As I walked into the building, I noticed Dorothy at the front desk as always. She smiled at me softly. I nodded, recalling how we had fixed things. She had forgiven me easily after our confrontation the night I left the penthouse. She said she had understood my anger and fear.
She tapped the button for the elevator doors from her desk as I walked in. “Welcome home Mrs. Preston. I hope your day went well.”
“Absolutely fabulously, Dorothy! How about you come upstairs later, and we can celebrate. Bring some champagne while you are at it!”
Dorothy nodded, “What would we be celebrating?”
“When you get upstairs, I’ll let you know,” I replied, walking into the elevator. As the door closed, I smiled, excited to tell Angelo the good news. I had kept it a secret from him for long enough, and now was the time for me to tell him. The elevators stopped, and Benny walked in, nodding at me.
“Madam.”
“Benjamin.”
“Going up?” He asked.
“Only way I know,” I replied.
He hit the button for the floor he would be stopping on and the elevator climbed until it got there. He stepped out, nodded at me, and walked away. I liked that he was not entirely fond of me, but he knew that Angelo loved me, and he respected me for it. It had gotten a lot better with time, and I was certain he was going to make a great uncle when the time came.
The doors opened to the floor that I had spent the best moments of my life on. It had undergone a few changes to ensure it did not look exactly like the den of a mafia kingpin anymore. A few colors to spruce things up, better drapes… A little woman’s touch had brought the entire floor to life. There was a lot of work to be done still, but for now, it was home.
“It is just like the first time you walked in here… Beautiful, graceful. The best thing I have ever laid eyes on.”
“Even after all of the time, we have spent together?” I asked, giving him a little spin.
“Especially after it all.” Angelo grabbed my waist and pulled me in for a kiss. I allowed myself to be taken in by his love, because I was completely in love with him.
I had doubted it in the beginning, I had doubted myself. I had no idea why, but being with Angelo had allowed me to see a side of myself that I did not know existed. I became more confident, more sure of myself. I loved the woman I had become, the woman who had doubted that she loved this mafia lord was long gone. All that was left was the wife of Angelo Preston, the man who controlled the city. It was more than I could ask for, and I was more than grateful.
“Maria, you are everything I could ever want and more.”
“Well, I am about to become much more than that,” I replied, reaching for the envelope in my bag.
The security alert blared to life and Angelo pulled away, reaching out to the desk to pick up the call coming from the ground floor. I heard Dorothy speak from through the intercom. “Sir, ma’am, we have a visitor. I don’t think it’s someone we’re friendly with. He has requested to see both of you, and we have vetted him, so he is completely safe. I think he has something he wants to say to you both.”
“Both of us?” Angelo asked, still getting used to the fact that we were going to be referred to as a couple.
We hurried into the elevator and took it all the way down. I watched Angelo sneak a gun into his jacket as we went down just in case we ran into some sort of trouble. It had been six months, and we were well past all the madness with Vasquez, but he was not the only threat we would ever face. There would always be others, those who would want to come for our power, and so we had to be ready for it all.
As the doors parted, we walked out and noticed the members of the family who were in the lobby. They did not have their guns pointed at the man, but I knew they were there, underneath their coats, waiting to be pulled free. The man would be shot to the ground the second he appeared to be some sort of threat. Benny walked up to him, questioning him, but we could not pick up on his replies from our distance. As we got closer, I saw his face and recognized him immediately.
“Johnny?”
“Maria, Mr. Preston.” Johnny turned to look at Angelo beside me. “Look, Maria, I know what you’re thinking right now, and I know I fucked up. I could have stopped all the madness, I could have helped you escape that night when you came to my home. But I was a part of Vasquez’s crew for so long, and if I had betrayed them, they would kill me. I couldn’t turn down a direct order like that. I’m so sorry, and I wish, more than anything, that you will find it in your heart to forgive me.”
I reached for him and took his hand. I had watched his face the entire time. Studied his countenance. Johnny was not a bad guy. He was just stuck in an unfortunate situation and had to do what he did to survive. The fact that I was on the receiving side was just an unfortunate haphazard. But he was here now, begging for forgiveness. “I understand Johnny, I get it, and I’m sorry you were in that situation. It’s okay.”
“I remember you. You were the one who worked for Vasquez, the man who refused to shoot us in the end. I tried to look for you afterward, checking the reports of those who they reported dead, but you weren’t among them. So, I guessed you fell off the radar, went on the run to save yourself. You did a brave thing, Johnny. You almost died, and in doing so, you saved my life. Both our lives, and I am eternally grateful for that.”
Johnny nodded, looking at both of us. He sniffled a bit and I saw the color of joy wash over his face. “There is something else, though.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“I was wondering if I could join your family. Since Vasquez is gone, I can offer my services and expertise in any way it’s needed.”
“Sure,” I replied. “As long as you are okay with it?” I turned to Angelo.
“Absolutely.”
We took the elevator and headed back to the loft upstairs. I turned around and hugged Angelo, “As I was saying, I received something in the mail today.”
“What is it?”
“A letter from the med school I applied to.”
“You applied at med school?” Angelo asked, shocked.
“Yes… I think it’s time I became Dr. Maria Preston, don’t you?”
“Wait, so what did the letter say?”
I smiled at him and kissed him. “It said yes. I’m in!”
A smile erupted across his face, and he pulled me in tightly, “Well, I think my current doctor is certainly in need of a break.”
“If you get yourself shot or hurt, just know that you’re paying full price,” I laughed.
“Yes, doctor… Though, perhaps we could come to some other kind of arrangement.” He grazed the side of my ear with his teeth and smiled seductively at me. “But more on that later. How about we go celebrate?”
I smiled back. “I’d love that more than anything.”
“Sometimes, I feel like if you treated me with a little more love, I’d be out of your hair, Maria.”
I looked down at the old man on the bed. He smiled innocently at me with his front teeth missing. “Sometimes, I feel if you stopped looking forward to the sponge baths you get here, you’d actually fully recover and off this machine.”
His smile went even wider. “I get bathed every day by beautiful women! Why would I want to leave? This is paradise!”
I ignored the man and finished checking on the dialysis machine next to him. He had been at Stan Merriweather Hospital for the last seven months and seemed to be getting worse by the day. I was amazed that he could keep a cheerful spirit, one that could even bring a smile to my gloomy heart. I finished with him and left the room, looking down at my watch. It was a few minutes until I completed my shift.
“Maria!” A voice at the end of the corridor called out to me. It was the head nurse, Vanessa Valeska. A woman whose sole purpose was to work me to the bone. I considered ignoring the woman and just walking away—my shift was over; I could just go home. Whatever it is I was needed, for now, I would have to deal with it the next day. “Maria Doyle, down the hall. I’m speaking to you!”
I whipped my red hair around to face her with a glum smile. “Sorry, I was distracted.”
“Well, snap out of it. A few patients along wing E have not gotten any attention. I have to head up to give a report to management, and the other nurses are busy in the south wing. If you have a minute, help me check on them and sort their reports, okay?”
I looked at my watch again and began to speak, “My shift ends—”
“I know, but are you really going to risk the lives of people because your shift is over?” I lowered my head. “I thought so.”
I picked up my pad and went through the rooms, checking on the patients. I had no choice but to do so, regardless of how much it annoyed me. If I refused to check on them, Valeska would ensure that my schedule the next day was packed with activities that served as some sort of sick punishment.
By the time I had finished, it was a full half-hour after the time I was supposed to head home. I had missed the bus which would have carried me to my stop, and now I would have to take a taxi. I hung up my lab coat and picked up my jacket, heading out into the streets outside. The frigid evening air struck me, reminding me why exactly I had worn the jacket to work. The flash of lightning above told of the impending rain.
Vanessa drove out of the parking lot in her car and looked over at me standing on the side of the building, waiting for a taxi. Without a word, the woman drove off.
“Bitch,” I said out loud. As much as I knew it wasn’t going to happen, a small part of me wished that Vanessa would grow a heart and offer me a ride, or maybe just offer me some kind words. But the woman was nothing of the sort and did everything she could to make sure people who ranked under her were reminded of their lower status in the hospital.
I considered the train station for a moment, as it would drop me off only a few blocks from my place, but from the hospital to the nearest station was too far for me to walk, and I was feeling exhausted. A taxi to my house would just cost too much, and I did not have much money. I sighed as I considered just walking home. I did not have work the next day, but it would probably take me until well past eleven to get home.
I would be able to see the city at night, take a stroll to clear my head, but the thought of stalkers and raping serial killers made me think otherwise. I walked towards the central street where I would have higher chances of finding a taxi. I pulled out my phone and considered calling my neighbor, Owen, to come to pick me up. He had a car, but he also had a girlfriend, and I was certain that they had had the talk more than a few times. I had even overheard her telling Owen that he was doing way too much for me. I had used his help more than enough times, so I decided I would have to make it home all by myself. I put the phone back in my purse as lightning illuminated the sky above me for a second.
