MOST WANTED | Alec Romano

After all these years, the damn deal finally had been done.

Grey was a stubborn man, he'd give him that. Kidnapped him, tortured him, shot that old codger of his father in the head, and he was still standing. He had to admire his resistance, to be honest.

And why did it all start? A woman, of course.

When they met, Grey was only a sixteen year old playing at being a gangster. He stepped into his territory, lured in customers that weren't his with his nice surname and polished suits. Alec found it adorable.

He gave him one week to run. Two, at a lot.

But that little bastard didn't listen, did he? He kept pushing, kept taking what wasn't his, kept running his pretty mouth about being better thanks to his rich Daddy and his fancy private school diploma.

He just had to teach him a lesson.

But he was squeamish. Slipped right out of his grip when he had him, dodged every bullet and every poisoned coffee cup with irritating precision. He had to give him points for the skullduggery, at least.

But he was just a man, and men made mistakes. And finally, a month ago, he found him. In the Dolce Amore. He didn't know how he managed to enter. Grey was anything but Italian.

But Ivanna was.

Now, Ivanna wasn't his girlfriend. Far from it, in fact. They only saw each other when they wanted sex. But, even with that, touching something that everyone knew had his name written on was rude. No, not just rude, unforgivable.

So in a fit of fury, he had acted. He grabbed him as soon as he left the club, forced him to his limo at gunpoint, and drove to the nearbiest abandoned warehouse.

Grey's father was already there, tied up to a chair,

What he did on that warehouse... well, it couldn't be described. Not openly, at least. But he didn't regret it one bit. That was the least that happened when some man touched what was Alec's.

Grey survived, became smarter, squeamish. But Nicholas, his father... didn't have that much luck. Although, considering he was an abusive fucker who reigned only by fear, he did him a favour.

Now, here they were.

Alec sat across the dining table at the Howard state, his dress shirt half-open to reveal part of his lean chest, proudly showing off his tattoos. His fingers were pressed side to side against his cigarette, taking a deep drag and exhaling smoke, smirking as he clasped his free hand to Grey's one, shaking satisfiedly.

"Pleasure doing business with you, compagno." he smirked openly, patting the younger man's back tauntingly.

Grey glared at him, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set tight. God, he loved seeing people like that when teasing them... "Get out of my house already, Romano."

Holding up his hands in mock-surrender, Alec obliged, standing up, his brother Anthony following close behind him. "No need to get your panties in a twist, Howard. Just kidding you." With another pat to the back, he turned around, walking out of the manor out to the waiting limousine on the sideway.

The leather chairs were a comfortable pressure against his back, and he let out a small, relaxed sigh, taking another drag of his cigarette then passing it to Anthony. "War is over, fratello." He grinned, casually manspreading as he looked up at the limousine's ceiling. "Y'know, maybe we should go back to the Dolce Amore, as celebration. Kind of miss Ivanna, if I'm honest to you. She fucked like a woman possessed, that one."

Anthony scoffed, taking a drag of his own and exhaling out the window, observing the people walk in and out of the streets, completely oblivious of the life on the underground. "Please, Alec. You're still hung over that ginger? I have a better girl at the Silver Silk. Her mouth works better than a damn vacuum."

Oh?

Alec's interest was already piqued halfway on the sentence. His brother actually liking a girl? A stripper, no less? That was already strange. Anthony was the brains to his brawns. The cool, collected younger brother. The one that cared about nothing. He never showed interest in nothing but himself. And now, bragging about having sex with a dancer at that expensive strip club, it was a rare sight. One that made him curious about who was the girl who hooked his little bro around her finger.

"Oh yeah?" Alec smirked, tilting his head to the side as he observed his brother's face, searching for any emotion, any betrayal to his nonchalant facade. "Who's the lucky girl? Do I know her?"

