknob, I twist and push. A soft whoosh beckons me inside, and I’m met with an office that’s both elegant and modern with delicate touches of grays and blues in the large rug under a glass coffee table. The black-and-white artwork that hangs on the walls compliment the faux leather furniture, along with a dark oak floor-to-ceiling bookshelf on one wall. It’s not the space I pictured when I thought of him.

  Something about the playboy made me think he’d be seated in an office filled with the usual toys affluent men of his stature have surrounding them. Perhaps more glass, less wood, and for some reason, I thought he’d have his accolades hanging on the walls. But when my gaze trails over the room, it’s all monochrome, except for a lone colorful painting that hangs opposite his desk.

  There’s something sad about it. The colors are a stark contrast to each other—reds, yellows, with hints of dark blue and green—almost as if the artist wanted the viewer to feel the pain of the subject. A woman with dark hair, porcelain skin, and pale blue eyes. She’s dressed in a bright red dress.

  “Ms. Rossi.” His voice teases my name in a baritone, which sends a shiver skittering up my spine. I didn’t realize he was British, but the accent is familiar, from when I visited. I can’t place where exactly he’s from, which causes me to wonder how long he’s been living in America.

  When I finally turn to the desk where he’s perched on, I’m met with the teal eyes of Rome Donovan. His eyes are partly light brown, and the other half a blue-green that reminds me of a lake. It’s alluring, pulling me in as if there’s an invisible cord tugging me closer.

  The effect of him, of his aura, surrounds me, grips me in its feral claws, and I know
why so many women fall for him or even drop their panties for him. He emanates sensuality like a cologne.

  “Mr. Donovan.” I nod, offering him a smile as I step farther into his domain. This is his kingdom. He rules it. There’s no question about it. “Thank you for meeting with me today,” I say, offering my hand, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the jolt of electricity that shoots all the way down to my toes.

  “Anything for a beautiful lady,” he coos in a thick British accent. His voice is husky, causing goosebumps to rise up over my whole body. His large, probably six-foot frame towers over me, and I’m tempted to hide in his warmth. His eyes shimmer with mischief, and I can’t help a small smile from playing on my lips. For a moment, I forget who I am and why I’m here. “How can I make you smile today, Ms. Rossi?” he says, breaking the spell. His boyish charm and masculine confidence hold my attention more than I care for.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I respond, hoping to sound confident. It’s been far too long since a man has paid me attention the way he is, and it’s knocking me off my game.

  “I’m here to purchase the building on Chestnut Street. It’s vacant at the moment, I have the money, and I’d like to have the papers drawn up as soon as possible.” When I stop for a breath, I realize I’m rambling. I’m talking too fast, and the pitch in my tone is evidence that he’s affected me.

  “Easy, darling.” He chuckles, walking back to his desk, offering me a view of his ass and the way those dark slacks seem to mold to his muscular thighs. Jesus. I need to get my head checked. He gestures to the chair opposite his desk. “Sit. Let’s talk.”

  Chapter 4

  Rome

  I’m enamored.

  The woman who’s settling herself in the chair opposite me is incredible. Yes, I’ve been attracted to many women. Beauties from all over the world. But there’s something about Ms. Rossi that makes me want to know more. Learn more.

  Her eyes are the color of an ocean amid a thunderous storm—grey and blue—hues of sadness. However, there’s a spark in them; it dances with emotion I’d love to see her unleash fully. My cock thickens. It’s painfully hard as I watch her chest rise and fall with quick breaths. I noticed how she shivered when my hand touched hers.

  I affect her.

  And that’s all I need to make my play.

  “The building you’re wanting is not for sale anymore,” I tell her, causing her to pin me with an icy glare. Fuck, she’s stunning. Even when she’s angry, she’s exquisite. And that makes me even harder.

  “What do you mean? The sign on the—”

  “It’s not for sale, because I’m pulling it off the market. Something’s come up, and I’ve decided to purchase it myself.” Her eyes glow, like a candle’s been lit behind the blue glass, and she’s about to burn me to ash.

  “It was for sale less than twenty-four hours ago. When exactly did you decide this?” she retorts hotly, pushing up from the chair. Her curves are hugged by a black dress that seems to be molded to her frame. Her tits, those incredibly luscious-looking globes, taunt me from the low neckline, and I have to shift in my chair to adjust my dick that’s now solid-fucking steel.

  Lifting my arm, I push the sleeve of my crisp white shirt up and cast a quick glance at my watch. The silver Rolex shimmers from my wrist. I trail my gaze back up to meet her tormented glare and offer a smirk before replying, “About ten minutes ago when you walked in here and told me you wanted it.” Leaning back, I watch as fire explodes in her beautiful eyes. Her lips, full and bright red, cause my dick to jolt. I’d love to see her lipstick ring around the base of my cock.

  “Mr. Donovan, be reasonable. There are plenty more buildings for you to plunder,” she says, softening her tone. Her choice of words have me chuckling. This fucking woman is going to be my end.

  “Ms. Rossi, trust me, there are many other things I’d prefer to plunder right now, and a building isn’t one of them.” Her cheeks darken with a rosy hue at my innuendo, but is gone as swiftly as it appeared, and the ice princess is back.