The clouds gave out, and it began raining heavily. I swore, wondering if the world could not be any more against me. I was working a minimum wage job, trying to pay off my college debt and credit card debt, caring for my sick mother, struggling to make ends meet, and the weather decided to just take me out of it. I looked around for an open shop or an alcove where I could run into and hide, but all the stores around were closed and had boarded up their entrances to ward off robbers.
I spotted a taxi heading by and raised a hand to hail the vehicle to stop, but it drove by quickly, splashing water from the puddle which had formed in front of me, all over my already wet body. A cold shiver ran through me. The taxi had someone in it, and I could swear that Vanessa had probably sent it that way, just to spite me. I ran my fingers through my hair, tying it into a knot behind my head, trying to get it out of the way.
I heard the sound of a vehicle approaching, and I turned to see that it was not another taxi like I had expected. However, I did not notice that the vehicle had swerved up on the sidewalk that I was standing on. I turned just in time to see the headlights as the car slammed into me, knocking me onto the windshield of the vehicle before I bounced off and landed in a heap on the sidewalk. I groaned in pain as I felt my body going numb from the crash. I couldn’t feel my hand, and when I put some weight on it, I was hit with sharp pain.
The car drove off the sidewalk and got back on the road hastily. I managed to look up at the vehicle, watching as its driver gunned the car down the road, heading off. Just before the pain and exhaustion caused me to go unconscious, I managed to catch the number plate, saying it over and over in my head as the taillights receded. My photographic memory was one of the few things I was proud of, and it was time to put it to good use. I had to remember the plate’s number when I woke up… I just had to.
“Control one…control one…control…”
***
Angelo
Two cars arrived at the warehouse, with two others already parked and waiting. Many people liked to think that most of their dealings went on in abandoned or old warehouses, but there were only so many a city could have. I made it a rule to use warehouses that were still operational, just closed for the time I wanted to use them. I got out of the car and looked around, with lightning flashing overhead. I knew what I had come to do, and I was certain it was going to be a huge waste of time, but I was there because it is what my father would have wanted.
I adjusted the collar of my Armani suit as the lights of the Cadillac blinked twice behind me, locking shut. The son of Michael Preston, the former head of the south side mafia. But with only a few weeks since the man’s passing, I was forced to take up the mantle of my father and fill shoes that I had been groomed to fit since I was born. I had come to meet with Pete Vasquez, a longtime rival of my father, and a man who would do anything to take over the territories which I had gotten.
Vasquez was the head of the east side mafia, a ruthless gang that cared less about those under its jurisdiction and more about the territory that it controlled. Since the word got out that Michael was dead, Vasquez had moved quickly, sending his men to try to take out the competition. But I knew that he would be coming, and he had already made moves to secure their investments. Obviously, Vasquez had denied any involvement in the attacks and claimed to be a part of the larger mafia family that ran the city. But everyone knew what he wanted.
“Look, I don’t want you to be here either, but this is tradition and it’s what your dad would want. It’s what he would do, so let’s just get in there and talk things over, how about it?”
I looked over at Benny- the man was my best friend since high school, and I was more than grateful for this. Both our parents had been close, with his father being the personal physician of Michael. Benny was around for a lot of things, and in the end, he had become one of the first people that I had gotten on my crew. As time passed, Benny turned out to be my right-hand man, knowing it all and helping out with everything.
“How many men do we have here?”
“The gang’s here; we have two backups waiting just a few blocks out,” Benny replied.
“Good. Vasquez is a fucking asshole, and if he tries to pull a stunt, it might just be the last thing he does,” I replied. I looked over at the car where five men waited. They were all handpicked by me, the men I trusted the most. Each of them was willing to give up their lives for me and were adequate fighters.
Two stayed outside, and the other three followed me and Benny into the warehouse. It was some sort of mill that cut out sheets of metal. There were large blades and lots of sheet metal stacked around, along with rods, pipes, and other pieces of metal laid all around, and a laser cutter sat in the far back. The owner of the mill had fallen under my jurisdiction and had allowed me to use the place for the meeting. It was his own way of paying protection for the month, and I was fine with that.
Once a year, the two sides of the family would meet to discuss their new jurisdictions and routes, along with other business dealings that would allow the smooth operation of both sides of the family. The meeting for the year had already occurred, but since the death of my father, I knew that I had to take my own turn at it and explain how things would be under my leadership, showing that I was not afraid of Vasquez or any of his attacks. I would defend my regions with all my power and make sure I lost nothing.
“You’re late!” Vasquez yelled across the warehouse. His voice boomed across the large empty space.
“I came at the right time,” I replied with an even louder voice, walking up to Vasquez.
The man was a lot like me. We both had the same build – six feet tall, a strong jawline, and jet-black hair. But Vasquez was almost twenty years older than I was and had his hair slightly greying on the sides. He had kept it trimmed and fashionable, in a manner which I liked. It was probably the only thing about the man I could agree with. I shook his hand before we took a few steps back.
“Shame we did not get a chance to meet at the manor. I would have loved to have some of your fathers’ legendary wine. Is it true that they are from a vineyard he owns?”
“As much as I would like to answer that, we are not here to discuss the truth behind myths, Vasquez,” I said to him with a blank face.
“Oh yes, we are here to discuss your new temporary… What should I call it? Reign?”
“Excuse me?” I called out, frowning at the man.
“Well, I heard about the incidents at your clubs and liquor stores. Damn shame about all of those who were hurt.” Vasquez said with a laugh. “But honestly, boy, if this is how you are going to run your father’s empire, you might run it to the ground.”
“You better watch your words, Vasquez,” I replied, my face contorted with rage. Benny walked up beside me, knowing how aggressive I could get.
“You know when you were born, your father became a lot more aggressive. All the competition, he snuffed them out like a flame between his thumb and index. We began calling him the sculptor. Michelangelo. Because he made sure that everything he wanted, he got, exactly the way he wanted it. Instead of whining about it when it got hit by punks, who obviously had no stakes in the grand scheme of things.”
I pulled out my gun and pointed it at Vasquez, causing the east side men to pull out their guns as well. “Don’t fucking talk about my old man!”
“Well, who else am I supposed to compare a failure like you to?” Vasquez laughed and put his head against my gun, “Go ahead, pull the trigger, and show everyone what I know. You aren’t fit to run anything. You are just a spoiled brat, handed the keys to a car and your feet can’t even touch the pedals.”
I pulled the gun away and tucked it into my waistband as Benny touched my shoulder. “We are done here.”
“Was nice seeing you! Hope we get to do great things together!” Vasquez yelled to me as I walked out. Benny got into the driver’s seat as I got in behind him. Lightning flashed as the rain continued to pelt down on the car.
“You need to calm down, Angelo,” Benny began.
“Calm down? That fucker was making fun of me! He was making fun of my father, and I’m supposed to just relax? I understand how the families work, but we know he has some ulterior motive. We can’t just have that. We can’t!” I yelled, the memory of all the times in the past when Vasquez would try his best to undercut a deal from my father or order a hit on someone who was looking to do business with us. Vasquez was always looking to gain the advantage, and he did not care if he had to play dirty.
The sound of gunshots drew our attention towards the building we had just left. We turned just in time to see the other men get shot down in their vehicle. Before I could react, Benny hit the gas, sending us firing into the street, away from the gunfire. Vasquez sent his men to attack, and we had to get away before they got to us. Backup had not arrived, and we were outgunned.
Benny took a hard turn and climbed up on the sidewalk of the next street, fighting to maintain control of the vehicle in the rain. I heard something bump into the car. He held the brakes as we saw the side of a face and red hair bounce off the front windshield. He froze, realizing that he had just run into someone. Benny looked into the rearview mirror and saw that no other vehicles were on the street, and no one had seen them.
“Wait!” I yelled as Benny continued to drive.
“What?” Benny asked. “We stay, they’ll catch up. We have to go, now!”
Chapter Two
Maria
I moved skillfully through the kitchen, setting the bacon on the plate. Normally, it would have taken me two moves to get it from the pan to a plate, but with my right arm in a sling, I was forced to work with a single hand. However, I was still able to work quickly and managed to get the meal dished out in one piece. I moved it all to a tray and carried the tray on one hand, then I walked over to the adjoining bedroom in my house.
“You know, even though I never broke my arm, I had to serve meals with one hand sometimes, just to show that I could do it. But looking at you now, with just some bacon…”
“Oh, come on, Mom,” I cut in as she put the food down on the cabinet that served as a table for my mother.
“I’m just saying that I could do better,” the older woman replied from the bed. She attempted to sit up, and I reached for her with my good arm, but she slapped the hand away. “I have cancer. I’m not brain dead. Besides, what are you going to do, one-armed wonder?”
I shook my head and laughed; my mother was known for constantly teasing and berating people. It was something that she did for fun, but a lot of people did not understand and just called her the “grumpy grandma”. In truth, Candice Doyle was the most cheerful person I knew. After her husband had died, Candice worked through it, putting up a strong image of herself. We did not have much money, but we were able to live a fairly happy life, one in which she worked hard to ensure that I finished my education.