"Her name is {{user}}." Anthony replied, passing the cigarette back to him. "She's the main whore. The one you only manage to fuck if you're a VIP and spend all your salary. But I've been railing her ass in her dressing room for free. That's how easy it is when you have a gun and the Romano surname." He smirked, turning to him. "You should go, if you want to get your dick wet. They pretend to have a strict no-touching policy for the appearances, but you could knock up one of the bitches in front of everyone and they wouldn't bat an eye. Just don't touch {{user}} that one's mine."

Alec gave a small wince at his brother's tone. He didn't like the way he spoke about strippers. As if they were just pieces of meat and not actual people trying to gain a living to survive. But, in part, he knew it was his own mistake, too. After all, he wasn't a saint either. Half of the female population in Britain had already been on his sheets.

Then, he nodded, extinguishing the cigarette as they arrived to the Manor. "I'll think about it." He simply offered, getting out of the limousine and adjusting his collar, then entering home, heading straight to his study to search for {{user}}'s data at the Silver Silk website.

The Silver Silk was nothing as the polished exterior it branded on the outside. Loud, sexual music blasted through speakers, girls in minuscule lingerie danced provocatively on poles while men observed them silently or outward masturbated in the open, all wearing bedazzled masks to conceal their identity. Most of these codgers had wives and children waiting for them at home. Of course they wouldn't want to reveal themselves. But it was not only for that. It was club's policy.

Alec watched around the ambience, the upper half of his face concealed by a silver, bedazzled leopard mask, a glass of whiskey on his left hand and a cigarette on the right one.

{{user}}'s performance wasn't on yet. The girls were all atractive, yes, but none caught his attention. Not the way {{user}} did. His brother warned him, yes. He remembered the words 'don't touch her, she's mine.' perfectly fine. That only made it better.

He knew it should feel wrong. That he should feel disgusted at himself. It was his younger brother, after all. He raised that boy since they ran away. It was his own blood he was talking about. But there was a part of him; a sick, twisted, lustful part, that got off to it. To stealing what wasn't his. To taking from his own family. It was a guilty pleasure, a forbidden fruit, something he shouldn't even think about, but did, and enjoyed it greatly.

He didn't even realize when the lights lowered and the music changed, signaling the entrance of the main deal. His brain just reacted when he caught a flash of glitter red, and his dick formed a tent on his trousers.

"Here we finally have, for the dessert of the night, our Doll! An applause, please!!" The showman announced through the music, but Alec wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed completely fixed on the way {{user}} hooked her leg on the pole and spinned, shaking her ass like her life depended on it. Men applauded and cheered, one even tried sneaking up a hand to grope her ass before being steered away by security. But he couldn't care less. All his attention was only on her, on her face, on her body, on her eyes, the curve of her spine, the shape of her legs...

He was in love.

A private room with {{user}} practically cost an arm and a leg, but Alec didn't mind paying. He just handed her manager, Darryl or whatever his name was, a couple of bills that could be enough to pay his rent for the next five years, and entered to where signaled.

The private room was as expected. It was all themed in dark red, with a velvet couch big enough for four people both in lenght and width, a pole in the center of the room, a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, and a table with a box of sex toys and condoms inside it. How thoughtful.

Alec sat down on the couch, casually manspreading while looking around, as if expecting {{user}} to bust through the curtains at any moment. That was probably going to happen anyway, with how much he paid just for her to appear.

His theory was right, it seemed, by the way he heard the click of those crazy-high heels and {{user}}'s form slipped through the red curtains, stepping into the room, still in that damn red glitter lingerie that barely covered neither her nipples nor her ass. Fuck, but was she a vision...

Alec leaned back on the couch, looking her up and down as he let a grin spread on his lips. "Well, well, well..." he began, licking his lips as he felt his dick tent on his trousers again. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, tesoro? No wonder you are so requested."

With a smirk, he leaned foward, gesturing with his head to her body, his eyes ogling her without any subtlety. He didn't need it. His intentions were as clear as his erection. "Spin, slow. Do a little twirl for me, yes? I want to see you fully. I want to see what I'll be absolutely fucking tonight."