Adult Industry System-Chapter 112

Chapter 112: Chapter 112
I pushed the door open, the hinges letting out a faint, mocking creak. I braced myself for blood, for a struggle, for a nightmare—but the reality that greeted me was far more intoxicating and just as dangerous.
​"What the fu—" The words died in my throat.
​Sitting on the edge of my unmade bed was the Queen of the streets herself. Big Mom.
​In the warehouse, she had been titan of power in sharp power suits. Here, in the dim, amber glow of my bedroom, she was a vision of pure, unadulterated temptation. She had shed the armor of her business persona, replaced by a sheer, silk morning gown the color of midnight. The fabric was dangerously thin, clinging to her curves, and sliding off one shoulder to reveal the smooth, flawless expanse of her chocolate-toned skin, which seemed to glow with a soft, iridescent sheen.
​Her short hair was slicked back, emphasizing the sharp, regal lines of her face and the predatory intensity in her eyes. Her lips, full and perfectly shaped, were painted a deep, seductive crimson—a red so bold it looked like a warning and an invitation all at once.
​As she shifted, the gown parted, offering a breathtaking view of what lay beneath. She wore a lacey, crimson bra that sculpted her small but perfectly firm breasts, the scalloped edges of the cups barely containing her. Matching the set was a thin, delicate G-string that disappeared into the lush curves of her hips.
​She wasn’t a large woman, but she commanded the room with a compact, feline sexiness. She sat with one leg crossed over the other, her spine arched just enough to thrust her chest forward. One hand was planted on the mattress, her fingers digging into the silk sheets, while the other held a slim cigarette, the smoke curling around her like a halo. Her posture was a masterpiece of casual dominance—legs spread just wide enough to be provocative, her gaze fixed on me with a heavy-lidded, knowing smirk.
​Gingerbeard had been right. This was a surprise, but not the kind that came with a funeral. This was the woman who ruled the streets, the woman who owned half my soul and my company, sitting in my private sanctuary like she owned that, too.
​"Hey... hey, I must be dreaming," I muttered, my voice a low, gravelly rasp. My heart, which had been hammering with terror seconds ago, was now thundering for an entirely different reason.
Big Mom exhaled a thin plume of smoke, her eyes tracing the length of my body with the precision of a jeweler appraising a diamond. Her gaze lingered on the disarray of my clothes, the wrinkles in my shirt, and the faint, unmistakable scent of Lana’s expensive perfume still clinging to my skin.
​"This is not a dream, Hart. It’s me in the flesh," she said, her voice like velvet dragged over gravel. "What, you never thought you’d see me here? Well, you thought wrong. I bought you this place, remember? I have the keys to everything I own."
​Nothing made sense. The adrenaline from the encounter with Volkov was being replaced by a thick, heavy tension. Why was she in my bedroom? Why was she draped across my sheets in a morning gown that left nothing to the imagination?
​"Hey... you didn’t sleep here, did you?" I managed to ask, my throat dry.
​"Well, I did," she said, her crimson lips curving into a smirk. "Disappointed?"
​I didn’t answer. My brain was a short-circuiting mess of wires.
​"I spent the whole night here waiting for you," she continued, her hand—manicured and lethal—petting the silk of the mattress where I usually slept with Chloe.
​"Waiting for me?" I rasped. "What for? Have you finally decided to kill me?"
​She let out a soft, musical laugh that didn’t match the ruthlessness of her reputation. "Kill you? No. What, are you crazy? You’re my most important asset. Why would I kill you when I have so much to benefit from you? Are you that eager to die?"
​"Well, no. Obviously. I like breathing... for now," I said, my eyes darting around the room, searching for a hair tie, a stray shoe—any sign of Chloe.
​"Looking for your girl?" Big Mom asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
​"Obviously," I snapped. "Gingerbeard said you had the answers."
​"Oh, by ’Gingerbeard’ you mean Volkov?" She smiled, and for a second, I forgot she was a warlord of the streets. She was the perfect MILF—an hourglass body that looked like it had been sculpted out of dark chocolate and sin. My mind flashed to the [MILF Chronicles]. If I could add
her
to the collection, I wouldn’t just be a King; I’d be a God.
​"Yeah, whatever his name is... you didn’t kill her, did you?" I looked straight into her eyes, my hands clenching. Big Mom or not, if she had touched Chloe, this room was going to become a slaughterhouse.
​"I don’t have a reason to kill your girl... yet," she said.
​"So that translates to: she’s alive?"
​"Your cat is still breathing and unharmed."
​"Then where is she?"
​"Abigail escorted her back to her mother’s house," Big Mom said, her voice turning cold and possessive. "I can’t let your little friends stay in a building
I
bought for you.
I
decide who gets to live with you, Druski."
​I felt a surge of rage, but I swallowed it. I wasn’t in a position to argue about roommates while she had a Russian giant in my living room. "Why are you really here, Big Mom?"
​"Monet... call me Monet," she purred.
​She rose from the bed with the slow, liquid grace of a panther. The silk gown slid over her skin, the friction making a soft
hiss
in the quiet room. As she walked toward me, the gown billowed open, revealing the high-cut crimson G-string and the swell of her hips. Her small, firm breasts bounced slightly with every deliberate step, the lace of her bra barely masking her dark nipples.
​She stopped inches from me, the heat radiating off her body mixing with the scent of tobacco and high-end French perfume. She reached out, her fingers—cool and steady—tracing the line of my jaw before sliding down to my chest.
​"You and I have some private business, Druski," she whispered, her breath hot against my neck. "Business I’ve wanted to settle with you since the very first time I saw you in that warehouse. I didn’t save you just for the cameras. I saved you for
me