Even after cancer had hit, Candice still managed to keep her cheerful attitude. Her spirits were never dulled by anything, even the bills which we could no longer keep up with. Against her wishes, Candice still went out every day, looking for ways to make money, until cancer forced her to stay in bed. With her debt and my minimum wage job, I could not keep up with the medical expenses, and Candice knew this too, telling me on one occasion to stop getting the drugs to treat her. She had basically asked me to let her die, and she had done it with a smile on her face.
I would never understand the positive nature of my mother, where it came from, and how the woman could keep it in the face of impossible odds. I had lost my own positivity a long time ago as reality had smacked me in the face. The little which I had managed to save up looking to take care of Candice, had instead gone into treating my arm after the car accident. And now we were back to square one… But I was not going down without a fight.
“Oh yeah, an officer came by earlier. Said something about you calling him,” Candice began.
“Earlier?” I asked I had not left the house and we were having breakfast. “Earlier today?”
“No, I don’t… No, not today. Yesterday, I think. That was when you went to the grocery store, yes?”
I sighed. “Yeah. Thanks, Ma.”
I left the bedroom and went out to the balcony where I would take the call, away from the ears of my mother. As I stepped out, I spotted Carlos, the man from across the street who always took his time to say a kind word to everyone. I waved at him first, and he waved back.
“¿Cómo está tu madre?” Carlos yelled. “Your mother, how is she?”
“Madre está bien! Mom ‘s good… You?”
“The Superbowl is on!” Carlos yelled back, lifting his beer bottle before turning back to his radio.
I turned back to my phone and scrolled through the contacts to find the number that the police officer had given me. There was some fog on the screen of the flip phone, as water from the rain on the night I was hit had gotten into it. But thank God it was not badly damaged. I found the number and called.
I had woken up in a hospital the next day, picked up by a taxi driver who had come around the corner a second after the car that had hit me had disappeared. The driver picked me up and rushed me back to Merriweather, the same hospital I worked at. Once I was able to speak again, an officer was called in for me to talk to, and I had narrated the ordeal to him, with the main thing I recalled being the number plate of the car. It had CTRL1 written on it, and I took my time to make sure I remembered it since it was the only way to find who had done this.
“Hello? Officer Kensington?”
“Miss Doyle, hello. I came by yesterday and tried calling, but I couldn’t reach you.”
“Sorry, my mother just told me. How is it going?”
“Well, since you could not get the make of the car, we did run the plates through our system, and there were no matches. We checked with some of the top custom plate manufacturers, and there were no reports of plates like that either. I think our best bet is that the vehicle is not from the US; that’s why it’s not on our record. But I got word out for people to look out for the plates. If any officer spots it, we will find the person who hit you. Might just take some time.”
“I’m guessing you can’t tell me how long it would take?” I said, feeling the disappointment already.
“We wish we could work miracles like that. There is no telling. If I’m honest with you, I believe whoever has the vehicle is either gone, out of the state, or has already changed the plates to avoid detection. If they have enough money for a custom, they can get another one in an instant.”
“Thank you, officer,” I replied. “Call me if you get anything! You can always reach me here.”
“Of course,” Kensington replied. “Have a good day.”
I fell against the wall, letting out a breath of exhaustion. I had put a lot of hope on the fact that the police would find the bastard that had hit me. I was looking to press charges and get a settlement from the person. It was an expensive car, so obviously, the person would have some money. That money would help out around the house, get more meds for my mother, and cut down on some of our debt.
But now, the individual had most likely vanished into thin air. Now I was left with a fractured arm and a lot of bills that would be so exhausting for me to pay off. Living in debt was not something that I could do for much longer. I needed a break, a way to make more than the pennies I had. I wondered why they did not do the whole CCTV thing to find the vehicle. They would only have taken the case seriously if I had died. Without a murder on their hands, it seemed like they were just going to relax. I could not have that. I grabbed a note and walked over to my mother, taking away the dishes as she had finished eating. “Do you need anything, Ma?”
“You got that fountain of youth water? If not, leave me alone.” She said, trying to sound mean, though the smile on her face didn’t add to her role.
“Sure, I’ll be back in a bit,” I replied after rolling my eyes. “Take your medication!”
“Get me some cigarettes!” My mother yelled at me as she walked out.
“I will not be responsible for your death, Ma, love you!” Laughing, I left the house.
I walked down the stairs and began making my way down the street. I was given time off from work so I could heal, but I wasn’t taking it. I had only taken the day off so I could spend time with my mother. But once I was certain that there were no other injuries except for my arm, I would be back to work, despite the fact that Vanessa did not want me there. I did not want to be working with a broken arm, but I also needed money to buy food and support my mother.
Strolling to the end of the block, I went into an apartment building that was pretty similar to my own. I smiled at a buff guy at the entrance before I walked in, hoping that he was not going to be a problem. I made my way up the stairs and to the door, I was looking for. Someone was screaming inside the room, shouting at them to get cover. I sighed, realizing that the person who I had come to see was playing video games again. I banged against the door even louder, drawing his attention.
“Maria!”
“Hey, Johnny,” I replied, putting my good arm between myself and his hug, “Sorry, my arm.”
“Oh, damn shame! What happened?” Johnny replied. “Come in, come in!”
“Thanks.” I took a seat in the only chair that did not have clothes strewn over it. The house looked like a mess, with clothes everywhere and trash from takeout food piling beside the door. Johnny lived like a rat, but he was a very useful rat, one of the only ones in my entire block. We had both been friends since I moved in—he had helped my mother and I that day, and after a coffee, we had been close ever since.
“So, what happened? I don’t have any coffee, but I have a protein shake. You want that?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” I replied as he reached for a cup and began pouring. Then he stopped.
“Yeah, I think you’d rather not. I can’t tell if it was the caffeine or the lean I put in this, but it definitely would give you a kick you can’t handle.”
“Water is fine then,” I replied, nodding to one of the bottles of water which sat to the side of his gaming chair. He picked out one and passed it to me.
“So, the arm?”
“I got hit by a car,” I replied with a sour look.
“Damn shame… Broken?”
“Fractured. It hurt like a bitch for an entire week.”
Johnny perked up. “I got something for the pain.”
“If you are about to offer me your opioids, I’ll have to decline. I have my own pain meds.”
“Which you won’t supply me with. I mean I’m a dealer, and you are in contact with this stuff every day. Help me out, man!” Johnny replied with a big grin.
“You know my answer to that,” I replied.
“Whatever. So, what do you need help with?” Johnny asked, ruffling up his hair before looking at his hands.
“I got the plates on the car that hit me. I spoke to the police, but they don’t seem too keen on putting in the effort to find the guy who did this to me.”
“Alright, I got some guys who can help check that out. We can get your results in two, maybe three days, but it’ll cost you. I’m going to need a favor from you at some point, and I don’t want you backing out when I come to you.”
My shoulders dropped, “Come on, Johnny, you know how I feel about doing illegal stuff.”
“But you are fine with letting me do it for you, huh? Double standards all over the place with you folks.”
“Fine, I’ll owe you. But try as much as you can to make sure I don’t have to do something which would get me in trouble because I cannot have that… At all!”
“Whatever. Gimme’ the digits.”
“Control One,” I replied.
“What?”
“Like on the computer. C-T-R-L-1.”
“No, I heard you the first time. Are you sure that is the car that hit you?” Johnny asked, with his face locked in shock.
“Well, yes. Because I had my entire face up against the plates, so yeah. I made sure to memorize it before I passed out.”
“Yo, sorry, darling. I can’t help you out here.”
I frowned. “You haven’t even tried. Just get it to your people. I’m sure they can find the person. You said they do stuff like this; it was an expensive car too.”
“A Cadillac, yeah. But trust me on this one, Maria, you don’t want to deal with any of this.”
“So, you know who it is?”
“Yeah, I do. Listen, I can’t help you. Even if I wanted to, I would be in too much trouble.”
“No one is going to know that it was you, and all I want is some money from him. I’m broke, Johnny, and you know the situation with my mom. I have to get treatment for her, and now I have extra medical expenses over my head with this accident. I can’t deal with all of this. I need the money. I could just talk to him, not even go to court, just see if he is willing to go for a settlement, anything that could just help me out,” I pleaded.
Johnny stood up. “Maria, this guy is a monster. You do not want to get on his bad side, you got me? If you go to him telling him that you don’t want to have to take him to court, threatening him, not only would you lose, he would make you disappear. You do not want his money or anything to do with him. I understand how things are, I get it. But as a friend who knows this part of the world better than you, take me up on this one: drop it.”
“But Johnny, I…”
“Drop it, Maria. For your mom’s sake, too.”
I got to my feet, sealing the bottle of water, “You know I am doing everything I can to make sure that I have a home, and I thought you’d understand as a friend, I thought you’d want to help me! You come to me with cuts, and I stitch you up. Now that I’m the one who is at your front door, bleeding, you won’t even hand me a band-aid,” I said, feeling my disappointment growing. I was determined to find whoever this guy was, but no one seemed willing to help. “It’s fine, I see how it is now. Thanks for telling me the make of the car. I got something else I can give the cops.”