  “I’ve come here to conduct a business arrangement, and if you’d take me seriously, you’d see that I have the capital to close this deal before you leave this office today.” There’s something erotic about a woman who’s strong, sassy, and delightfully bitchy. This siren definitely is all those things and so much more. It’s the so much more that’s got my mind racing with how I can break through that cold exterior to find the warm sensuality I know she’s hiding.

  “Fine,” I say, rising to full height as she keeps her gaze on me. I feel it down to my Calvin Klein boxers. “I’ll accept your paperwork, on one condition.” She slowly lifts her gaze as I step around my desk. A slow, heated path she follows with those stormy eyes makes my zipper uncomfortably tight. From my shoes up to my chest, landing on my own strange-colored eyes. Since I was a kid, people have told me I’m special, different. My eyes are teal most of the time, but there’s an odd occasion when they turn blue. It’s subtle. Only a few people notice it, and when she watches me, tipping her head to the side, I know she sees it.

  “And what is that?” she asks on a breathy sigh. I love playing this game with her, and I know the next words from my mouth will put that fire back in her glare.

  “Dinner. With me. Tonight, at seven,” I tell her simply.

  “No, I don’t—”

  “There’s no debate, Ms. Rossi. If you want that building, you’ll have to have dinner with me. It’s not a date, merely a . . . business arrangement. My contingency plan to get to know you before allowing you to purchase a piece of property I’ve had my eye on.”

  Her face is stoic for a moment before she shakes her head and rises. Her heels put her about a head’s breadth below my chin. She’s not tiny. She has incredible curves. And with each move of her hips, all I can focus on is how they’d look when I bend her over and fuck her from behind.

  Jesus, get a grip, Rome.

  “That’s not a good idea, Mr. Donovan.” Her accent seduces me. It rolls over me in warm waves. An ocean crashing on the shore. And I gladly allow her to pull me into her depths.

  “Then, the building is no longer on the market. I trust you can find your way out,” I tell her, buttoning up my suit jacket and turning away from her.

  “Wait!” The corner of my mouth lifts in a satisfied smirk.

  Right into the net. I love butterflies, and she’s just been caught in my net.

  “One dinner,” she bites out. It’s not angry — it’s defeated. I’ve won too many rounds in the boardroom not to know when I have the upper hand. I don’t understand why she wants this building in particular, or why I’m even allowing her to play along. But when I turn to face her, I realize exactly why. This woman is a tangled ball of tension. Anxiety is evident in her gaze, and I know I am capable of undoing every knot she’s holding onto. I want to watch her unravel. To fall apart at the seams. Then, as I slowly wind her strand by perfect strand around my finger, she’ll be in my bed soon. She’s a siren, luring me to my death, but I’m not letting her get away so easily without having her sing for me.

  Chapter 5

  Elisabet

  As soon as I step out of Rome’s office, I feel flustered. He wangled his way into my evening, asking me to join him for dinner. Even though he says it’s purely business, I have a feeling a man like him doesn’t keep things strictly business. Stalking my way to the exit, my mind is adrift with images of what dinner entails.

  This is something I can’t allow to happen. Business and pleasure do not go hand in hand. In fact, they’re the opposite. And I need to keep them separate. Slipping into the driver’s seat of my car, I start the engine while remembering how he smiled. The way his eyes danced with amusement. And the way his hands, those beautifully manicured hands, gripped the pen as he signed the contract for us to go into business together. For me to be his client. I’m not sure why he wanted that, but when I read through it, it all seemed legit, so I signed.

  I’m not officially a client of Donovan Int
ernational. I know he has properties for sale across the country, as well as in Europe. Perhaps one day, if I decide to extend my business, he can help.

  When I pull into the parking lot of the hotel, I can’t believe where the day has gone. Granted, I’ve been to see five suppliers and picked out furniture for the new restaurant. My mind is still on Rome. For some reason, the man has weaseled his way in, and I can’t get him out.

  I step into my suite and take a deep breath. The beautiful room I’m renting is my safe haven for now. The man affected me. He shouldn’t. We can’t embark on this stupid plan of his, but I can’t lose that building.

  When my phone rings, my heart jolts in my chest. One glance at the screen tells me it’s the one person I was hoping would leave me be. Marco Gianetti. He is my father’s lifelong friend, and the reason Dad followed me to New York. Marco has known me since I was a child, always visiting us when he was in Italy.

  “Ciao,” I answer, knowing that if I don’t, he’ll follow me to the West Coast, and that’s the last thing I need right now.

  “Ciao, Bella.” His response is light, almost too uncaring, because I know this man, and that’s not how he normally speaks to me. “Come stai?”

  “I’m fine, Marco. What do you want?”

  His dark chuckle is my response. It causes me to shudder in fear. “Is that any way to speak to the man who helped you escape?” His voice is thick with indignation. He knows he’s right, and I can’t argue with that. He did help me. Only because I had no other choice. The life I was stuck in was one that would never have let me escape without Marco’s help.

  “I’m tired. You know I didn’t mean to be so abrasive.”

  “Si, I know this, Bella. Now tell me, when are you paying me the money that you owe me?” The words jar me. I thought I had more time. That’s why I wanted to purchase the building, open the restaurant, and make a profit before I had to let go of the money I had saved. Granted, there is a lot, but with what I owe Marco and what the building costs, I’ll never be able to get the restaurant up and running with whatever’s left.