Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
12
ZEKE
As soon as I got home from practice, I began researching Vito Marchesi. It was harder to find information on him than I’d thought it would be, but damn if he didn’t look hot as fuck in every picture I found of him.
Even through my phone screen I could feel him luring me in. There was just something about him and seeing him in a tux… Damn. I stared at a picture of him from a charity gala, and I swore I could feel the power rolling off of him. Sometimes, I hated being attracted to dominant men like him, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted a chance to be with a man who could hold me down and make me fight. It would take a big man like Vito to do that. I was damn strong, or I’d never be able to hold my own out on the ice.
I found a picture of Vito together with his brother Valentino. They were volunteering at a church yard sale, which didn’t seem to fit their image. They each had an apron tied around their waist and seemed to be straightening objects on the table.
Maybe they were doing penance for what they did during the rest of the day. Both their names were connected to multiple violent crimes and suspected theft. Nothing was ever proven, though. Vito had been arrested numerous times but never charged. Most likely, his family had connections in the police department.
My search only left me more confused. Was Vito a guy who smiled while working at a church or a cold, psychotic killer?
Maybe he’s both.
Was that better or worse?
I found more images of Vito with other Marchesi family members. They might all be fucking criminals, but even from a picture I could tell they cared about each other. What was it like to be part of such a big, involved family?
You might find out if you actually talked to him.
Fuck no. Suddenly, it felt like the world was closing in around me. I had to get out of my apartment. All I could think of was Vito and how he scared me, excited me, and pissed me off. I needed something to make me stop thinking about him. Some drinks and a good hard fuck might do it.
You’re kidding, right? You’ll think of him the whole time.
I told that fucked up voice in my head to shut up, changed clothes, and headed out. I walked past my regular spots and headed out of my neighborhood, hoping the cold evening air would help clear my head.
All it did was make me wish Vito was there to wrap his arms around me and warm me up. This was ridiculous. I spent half my life on the fucking ice, I shouldn’t even feel the cold anymore.
I’d taken a chaotic path, but I ended up at a gay bar I’d driven past several times. I glanced over my shoulder as I walked inside. I had the feeling someone was watching me. The fuckers from Vegas still hadn’t shown up even though I’d received written or texted threats daily. I was probably just paranoid. Between my debt and Vito, that wouldn’t be surprising.
I found a seat at the bar and ordered a beer. As much as I wanted to get wasted, I knew I needed to stay alert in case my instincts were right, and someone was following me. I sipped my beer and scoped out the clientele.
A young blond man met my gaze and smiled. I held eye contact, and his eyes widened. He rose and moved toward me.
“Oh my God, are you Zeke Balogh?”
“Who wants to know?”
“Someone who is very interested in your…career.”
I smiled. “I’m Zeke. Why don’t you join me?” I gestured to the empty stool beside me.
“I’d be more than happy to. Too bad I don’t have my jersey for you to sign. I guess I’ll have to let you choose something else to put your mark on.” He looked pointedly down at his crotch.
I laughed. “You’re outrageous.”
“Is it working?”
I wanted it to be. He was hot as fuck and so clearly offering what I thought I wanted, but I was struggling to summon any real interest. He would be fun, and I would have been pleased as hell to put him on his knees before I met Vito, but now I wanted someone willing to take control rather than a fawning fan.
The young man frowned, and I realized I’d waited too long to answer. Before I could figure out what to say, a hand clamped down on my shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing?”
The young man’s eyes widened as I recognized Vito’s voice and the heat of his hand.
“He’s mine,” Vito said.
“That’s not true,” I protested, but the young man held his hand up in show of surrender and scurried back to his friends.