I walked out of the building, fuming. Who was in the car that had made Johnny so scared? Whoever it was, they were powerful enough that a street drug dealer did not even want to utter their name. I considered calling the officer and giving him the description of the black Cadillac, but that would not do much. So, I decided to consider Johnny’s warnings, regardless of how angry they made me. He lived a dangerous life, and if he warned me of something that scared him, I certainly had to heed his warning. It did not mean that I would let it go. I was going to find out who the man that had scared Johnny so badly was. I’d find the bastard who had hit me with his car and hadn’t bothered to see if I was still alive.
My wedding dress is the most spectacularly stunning thing that I have ever seen in my life. It’s cut off the shoulders, with a heart-shaped neckline. The bodice is corseted and fit snug just below my waist. The white lace is thick over my breasts to keep things modest, but it turns sheerer to accentuate the flowers embroidered through the body and the top layer of the skirt that explodes out from the bottom of the fitted torso, and out in a ballroom style over my legs. However, it’s the daring slit up the side where my left leg is visible that I love the most. Just enough to flash Nikolai a hint of leg, get him all riled up before the ceremony actually starts. Just the way that I like him.
My hair is done up in a low bun at the nape of my neck, loose waves have been pulled throughout to soften the lines of my face with chandelier-style earrings. I wear no other jewelry besides my engagement ring. My veil is fastened into my bun, heavy, but I’m managing well enough. My heels are short, but I could have been wearing platforms and I still would not be anywhere near Nikolai’s height. The very inner layer of the skirts is a soft pastel pink made of satin that feels divine as it brushes against my bare legs. I didn’t want to wear all white, it just didn’t feel right, all things considered. It is just enough.
I run my hands down the bodice. I keep waiting for the nerves to settle in, but they don’t. I don’t have any regrets; I don’t have cold feet but I always thought that somehow it was supposed to settle in right about now. We have invited limited guests to our wedding, mostly just his hired men and a couple of my friends from Vegas who just assume that Nikolai is some rich oil tycoon, or a sugar daddy, or some foreign model. They have different, crazy theories that they run past me every now and then and I always make sure to agree to each and every one. They are mostly just here so that my side of the lawn isn’t totally empty. The only person that I really care about is the man waiting for me at the end of it all.
In just a few more minutes, it’s going to be official. I will be Anya Volkovich.
I can’t get the smile off of my face.
It feels like closure and a new beginning all at once. Ending a chapter, or rather closing a whole book on the life of when I was Anya Griffith and letting her go. I am writing a new story as Anya Volkovich. My new thick lashes brush against the tops of my cheeks as I close my eyes and breathe deeply to let everything really sink in.
When I open my eyes again, Nikolai is standing in the doorway, looking at me looking at myself in the full-length mirror. “Damnit!” I gasp and nearly knock the mirror over as I jerk away from the sight. “Get out of here!”
“You cannot tell me what to do.” Nikolai rolls his eyes, confidently strolling into the room, one hand in his pocket. He pops the knuckles on his other hand with his fingers, one at a time as he advances on me. “Tell me something, Anya, when the priest gets to the part of the ceremony where he says that you are to honor and obey…what are you going to say?”
“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding! I’m in my dress and everything!” I back away from him, and snatch a decorative couch cushion from the nearest couch to pull in front of my body, not that it’s doing any good.
“Bad luck, Pah.” Nikolai spits at the floor to banish my mention of bad luck as he snatches the pillow from my hand and throws it forcefully back to the couch. “We have had quite enough bad luck for one lifetime, don’t you think?”
His fingers encircle my wrist and he yanks me forcefully to him, and I crash into his chest. Both hands flatten out over the crisp white fabric of his oxford shirt as he smirks at me.
“See, what I am thinking is that you have pulled some trick…or attempted to bribe the poor priest out of saying that part. Do you think that you will not have to obey me?” He lowers his face closer to mine. “Being my wife only means that I shall have more tools at my disposal than ever to get you to obey my every desire.”
I scoff. “Bribery? Me?”
“You made the priest cry…he came to me to express some reservations about your purity.” His smirk spreads into a full-out grin. “I admit, I did laugh when he implied that you were pure in any way. Do not worry, I have informed him of all of the ways that I have personally corrupted you. Now we might have to have Ivan marry us.”
He looks far too proud of himself as he walks me backward to the nearest wall. I feel my shoulders collide solidly with the wall, and logically I should move. I should try to get away because I’m far too easily trapped by him like this.
“You sound way too proud of yourself. Besides, Ivan cannot marry us — he’s walking me down the aisle.”
“He can do both.” Nikolai shrugs.
“No, he can’t. Get out of here right now, and go apologize to that poor holy man.”
“Soon,” he says ominously, and his nose brushes mine. I can’t even pretend to be mad that he’s snuck in here. “I have corruption to attend to first.”
Nikolai nearly kisses my teeth I’m smiling so big. “You still haven’t told me just what I’m supposed to expect from a mafia wedding anyway.” I giggle.
Nikolai answers while trailing kisses down the side of my neck, focusing on that spot where my neck meets my clavicle that makes my knees buckle and my toes curl, until I’m clinging to him breathlessly.
“It is much the same as any other wedding…just a lot more vodka and tattoos.”
He pauses for a moment, his hand grabbing mine so he can brush his thumb over the now healed tattoo covering my entire hand and the majority of my arm. Some of the ink I had gotten to match Nikolai’s after we had signed our first property documents together. Others we had gotten in promise to one another, and some were to commemorate the union of our families. Then I had gotten away with connecting the rest of them.
“You will fit right in now, do not worry there.”
“I’m not worried,” I answer. Apart from the half sleeve I have managed to acquire over the past few months, I have also added another much smaller tattoo to my collection. A small set of tally marks on the back of my hip to commemorate the years that my mother has been dead. I entered into this strange relationship unblemished and now I’ve got enough ink to pass for any of the guests in attendance. I love it. Fitting into Nikolai’s world has been so much easier than I ever imagined that it could be. Not even just because Nikolai threatened to maim anybody who gave me any shit either.
Those few men that came from my father’s old empire vowed their loyalty to me easily and proved it to Nikolai. The dissonance caused by Elias and my father left a lot of people in search of guidance, needing somebody to look up to. Nikolai is that person, a natural-born leader.
One who serves nobody but me.
Nikolai’s lips resume their trail down my neck, his teeth closing over my sweet spot, and I gasp. He’s going to mark me before we even have a chance to walk down the aisle if he keeps that up. “Enough,” I gasp, pushing at his chest. He doesn’t budge. “There will be plenty of time for that later,” I laugh. “Forever, really, you’re supposed to wait until tonight at least!”
“I am not a patient man, Anya, you know this — besides, I’m hungry now — and you look divine.”
Desire pulsates through me, sending fire to every piece of me. He looks up at me darkly and lowers himself to one knee in front of me. I can’t deny him anything when he looks at me like this. His calloused hand wraps around my ankle, scraping his tough skin up the softness of my calf, and further, until he cups his hand behind my knee and bends it up to rest on his shoulder. The slit in my skirt comes in just as handy as I thought that it might, as his hands trace the muscles in my thighs and up to my hips; where he finds no opposition for him to remove, no fabric to get between us other than the layers of skirt. His smile turns positively feral, and I lose all desire to fight him. Not when I know what is coming.
His handsome head disappears from my view, the layers of fluffy skirt blocking the beautiful display as he places a kiss on the inside of my knee, chasing the soft sensation away with the sharp sting of his teeth. Again, and again as he travels his way up the inside of my thigh. I have nothing to hold onto, no leverage offered by the walls around me as I teeter on one leg, wholly at his mercy. I try to gather some of the skirts up in my hands, but it is of no use.
I end up with fistfuls of fabric, and I cling to them as he kisses the strained muscle where my thigh meets my hips.
He teases a trail toward my center, his tongue paying special attention to anywhere but where I want him most. My head falls heavily back to the wall, and I desperately wish that I could tangle my hands up into his hair and force him to my center.
I grunt in frustration as he deliberately bites the inside of my other thigh, and I can feel his short chuff of laughter against my skin — and then he parts me with his tongue and I nearly fall.
I wobble on my leg, and sag further into the wall so that I can push my hips as close to his face as possible, his wonderful tongue exploring, delving deeper with delicious sensations that curl my toes. He pushes his tongue inside of me, replacing it with two fingers that slip easily inside of me as he finally shifts upward to my overly needy clit.
“There, yes, please,” I pant as he flicks his tongue over me.
It’s not enough, I need more…I want everything. He’s moving too slow and it’s driving me crazy. The small jolts of pleasure have me jerking awkwardly. “Nikolai, please.” I try to press his face forward using my skirts, but I can’t get quite enough pressure. “Please!” I beg, and he finally relents. He swirls his tongue around my center, and a pleased moan tears its way from my throat. Any lingering tension in my body melts away.
