My Perverse: You're mine, you son of a bitch

Hello, dear readers.

Before you start, I’d like to introduce this new story. This is a dark gay romance, and the themes in this book are heavy and intense. It is a black flag story, so please read with that in mind.

I also want to be honest with you. I do not speak English, and I use a translator to help me bring my books to international readers. Because of that, there may be some small mistakes, such as wording, dialogue structure, or pronouns. I am doing my best to avoid errors, but some may still appear.

In Portuguese, we use gendered words for many things, like “the wall” or “the car,” which can sometimes cause the translation to lean toward feminine forms. Even though this is a romance between two men, there may occasionally be something that does not perfectly match, and I appreciate your understanding.

Thank you for giving this story a chance. I hope you enjoy the journey.

Vincenzo Valentini

I observe the crowded auction house, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the greed exuding from every pore of these men.

There is every kind of filthy person in this place, from corrupt politicians to faction leaders, all here with the same predatory glint in their eyes, awaiting the moment to find their new "merchandise."

To me, it is fucking fun to see human beings being exposed and sold like disposable trash. I cross my legs, feeling the fabric of my tailored suit, and a cold smile plays on my lips as the auctioneer announces the next lot.

I do not feel a shred of remorse; empathy is a disease I excised from myself long ago in the shadows of that basement. Seeing the terror plastered on the faces of those on stage, hearing the stifled crying and the sound of the gavel striking is my favorite soundtrack.

Everything I see in front of me is nothing more than cattle. Meat that generates profit. Pieces on a chessboard that serve only to keep my pockets full and my empire unshakable.

The desperation of these people feeds me, reminding me that, in this world, you are either the owner of the leash or the one wearing it. And I will never again be the one who obeys.

I savor the absolute control I hold over the fates of these wretches, feeling a delicious adrenaline rush through my spine with every high bid.

They are not people. They are numbers, transactions, and bargaining chips.

And, as long as the money flows, their humanity is the least of my concerns.

"Look who I find here."

A raspy voice with a heavy accent emerges beside me.

I shift my gaze and give a smirk, recognizing the imposing figure.

"Who would have thought the great Nikolai Volkov would set foot on my floor?"

The Bratva leader displays a cold smile, his eyes as freezing as the Siberian winter. He sits beside me and crosses his legs, adjusting his gold watch.

"My business requires me to know where the best weapons and drugs are produced, Vincenzo. And you are the best supplier Russia has ever had." Nikolai observes the stage with disdain. "Did you come to buy some new merchandise for your personal stock?"

I smile, pull a cigarette from my suit pocket, and light it. I draw the smoke slowly.

"It has been a while since I appeared in my own establishment. I want to see if I find something actually worth my time," I reply and release the smoke, staring at him intently. "And why are you here, Nikolai? I heard the war with the rival families in Moscow was intense. What brings you across the ocean to step into my territory? I believe you did not come just to attend the auction."

He lets out a short laugh, devoid of humor.

"The world is too small for me, Vincenzo. I am just ensuring my allies stay on top."

"A laudable attitude," I agree, maintaining eye contact. "But remember: here, I am the law."

Nikolai tilts his head, and his countenance becomes even sharper.

"Yes, the territory is yours. But do not forget that I am the one who ensures your weapons shipment reaches Europe without setbacks."

I smile without showing a hint of hesitation.

"I am not afraid of routes, Nikolai. I have weapons. Are we at the same level of cruelty? Perhaps. But I have nothing to lose. Do not try to measure strengths; you will lose."

The Russian leans back in the armchair. His discomfort is clear in the way he avoids direct eye contact for too long.

"Of course you are not afraid. You are a cold bastard, Vincenzo. But tell me... you are already forty-five. Do you still live alone in that blood fortress of yours?"

I let out a dry laugh.

"Alone and in command. I do not want to subject myself to anyone, Nikolai. My focus is expanding my empire and ensuring the Valentini name is feared on every continent."

"You talk as if you could control everything forever." He watches me with a cold gaze. "When I want something, I take it. Obsession is what keeps us alive, my friend. I have destroyed entire cities to get what I desired. Do not play invulnerable. When you find a prey that awakens your instinct, you will do everything to have it under your absolute domain."

I roll my eyes.

"I do not get attached, Nikolai. Obsession? If I feel that for someone, I do not mind breaking that person until they kneel and ask me for permission to breathe. And if someone ever messes with my head, that person will be lost. I would lock them in a gold cell and throw away the key."

He throws his head back and laughs, drawing the attention of some buyers.

"Control is addictive, I admit. But the hunt is the best part. Seeing the prey try to escape and realizing that all paths lead back to you... it is gratifying."

"So you also have your toys in Russia?" I provoke with a smile.

He laughs, a dangerous sound.

"I have everything money and fear can buy. But I still wait for the day I see you, the great Vincenzo, losing sleep over a piece of 'merchandise'."

I cross my legs, thoughtful.

"And who will take care of all this if you fall, Nikolai? You have no legitimate heirs."

"I have my methods of succession. And you? You share your throne with no one. What will become of your empire if fate decides to collect your debts?"

I run my tongue over my lips, reflecting on the void of the future.

"I will choose someone trustworthy, someone I have molded myself. And women... they bore me. Lately, I have found that fucking men is much more interesting. They fight harder, they resist more... the pleasure of the conquest is superior."

Nikolai smiles, understanding the perversity.

"If that already amuses you, imagine when you find someone who makes your blood boil. I still have much to negotiate with you, Vincenzo, and I say this: I want to be there to see you become a slave to your own obsession."

I give a short laugh.

"I already told you: if someone interests me, I kidnap them. They will be my pleasure object until I get bored and discard them."

He stands up and adjusts his charcoal gray suit.

"If you say so... But obsession transforms us. Now, I will return to my business. I have a shipment to check at the port."

Nikolai walks a few steps but stops and turns, flashing an enigmatic smile.

"I will see you at the Blood Circle, Vincenzo. I hope that by then, you have already found your new amusement. It would be a bore to see you alone at that event while everyone else displays their new trophies."

He gives a slight nod and disappears into the crowd. I watch him leave and sigh, taking one last drag of my cigarette before crushing it in the ashtray.

I will never get on all fours for anyone. Nikolai speaks of obsession as if it were a game, but I know that for me, it will be a death sentence for whomever I choose.

I have no patience for those theatrical "happily ever after" plots that other leaders out there pretend to live. If someone, someday, awakens that sickly obsession in me, they will be nothing but a toy, property for my exclusive use, never an equal.

I feel a visceral boredom, a void that my forty-five years carry like a heavy burden. My life has become a repetitive cycle of power expansion and cold executions. Everything is gray, everything is mechanical.

I miss an electric shock, something that truly makes me feel the blood run hot and violent through my veins.

But make no mistake. I do not want someone gentle, a charitable soul who tries to "save" me. I have no salvation, and I do not seek the light. I want someone as broken as I am, someone whose shards cut whoever dares to touch.

I want a creature that does not tremble before the barrel of a gun pressed against their forehead, who savors their own pain and whose cock gets hard at the acrid smell of gunpowder.

I want a true pervert, someone who submits to my cruelty with a smile and who instigates me to be even more brutal.

Use for absolute pleasure and then discard: that is how merchandise should be treated.

But perhaps... deep down, I am looking for merchandise that is impossible to destroy.

Someone who can bear all my weight and still ask me for more.