Filthy Mogul – The Billion-Dollar Men Read Online M. Robinson

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Dark, Forbidden, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
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“Please stop!” I begged with my hands out in front of me, bawling my eyes out.

It was beyond my control, it had always been beyond my fucking control, so I pretended as if this was another time, another life, one where this wasn’t my life.

Where there was no past.

No present.

No future.

I lost count of how many times those words flew out of my mouth like they were acid, leaving a hole in my heart.

A hundred and fifteen miles per hour…

One twenty…

My car started to shake, and before I gave it another thought, I slammed my foot on the accelerator until the pedal hit the floorboard. The vibration from the motor rumbled through me, making the hairs on my arms stand straight up.

I suddenly felt cold all over, chills running down my spine. I didn’t even know where I was going until I rounded another hill. I white-knuckled the steering wheel, emitting a new high I had yet to experience. Resting my head back against the headrest, I let it take over.

My thoughts were bleeding off me now, right onto the cliff I was speeding up on.

A hundred and thirty miles per hour…

One thirty-five…

I sucked in deep breaths, heaving for air. My heart beat so fucking hard, I thought the pounding would knock me over the edge from the force of my own rage. I closed my eyes to allow fate to run its course.

And then…

I slammed on the brakes, jolting me back to reality.

“Fuck!”

My car spun out of control, whipping around into several three sixties with all the memories tossing and turning as I just held on with wide eyes.

All I could smell was rubber.

Gasoline.

And my own fucking fear surrounded me as my car abruptly stopped, forcefully yanking my body with it.

I couldn’t move.

I just sat there in shock, looking out over the city with the hood of my car inches from going over the cliff's edge. My chest was rising and falling, gasping for my next breath.

My next anything.

“What the fuck?” I breathed out, heaving. Quickly realizing what could have been.

I used to do this when I was a kid.

I knew better now.

Or so I thought I did…

No more thoughts.

No more words.

No more memories.

There was only silence…

And I thrived in that.

CHAPTER

EIGHT

LUKE

Friday night, I was back in my Miami nightclub, one of the most prestigious clubs around. On any given night, you’d find exclusive private parties happening in the back of the club, where no one got past my guards unless I knew them personally. It was the only way I could protect myself from the long list of people who hated me.

Those rules were just that—there weren’t any.

From sex to drugs to gambling to prostitution to drug smuggling to BDSM to fucking murder—those black walls had seen it throughout the years. Club Inferno was where the elite of the corrupt partied. It was all the craze among the underground worlds. You name it, it took place in my establishment.

Different rooms for different purposes offered something for everyone of all tastes and kinks. The high-energy dance club when you first walked in was hypnotic. Bright lights and strobes bounced from the towered ceilings while the best DJs in the city spun fresh beats you couldn’t help but shake your ass to. Private tables were scattered throughout where you could snort rails off your table or drink the best liquor your money could buy to your heart’s content.

But this was all a cover.

At the back of the club was a set of guarded double doors that led to a long hallway that housed tunnels that led to more depravity, depending on your interests. Each room was named after the source of entertainment it provided, from girls working the poles to a casino to just plain old shooting the shit in the cigar room. The private rooms in the back held beds for a more intimate setting with one of my girls, or you could be a part of a fucking orgy if you walked room to room.

Obviously, the club wasn’t bought under my name. I knew the right people to make it happen without jumping through too many hoops. They ensured I wasn’t linked to the lease in any way, shape, or form, and the LLC was under a ghost company. Just in case some shit went down, I wouldn’t go down with it.

I opened Inferno for purely selfish reasons, wanting a safe environment to call my own. Where the monster inside me could live, breathe, and be out in the fucking open without having to look over my shoulder around every corner. Even if it was only for a few hours a night.

A few moments in time.

All that mattered was I was free. Away from judgment, scrutiny, and being under a goddamn microscope day in and day out. Especially being in the eye of the media more so than I have before. I was physically fucking exhausted.


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