He does such wonderfully sinful things with his tongue. His fingers pump inside of me, finding an easy rhythm that I want him to quickly replace with my favorite appendage of his.
I’m close, so close — I can feel the heat building in my core and spreading the warmth through to my fingers and toes. My vision starts to blur and I’m putty in his hands. I start to slide downward; my legs can’t hold me up. I’m about to buckle, lost in sensation when Nikolai catches me. He knows my body almost better than I know it myself. He’s pushed me to limits and beyond them countless times now.
Warm, tattooed hands grab me by my thighs and I’m sliding back up the wall as he deftly pushes his way between my thighs until I’m pinned between the bulk of him and the wall. My thighs stretch comfortably to accommodate him as he undoes the front of his black slacks.
My eyes cross as he pushes up inside of me. I can taste myself on his fingers as he covers my mouth with his tattoo-covered hand.
“Careful, or they are going to hear you,” Nikolai warns.
I can’t find it within me to care, not now. I grasp his upper arms, feeling the muscle tense under my holds as his forehead falls to my shoulder. I love feeling the way his arms and back move. Such a handsome, strong man and he’s all mine. I can’t stop my breathless smile as he drives into me, over and over — consumed by need and lust. Mine. More than anything I have ever thought was mine in my life, Nikolai is mine and I am his.
Husband and Wife, leaders of a powerful Bratva empire.
Nikolai’s teeth close over my shoulder, a growl of self-control building as his pace becomes erratic. “I guess you like my dress?” I pant, Nikolai nods into my shoulder, and bites me again — I yelp in surprise which only spurns him harder as we chase climax.
“You look beautiful,” he agrees, his voice dark and sensual. “You just needed a final touch, something new.” he winks and if he didn’t feel so fucking good, I might roll my eyes, but the friction is building and I feel like I’m floating.
“There,” I mutter, barely even a word on my lips as my eyes shut as my orgasm rips through me. All I can do is hold on until the end of the waves. Each time with my soon-to-be husband is better than the last. Nikolai kisses me on the corner of my mouth, and I capture his lip between my teeth, greedily holding on as he cums inside me. Damned primal bastard always has to mark his ownership of me. I stopped minding a long, long time ago.
He kisses me slow, and soft. His lips pressed against mine with a languid brush of his tongue over my fuller bottom lip, letting the last waves of our orgasm rock through us both before he leaves me, and slowly lowers me back down to my feet. I almost tell him not to. My legs feel like jelly.
“Clean yourself up,” Nikolai tucks himself away and straightens his shirt, tucking the tails back into the slacks with a wink. “We have a wedding to get to.”
Going home should make me feel good but instead, I’m filled with dread. Snowflakes pound my windshield as I race down the treacherous streets, but I don’t care. There is no visibility in these conditions, but it doesn’t matter to me. All I can see in front of me is the red haze of my anger.
The moment I reach my expansive estate on the outskirts of Moscow; I careen through the open gates and slam the brakes of my car. As the tires screech and skid, I grimace and throw open the door. Stepping outside, the snow crunches beneath my boots as I storm toward my house. Every step sends my blood pulsating more quickly around my body. I can’t ignore the ache in my heart, but I have something more important to focus on right now.
Destruction.
Throwing open the door to my home, I catch the scent of her perfume lingering in the air which proves to be the fuel that stokes the fire of my rage. I tear off my coat and gloves, ripping them from my body, in the same way, I would love to strip away her life. In the process, I manage to tear a huge hole in my Armani shirt; it means nothing to me. I can’t contain myself.
With tunnel vision, I slam my fist into a priceless piece of art that hangs on the wall. It clatters to the ground with a tremendous crash, and I revel in the destruction of it. Money means nothing in comparison to the ferocity of my rage. Every sinew in my body is flooded with white-hot wrath. Stepping over the painting, I head to the room where I’m sure I will find her.
I only pause for a moment when I reach my bedroom. Peering through the crack in the door, I freeze at the sight of her. Just like I thought, she’s inside. The room is a mess, clothing, and makeup strewn across the bed and floor. The drapes blow at the open double doors that lead onto the balcony. It’s unusually light and airy for a home that usually feels like it is filled with darkness.
Rushing around like a bee trapped in a jar, she’s frantically stuffing clothes into a large suitcase on the bed. God, I almost forgot how insanely beautiful she is. Her long dark hair cascades around her shoulders, tumbling in gentle curls around her face. Her petite frame is stiff with tension as she runs from the closet to the bed, depositing all her belongings into the small case.
Gulping, I study her slender curves with my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to soak in her image for one final time.
I can’t wait any longer. I need to act. I kick open the door fully and march through the doorway in a fit of pique. A gasp escapes her lips as she sees me, her eyes widening in fear.
She still looks every inch the high-maintenance bitch she always was. Garbed in her deep purple designer dress, she is the perfect picture of a sophisticated woman, but she’s not; inside, she’s rotten, and I have to remember that.
“Nikolai,” she rasps. My name tumbles from her lips in a deluge of terror. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
Narrowing my eyes, I scowl. “I’ll bet,” I hum frostily.
As I take another step, she grabs a gun from the bed and levels it at me. “Don’t come any closer,” she warns me. “I mean it.”
Completely ignoring the gun and her warning, I continue to saunter forward. I laugh aloud at her threats. The worst that she can do is shoot me, and I don’t care if she does. A bullet to the heart won’t be as painful as what I’ve endured over the past few days.
Glowering coldly at her, I glide forward, getting close enough to snatch the trembling weapon right out of her unsteady fingers. I smirk when she startles; she clearly didn’t anticipate my audacity. I guess she never really knew me at all.
She’s shaking so vigorously now, she wouldn’t have been able to fire straight even if she’d kept the gun. With a growl, I toss the gun across the room, laughing as it hits the far wall with a satisfying crack.
“There’s nowhere to run now,” I snap, my words dripping with vitriol. “All your lifelines are gone.”
Her entire body stiffens with tension, giving me a sense of satisfaction. That is all she deserves.
Fucking bitch.
My pulse thrums at my temples as I study her, caressing every curve with my gaze. I want to commit her to memory so that I can warm myself with thoughts of what I used to have, once she is dead and gone.
I don’t need to announce my reasoning for being there. Without saying a word, I can tell that she’s more than aware of it. The abject fear that lurks behind her dark eyes and the almost imperceptible tremble in her hands conveys her awareness.
“Nikolai,” she gasps again as I prowl toward her, cowering under my harsh stare. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Chuckling darkly, I shake my head. “I highly doubt it,” I hiss coldly. “But why don’t you enlighten me?”
Her throat bobs and I can almost smell the fear radiating off of her body. “You believe this is all my fault. You’re wrong though. I didn’t want to do it but he deserved it, Nikolai,” she babbles, her hysteria reaching a crescendo. “But you need to know that I never meant to hurt you.”
“Was that just an unfortunate consequence?” I demand with a scowl.
She licks her lips and turns to face me fully, but she doesn’t answer my question. Instead, a single tear trickles down her cheek. No doubt it’s a ploy to evoke sympathy, but my heart turned cold the moment I realized the truth about her. The power she once wielded over me has long since evaporated, and all that’s left are the ashes of what we used to share.
She reaches out a hand, but I instantly bat it away, coiling my fingers around her wrist. Squeezing so tightly that I hear her gasp, I stare at her with abject disgust.
“You used me,” I accuse her harshly. “You took your chances and you used me.”
Her eyes widen. “No,” she protests heatedly, wincing as my grip tightens on her wrist. “I didn’t use you. What we had was real.”
Scoffing, I shake my head. Just another lie. I wonder how many lies she’s spewed since the first time she crawled into my bed like a viper. All that time she was just waiting for the right moment to strike, and I was so blinded by her charms I didn’t notice. But the veil has lifted now, and I see the stark reality of her true nature.
Tugging her flush against me, I breathe in her tantalizing scent. Even now, she’s still so tempting, but I wouldn’t fuck her with a ten-foot pole after what the bitch did.
She’s achingly beautiful, her stunning features belying her cold rotten heart. It hurts me to even look at her as I recall all the times that she fooled me with those effortless charms. I tumbled into the silken web she weaved, and I hate her for it. All she deserves now is to endure the same suffering that she’s put me through. A thrill races through me at the thought of her vibrancy draining from her, just as she’s ripped everything away from me.
It would be so easy to end her right now. I could simply wrap my hands around the pale, slender column of her throat and squeeze every drop of life from her. I have never killed a woman before, and I don’t know if I could; but after what she’s done, I would surely be justified.
For several seconds, I luxuriate in the feel of her body, remembering how her curves feel. Then, without warning, I toss her against the wall like the piece of trash that she is. Landing awkwardly on the ground with a thud, she gazes up at me, silently imploring me to let her go, but we both know how this story is going to end.
“Seven months,” I rasp, towering over her prone form. “You conned me for seven fucking months, and you laughed during every moment of it.”
