Hedging Bets || Marcus & Sophia
@lasophiawren
Il Labirinto was the glittering jewel of New York, as far as Marcus was concerned. Classic Italian design with a touch of glamour and the comforting sounds of slot machines, roulette and the sound of money being lost in spades. But while money poured itself into the pockets of the Italian mafia, the occasional soul would find a marginal return for their faith. It was a land of decadence as much as it was a land of greed; the perfect place for scavengers like himself to find willing victims desperate enough to do anything for a chance to keep playing the game.
But Marcus wasn’t here to find victims. He had business waiting for him at the lower levels of this lavish establishment, but they could wait until he had at least finished his drink first. It would be a waste, after all, to rush straight into business when he had the Sophia Wren in his company. A stunner in every sense of the word; she was worth showing off to those who would only dream of having company like hers in their presence. But mostly, her companionship was to show these commoners what he was entitled to have, and what they would never attain unless the goddess of luck favored them.
He considered it a service to Dante, spurring these poor bastards into throwing their salaries away.
“I would like to thank you again, Sophia. I know it was rather short notice on my part.” Marcus said, smiling at the blonde as he slowly finished his brandy. Checking the time, there was a good ten minutes or so before his arrival would be seen as rude. It was good to keep men like that waiting; it reminded them of who held the reins to the meeting. “Normally, this is the sort of thing that I would prefer to do on my own, but my associates have made it clear that I will require some extra attentiveness tonight. I believe you are more than adequate enough to ensure that gentlemen remain so.“
Marcus wondered for a moment if he should have told Dante that he was borrowing Sophia for the night. Strictly-speaking it wasn’t exactly the sort of thing that would have been approved of. However, surely things would be fine so long as he made sure the woman wasn’t killed, probably. It was always hard to tell with his leader. “Luckily for us, my partners aren’t exactly the subtle types. If there are any surprises, I’m sure you will be able to spot them from a mile away.” At least, he hoped so. He was rather allergic to most kinds of pain unless it involved other vigorous activities. “Are there any other questions before we greet our rugged guests?”
This wasn’t at all the sort of date that Sophia was used to being taken out on. Usually, if she wasn’t immediately being whisked away upstairs to a luxurious hotel room, she was being put to use solely as arm candy, a pretty little thing to clutch onto the arm of a wealthy, much-older gentleman who wanted nothing more than to show her off like some sort of prized jewel. Tonight, however, there was a much more daunting task at hand - Marcus Blackman had requested her this evening, and while the time that they spent together usually involved his California king-sized bed and the raciest lingerie that she owned, this would be something much different. He needed a spy, someone whose presence would go almost completely unnoticed at a meeting between men who were every bit as powerful as the weapons they kept on them at all times, and it would be Sophia’s job to siphon information out of them so effortlessly that she might as well have been reading it from a book. It was the first real job that she had been given under the ownership of the Italian mob - one where every bit of the rigorous training her previous master had given her would be required if she wanted to succeed. It was a good thing, then, that she was fluent in four languages and more than capable of carrying her own in a conversation regarding the arts or even politics; it was a good thing, then, that she wasn’t just an empty-headed doll with features crafted from pure porcelain.
As per Matcus’ instructions, Sophia had dressed to impress - the gown she wore was a glimmering, barely-there frock that had been gifted to her right off of the runway by one of her billionaire benefactors, and it clung to her graceful dancer’s frame like a second skin, covering just enough of her smooth and creamy skin to beckon men towards her like a moth to a flame. There was nothing classless about Sophia - there were diamonds in her hair in the form of a crystalline hairpiece pinning back half of her glimmering marigold curls, and the rest of her thick locks tumbled effortlessly down the bare curves of her shoulders...just begging to be tugged and yanked on from behind as she was fucked within an inch of her life. Hopefully, if everything went according to plan, Marcus would give her just that...providing that she was a good girl for him, of course. After all, he was looking incredibly handsome tonight - even more so than usual - and Sophia couldn’t help but flutter her lashes up at him appreciatively as he drank from his brandy, inclining her head towards his as he thanked her for her services - something that he really didn’t need to do at all.
“Non - as always, monsieur, it is my pleasure to spend time with you,” she demurred with a smile, the twinkling lights of the casino casting stars upon her soft, milk and honey skin. “Even more so when I am able to be of assistance! I just hope, s’il vous plait, that you will allow me to be of further assistance to you tonight as well,” she continued with a sultry little smile, looking up at him as she raised a graceful hand to smooth out the collar of his tuxedo, unable to stop herself from being so shamelessly flirtatious with him. Sophia lived for praise, and all she wanted was for him to be pleased with her - all she wanted was to be worthy of his approval. “I promise that I will listen most attentively, and if there is a particular ear that you feel as if needs to be whispered into, then please do not hesitate to instruct me to do so...as you already know, I am very well-versed when it comes to taking orders.” Her hand slid down, then, fine-boned and elegant, until she was just barely cupping the bulge between his thighs, dainty fingers lightly tracing over the outline of his crotch.
“No questions, monsieur, even if I am just the slightest bit nervous,” she murmured softly, stepping closer to him as she gently massaged at the swell of his cock through his trousers. “You promise that you will remain safe, oui?”