Scrambling around on the ground she manages to right herself. Her chest heaves and her back is against the wall as I come closer.
“No, you don’t understand,” she says, terror lacing her words. “It’s not like you think. I had to do it.”
“Oh?” I sneer, chuckling humorlessly. “You had to do it?”
She nods, a tremble coursing through her. “He deserved it. I know that you can’t see it but it’s true.”
My jaw clenches. “All I see is your betrayal, you little bitch.”
Her eyes darken and swirl with a maelstrom of emotions. Most of all, I see pure fear and it’s like a drug to me. I crave that gratification.
“It’s not my fault,” she splutters. “Griffith made me.”
Her denials boil my blood, sending my ire up another notch. I’m almost shaking with the intensity of my rage now.
“You made your choices,” I remind her. “No one else did, only you. I trusted you. I took you into my bed and I gave you everything you wanted. I dressed you in the finest clothes, took you to the most exotic places. We were going to be married, I showed you parts of me that I never showed to anybody else, and you stabbed me in the back like a beautiful Brutus.”
“No, no, that’s not the way it was,” she pants.
My pain bubbles to the surface and I swallow hard, my throat dry and rough. “That’s exactly the way it was,” I counter, shaking with anger. “I trusted you, gave you everything!”
My pain threatens to choke me for a moment before I contain myself. Rage is the only emotion that will suit me here.
“You exploited it, exploited me.”
“Please, Nikolai, just listen to me!” she begs, turning those glistening dark eyes to me. They used to make me melt, now, they elicit nothing but a scowl.
Tears start to flow freely down her cheeks, reddening her pale skin. She’s never looked more pathetic than she does right now. Steeling myself against her attempts to soften me, I allow my fury to unleash itself.
“I don’t want to hear it,” I snap, narrowing my eyes. “Nobody made you do it.”
Shaking her head wildly, she howls, “No! If it weren’t for Griffith, I would never have done it. He’s to blame! You need to believe me, Nikolai.”
“I don’t need to do shit!” I exclaim icily. “You’re a worthless, traitorous little bitch and I don’t want to hear another damn word come out of your rotten mouth.”
Standing over her, I plant my arms on either side of her body. She’s backed up against the wall as far as she can. She seems to shrink as I tower over her. The powerful, confident woman I knew has been replaced with a shuddering girl who knows her end is approaching.
Once, I would have kissed her cherry lips, now, I want to give her the kiss of death. I don’t know whether I could do it, not after everything we shared. Already, I’m mourning the thought of her demise in my heart, even as my head celebrates it. But my doubts do not suppress my craving for blood. I want to unshackle all my rage, and she is my target.
A sharp breath passes between her lips. “Please, Nikolai” she begs me one more time. “If you have any mercy, try to understand.”
“You really don’t know me at all, do you? Do you think that I’m a merciful man? Have I ever shown mercy?” As she shakes her head, I cup her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Then why would I show mercy to you?”
“We had something special,” she says, licking her dry lips. “If you ever felt anything for me, please, just let me go.”
For a moment, I tilt my head and stare into her eyes. She’s always had such expressive eyes, and an animated face. Even the Dutch masters couldn’t have done that face justice in their finest paintings. Perhaps that’s why she blinded me so easily. Every man is a fool for a pretty face. But I’m her fool no longer, and I can’t let her go. Wordlessly, I lower my lashes to stare at her plump lips and I lean down to brush my mouth against hers. The sweet taste of her which I used to revel in, is acrid, and bitter now. As I pull back, I smile coldly.
“There will be no mercy,” I assure her.
My words seem to seep through her mind, eliciting a new wave of fear. With an abrupt show of courage, she suddenly shoves me back. I didn’t expect it and I stumble slightly. Oh, she doesn’t know it only incites me more. She’s playing with fire as if she wants to get burned. Eyes flashing with terror, she darts away from me and rushes toward the other side of the room, just out of my reach.
Like the predator I am, I prowl toward her, matching every step she takes away from me. Her hands are raised in surrender, but I refuse to accept her white flag. Grasping one of the drapes, she backs onto the balcony, and I know I have her cornered now.
We both know I’m playing with her before I take my final blow. Still, she doesn’t seem resigned to her fate, I’m glad that she has enough courage to resist me. It makes it that little bit sweeter.
As she creeps backward onto the balcony, we stare at each other in silence; the loudest silence I’ve ever experienced, rich with unsaid words. Suddenly, she takes another step back and hits the railing behind her. My eyes widen as I see her stumble and before I know what’s happening, she tumbles over the rail. Her piercing scream splits the air and I rush forward, in time to see her hit the ground below with a thud. Blood pools around her head, and I know that she’s gone.
For several moments, I stare at her twisted body on the distant ground below. Karma. The universe has delivered her ultimate punishment for her sins. Her final expression is one of pain, but I can’t deny that she deserves everything she’s gotten. Betrayal is something I don’t take lightly. There’s a tiny part of me that laments the loss, but I swiftly suppress it, reminding myself of the horror she committed against me. There’s a melancholy irony to her fate, as she truly makes the most beautiful corpse I have ever seen.
Suddenly, I recall the name she uttered before her death. Griffith. It’s not a name that I’m familiar with, but I was so engorged by rage that I didn’t pause to consider it when it left her lips. Now, in my silent solitude, I have the time and space to really mull it over. So, it wasn’t her alone that came up with the plan? Well, this is not over then.
Numb to every emotion but fury, I growl quietly. “I suppose there is one more person I need to exact my revenge upon,” I mutter as I turn to leave the bedroom.
There is nothing left for me here in Moscow, I know it’s the right time to go. I will do whatever I need to do in my quest to destroy those who plotted against me. My wrath will know no limits. I have already cut a swathe of bloodshed in my wake, and it will never end until I have crushed those that deserve it. The world should watch out; I am not a man of mercy.
All that matters now is vengeance.
And I will not pause until I have my fill.
Chapter Two
Anya
The night is just getting started, and music thrums throughout the busy club. As I sit at my table, surrounded by my friends, I stare at the vibrant dancefloor and watch the revelers enjoying the night. As far as nightclubs go, I think that the Haven is pretty nice. My father acquired it some years ago, as yet another way for him to launder his money, and avoid paying any of his taxes. It plays the same upbeat tempo music as any. The sort of dark, seedy place that encourages a person to drink far too much and grind on whatever body is closest to them.
Presently, I’m taking advantage of being the owner’s daughter, shamelessly enjoying bottle service in the roped-off, elevated VIP section of the club. Sipping on the glass of champagne in my hands, I want to make it last. I’m not getting buzzed tonight. Unlike my friends, I want to remember my evening tomorrow morning. If anything, I just want to get intoxicated enough to dance the rest of the night away, and not have to deal with the burn in my legs. That’s why I enjoy skipping high heels on a night like this; when all my friends are barefoot and staggering, I will enjoy comfort in my flats. Ignoring the dress code is another perk that I enjoy.
Out of all the clubs and businesses that my father owns, I like Haven the best. Perhaps it’s the younger crowd, or the open floor plan — or the fact that it’s located right on the Strip. Gambling doesn’t appeal to me, but there is never a shortage of washed out, nearly broke finance guys who lost too much money and need to wash away their sorrows. My friends always say those are the best men because they want to prove to their women that they are still worth something, continuing to spend their money recklessly. My friends tend to have very, very expensive tastes.
We’re an eclectic group, but it works somehow. I certainly stick out when compared to the others. Marina and Allison down on the dance floor, surrounded by men all competing for their attention, will go home tonight with whoever has the most money; while I sit here and admire the whole thing from afar. We all met in college, and logically we should have drifted apart, perhaps that’s yet another part of the magic. Once you find friends, you tend to keep them.
Las Vegas is the place where people come to make their dreams come true, and I love living here. I don’t know how long I’ll stay though. I’m not the kind of girl to settle down. I’ve never liked being limited to a single setting, and travel exhilarates me. But in the time that I’ve lived here, I can’t deny I feel at home in Vegas. It’s easy to get lost in the crowds in this city, and that suits me more than anyone realizes. It’s impossible to run out of things to see or do, impossible to get bored even if you tried; especially, if you have high-energy friends like mine. Not that they are talking to me right now. They haven’t said much to me this evening at all. My friends are submerged in their conversations, but I prefer to scan the crowds and enjoy the moment.
“Hey,” my friend, Rick, says. “We’re out of champagne.” He turns the bottle upside down and shakes out a few droplets while pouting at me.
Rising to my feet, I shrug. Sometimes comments like that make me think they are only my friends because my father owns the most popular nightclub on the strip.
“I’ll go down to the bar and order another bottle,” I tell him, raising my voice to be heard over the music as it vibrates through my body. It’s a good excuse to get up and take a walk. I’m not one for sitting down for long. I feel too energized for that.
Without waiting for an answer from Rick, I descend the steps that lead down to the main floor and bob my head at the bouncer. He lifts the red velvet rope that cordons off the VIP section and I breeze past him, heading toward the bar.
Bodies throb and writhe next to me, almost knocking me off of my feet as I push past them. Sometimes, it feels good to be anonymous among a crowd of strangers. I wonder what sort of impressions the strangers must have of me. I people-watch enough to come up with elaborate backstories for just about everybody that I pass easily, and I’ve always wondered if they do the same for me. Do they think I’m a tourist? Are they jealous? Do they think that Rick is some undercover cop and we’re here on a sting operation?
I smile to myself at the insane notion. As if my father would ever allow cops into one of his clubs.
As I continue to weave my way through the crowd, I pass by two young women. A pale redheaded girl is almost at the point of tears as she stares up at a curvaceous blonde. Frowning, I study the pair, I can tell something is going on; especially when the blonde glares scathingly at the redhead, stealing the drink from her hand.
“Do you really think that dress makes you look good?” the blonde woman shrieks nastily, scowling at the redhead’s gray ensemble. Her hands drift over her own bubblegum-pink gown.
I don’t like to pass judgment on people I don’t know, but if I were making up a history for her – it would be a nasty one.
“God, you didn’t dress well when we were in high school, and you still have no fashion sense. You make me want to barf.”
The blonde laughs and drinks from the glass in her hand then makes a face as if the drink that she’s stolen isn’t at all to her taste. “This is disgusting, here, have it back.” The blonde says before upending the drink all down the redhead’s front, staining her pretty dress.
My breath hitches in my chest as I watch the redhead duck her head, trying to hide the moisture on her cheeks. A pang of sympathy pierces me. Though I don’t know what’s going on, I can identify a bully when I smell one. I cannot let that go. Not here, not in my father’s club. Hell, I wouldn’t let that go no matter where we were. I wasn’t raised to be the sort of person who sees something like that and walks away from it. I cannot stand to see someone be a victim. I can’t count the number of times my friends told me not to meddle, but I simply can’t help myself.
Stepping up to the pair, I pull my tailored blazer from my shoulders, leaving me in my black crop top. I’m small, and the redhead was blessed with curves that I don’t have, but it should fit her well enough to cover the mess from the drink. My eyes dart from one to the other as I give her my jacket to cover up.
“Leave her alone,” I say, staring fiercely at the blonde-haired woman.
Instantly, she snaps her head to face me. If looks could kill, I’d be a corpse. She snorts at me, her eyes narrowing. “This isn’t your business, bitch,” she retorts. “So, why don’t you scuttle away, back to wherever you came from?”
I look at her incredulously, my eyebrow lifting. Refusing to be cowed by her, I shake my head. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” I shoot back. “This is my dad’s club, so I have a little authority here. Now, this is how it’s going to go. You’re going to leave this girl alone or I’m going to call security, and they’ll make you leave. I promise you; it won’t be pretty.”
I can tell this chick wants to fight, but instead, she huffs and glances at her victim. “You’re pathetic,” she sneers at the both of us. “You are not worth my time anyway.”
I scoff, mocking her. “Well as I don’t think your time, or you for that matter, are worth that much, to begin with – I’m not insulted.” I lift my shoulder into an arrogant shrug.
“She’s worth a lot more than you ever will be,” I tell blondie with a scowl. “Does it make you feel superior when you act like that? Well, you’re not. You’re insecure and pathetic and you have to tear other girls down to build yourself up. Get a grip.”
“Whatever,” the blonde snaps, rolling her eyes as she shimmies away, her hips swaying.
Once she’s gone, I turn to the young redheaded woman and give her a smile of solidarity. “Are you alright?” I ask in concern.
She nods. “Yeah,” she whispers, just loud enough for me to hear her over the pounding music. “I knew her back in high school and she made my life hell for four years. I didn’t expect to run into her here,” she tells me, swiping a hand across her face.
“I always say that high school never ends. When they’re a bitch in high school, they’re a bitch out of it.”
She gives me a small grin, and I’m glad I brought a smile to her face; it’s far better than tears.
“Thanks for that,” she tells me, awe in her voice. “And this too,” She nods down to the jacket. “You probably just saved my evening. You were amazing. I wish I could handle myself like that.”
With a shrug, I feel a blush heat my cheeks. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad that I could help.” I clasp her hand and squeeze it gently. “Go enjoy your night. Actually, you see Ernie behind the bar? Tell him Anya sent you for a free pick-me-up drink.” I wink at her and she smiles sweetly at me before she dissolves into the crowd.
Stuffing my hands into the pockets of my skinny jeans, I sigh. I wonder how people can act the way that this bully did. I guess I’ll never understand, how somebody can make themselves feel superior by tearing another person down. I’ve spent my life living in a bubble of security and I’ve never needed to make myself feel superior like that.
I head over to the bar and order another bottle of Dom Perignon. Luckily, the bartender easily recognizes me, and I don’t have to pay. I suppose that’s one of the many perks of being the boss’s daughter, though it’s not something I exploit if I can help it.
The bottle firmly clasped in my hand, I make my way back toward the VIP section. Then again, what’s the point in being Peter Griffith’s only daughter if I can’t indulge in the perks every once in a while?
Just as I’m on the right side of the rope, my thoughts are interrupted. I hear a commotion at the entrance of the club. Spinning around, I strain my neck to see what’s going on. The champagne that I was pouring for Rick overflows, covering my hand in a sticky mess.
A melee of chaos floods in from the door, which ignites a spark of concern in the depths of my chest. Clearly, there’s trouble and it’s not what I’m in the mood for. Of course, dealing with angry drunks is an occupational hazard, but all I wanted was a quiet, relaxing evening.
My heart starts to thrum when I catch sight of a group of towering men intimidating the doormen. They are all dressed in head-to-toe black, with matching little earpieces. They look like the security teams that my father is always surrounded by, a hell of a lot bigger though. You don’t see men built like that every day. They all seem like they are one solid flex away from bursting out of their expensive uniforms, their hair closely shorn to their heads, and are clean-shaven.
A few of the intruders shove the bouncers aside and push past them. Something is definitely not right here, and these don’t seem like the usual troublemakers. The pack of men charges through the patrons, parting the crowd as they march forward. Are they looking for somebody? As the owner’s daughter, is this the sort of thing that I’m supposed to intervene in?
My father hates whenever I ask about his business dealings. He would likely be pissed if I did so now. Should I call him? Feeling my stomach clench, I struggle against the rising wave of bile in my throat. No, whatever this is — I can handle it myself.
I put the champagne down as Rick grabs my arm. “Anya, don’t just let it be! Those guys are huge!”
I pull my arm from his grip and shake my head. “They don’t belong here.”
“And you’re going to do what exactly?” Rick moves for my arm again, just narrowly missing me a second time. “Those guys can bench press a tiny thing like you, Anya, you cannot go down there.
“Anya!” Rick hisses after me, but I’m already moving down the lounge steps and onto the main dance floor.
I force my spine straight, lifting my chin high, as I stride across the dance floor toward the intruders. Surprisingly, the people who had been dancing before move out of my way.
I don’t have a plan. I try to summon one with each step that I make toward the grouping, but my mind stays blank. Vastly outnumbered, they look like they can lift my entire body with only one hand.
As I draw nearer to them, one man steps forward – he’s different. He’s taller, his shoulders wider, a sort of intimidating presence to him that I find painfully attractive, which I feel instantly guilty about. I will not let them intimidate me any more than I let that blonde bully did.
I lift my chin and glare at him, placing my hands on my hips defiantly as if that will somehow make me larger. The man returns my glare, a tempest raging behind his dark eyes. He stares down at me and I quickly conceal any concern. I will not allow him to scent my fear. He rakes a hand through his short dark hair and shakes his head as he approaches me like a panther stalking its prey. He walks a half-circle around me, as if sizing me up. I refuse to turn to watch him despite the creeping sensation of fear up my spine.
I can’t deny that he is one of the most handsome men that I have ever seen. Tall and strongly built, he radiates an aura of power. He’s the sort of man that my rare late-night fantasies involve, settings much like this one. Only, in those fantasies, we would be somewhere a hell of a lot more private.
“Now, now, who do we have here?” he demands, raking his eyes over my body. I can hear an accent coating his words. Russian, maybe?
Steeling my gaze, I glare at him. “I could ask you the same question,” I retort, refusing to be intimidated.
“A woman with spunk,” he hisses, laughing. “Just how I don’t like them.” His gaze grows colder, and he exhales slowly. “My name is Nikolai Volkovich. You’ll want to remember that sweetheart since I’m the new boss around here.”
“Are you sure that I look alright? I can dress up…or down…or do something else?” I stare at my reflection in the mirror and hope that I wasn’t wrong in thinking that this was acceptable to wear to dinner.
It’s certainly outside of my comfort zone, I know that much. The white high heels are a bit too high, and I think I would feel more comfortable wearing a nice dress. By changing things up and wearing a pantsuit, I look more formal, but the flowy white pants that tie in a pretty box at my waist feel like they should belong to somebody else. I’m wearing a white sleeveless shirt with a modest neckline, and my blonde hair is tumbling over my shoulders in big waves. I know that I look presentable, but I don’t feel like I look entirely like myself. The person in the mirror isn’t really me.
“You would look fine, no matter what you choose to wear,” Dalton says from the doorway leading into the bathroom.
His hands are in his pockets. He’s chosen to dress more casually tonight as well. He’s wearing a white button-down with the top few buttons undone and dark navy slacks. Our outfits complement one another – something that I think absently as I admire him from his reflection in the mirror.
“Right, but do I look alright for tonight?” I stress because I know how important tonight is for both of us.
This isn’t a normal evening where I’m going to meet my boyfriend’s boss, because Dalton isn’t exactly my boyfriend, and Constantino isn’t his boss in the meaning that I would normally place on the word. It’s something more than that. I feel like we are going to have me inducted somehow. Not that I will ever really be a part of their world in that way, but close enough.
To think that it wasn’t long ago I was dreading even the idea that I would be in the same room as somebody with mafia connections…and now I’m here hoping that they will like me. I don’t know what would happen if I got there and Constantino or his wife decided that they didn’t like me.
“What if I say the wrong thing? What if I spill something on myself? What if-” I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from talking any longer. My hands join together in front of my body and I start to fidget, shifting anxiously in place as Dalton crosses the room to me. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and grabs me by my throat. I can feel the tension melting from my shoulders as I lean back into his sturdy frame.
“Let me worry about all of that. You just worry about being yourself, and not choking on your food because you’re overthinking things,” Dalton says with a soft laugh to the side of my face. “You are going to do just fine, I’m certain of it. Constantino means the world to me, and he will love you just as I do.” Dalton kisses the side of my face and lets me go.
I nod. Dalton is so sure that it’s hard not to be as confident as he is.
Dalton glances at his watch and sighs. “Time to go.” He waves me out of the room, and I grab my clutch purse from the dresser and head to the elevator. It’s been so easy to make myself at home here. So much easier than I ever thought. There is more clutter with all of my stuff here, and I’ve nearly taken over the sunken living room as my own personal workstation for school-related things. I’ve quit my job at the bookstore, but I still volunteer on the weekends. I don’t need the money anymore, something that Dalton made sure that I understood properly. I protested at first, but we both agreed that it’s just easier to have me safe and sound in the loft rather than having his men posted outside of the book store every day that I’m working. It’s doing wonders for my grades to have so many of my previous stressors removed from my plate. Not having to worry about money, or where my next meal is coming from…I can actually dedicate my time to learning and getting all of my work done quickly. That in and of itself is invaluable.
I’ve tried to not be a burden by overtaking many other rooms in the house, and Dalton has invited me to come into his gym with him, but I had refused. He gives me enough cardio on a daily basis that I don’t feel like I need to worry about stuff like that presently.
He’s even allowed Laura to be escorted here a few times, which is nice. I like being able to take Austin to go and visit her in her apartment as well. Unlike me, she has no issues taking Dalton’s money. She will happily accept any and everything that he offers her. Granted, she has to tease him mercilessly while she’s doing it.
My anxiety returns after we’ve been sitting in the back of the car for a while. I pull at the skin of my bottom lip as I zone out looking through the window. Dalton’s hand on my knee tightens to bring me back to center.
“You’re still worried, aren’t you?”
I drop my hand heavily to my lap, and start to pick at the loose skin on my knuckles as I nod bashfully.
“Is there anything that I can do in order to put you more at ease?” Something dark gleams in his eyes, and his hand shifts, rotating to trail up the impossibly soft material of my pants.
“I know you think it’s silly…but I haven’t ever met a big-time mafia don before, you know. It’s not a common occurrence that many people have to learn how to deal with.”
Dalton grins, all of his brilliant teeth on display as he shakes his head. “Please, do not call him that to his face. I don’t think his ego will fit through the door as it is.”
I shift in my seat, pulling my feet from the insides of my high heels, and move to sit on my knees on the seat as I face him. “I’m serious, Dalton! I’m nervous!”
Dalton leans back into the headrest and nods. “You know, people are intimidated to meet me too, I’m not chopped liver here. Big, scary mafia man, sitting right here.” He gestures to himself in such a cavalier way that I almost laugh.
“That is not the same, and you know it!”
“Ah, so because I’m just a right-hand man, and not the head honcho – all of a sudden I’m a fluffy kitten?”
“No! That’s not! Oh – you are impossible.” I cross my arms over my chest and sit back on my heels. I’m pouting, and it’s childish, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I just want to express myself clearly and words seem to be failing me. That in and of itself is very frustrating.
“You are going to do great. Don’t worry.”
Dalton leans forward and grabs the bow keeping my pants in place, and tugs the thing loose. He holds the two loose strings in his hands and pulls me closer to him. He kisses my chin and then trails a line of soft kisses around my jawline until he can close his teeth over the corner of my jaw, just below my ear.
“You look amazing, and you are going to do just fine. This is important, I know that, but you are important to me. I think you just need to relax a little.”
He pulls me closer to him, slips his hand inside of my pants, brushing over my navel and lower. He parts me with his fingers and pulls me closer.
“You just need to stop thinking about it. Hm?”
I’m straddling his leg, and his hand is supporting me around my lower back, holding me close to him. He spreads my wetness over his fingers, toying with my center before he sinks a single finger inside of me, and just like he suggested, all thought stutters right out of my head. His thumb finds my clit and starts to make slow, deliberate circles with a soft, teasing pressure. He works a second finger inside of me.
“Tell you what.” He begins as I start to ride his hand. “If you don’t cum for me by the time that we get there, you won’t be allowed to have any dessert. Focus on that. Focus on how my fingers feel inside of you right now, my pretty little whore.”
He pumps his fingers inside of me, and my hips find a rhythm that works against it, bucking against his thumb. This is exactly what I needed. It’s like he always knows when my body is craving him. He has some sort of secret connection with my sex that I cannot begin to understand.
From the beginning, my body has only ever responded to him. My body knew that he was meant for me even before I accepted the truth. Now, I can’t imagine anything else.
“You better hurry, slut – or you won’t orgasm in time.”
I let everything else drift away. I can feel the way that my peaked nipples are brushing against my shirt. I want him to pay attention there too, but I want my orgasm more. I want to fuck him, right here in this car. I’ve been so busy today getting everything ready for this dinner that I haven’t had him since waking up this morning. I’ve grown accustomed to him interrupting me throughout the day.
Just yesterday, I was working on my paper when he came into the living room and bent me over my workstation. He pulled my sweatpants down just underneath my ass and slipped inside of me with the instruction that I was to keep working. I think we have mastered the act of a quickie in just about every inch of his house. He is insatiable, I’ve learned that about him as well. I guess that means that I am also becoming insatiable. Perhaps I’m actually becoming a slut for him, just like he always says that I am. I always want him inside of me. I want more than his hands right now, but I will take what I can get.
“Hurry up slut, fuck yourself on my hand – that’s my good girl.”
His deep voice echoes in my head. I let myself lean into his hold and circle my hips faster as he stuffs a third finger inside of me – and I don’t last long after that. He increases the pressure on my clit, and the combination of sensations proves to be overwhelming as I cum on his hand. My thighs tremble and shake as they try to clamp around him. My eyes snap open as I lift my head to kiss him. I don’t even realize that the car is slowing as my hands move for his shirt buttons in a lust-induced haze. I want him. Now. I need him right now.
I have his shirt halfway undone as the car stops, and I mewl in protest as he breaks contact with my lips.
“Needy little whore.” He kisses the tip of my nose and pulls his hand from my pants. He sticks his fingers in his mouth with a hum of contentment. “Perhaps I’ll just have you for dessert. Would you like that, slut?”
“Yes, Master.”
Something in his expression darkens. “Oh, don’t do this to me right now. Constantino likely won’t be happy if he finds out that the reason that we are late is because I was fucking you senseless in his driveway.”
Dalton smirks and nods to the sash of my pants. Reluctantly, I tie the box back into place and attempt to make myself look a little less flushed as Dalton rebuttons his shirt and steps out of the car.
He holds a hand back for me and escorts me up the stairs. It’s a good thing that he does, too, because the sheer enormity of the mansion in front of me is overwhelming. It’s almost like each and every place that Dalton takes me is grander and more extravagant than the last. Constantino’s mansion is exactly what I would have pictured.
“So this is the Negrini Mansion?” I utter in an awed voice. I have the feeling that very, very few people are ever actually invited to come and stay here.
“It is indeed.” Dalton jogs up the steps, perfectly comfortable and not seeming to be intimidated whatsoever by the luxury of the place. “Why? Do you want one?”
My eyes might pop out of my head. “W-what?! You can- do you-” He cannot possibly be saying that he could just up and purchase a mansion like this whenever he wanted to. He doesn’t even bother answering me, he just smiles.
The door is opened for us, and we are escorted into the parlor, and then through into the dining room with a massive table already laden with beautiful, deliciously fragrant food laid out over the expansive surface.
I link my arm through Dalton’s and stick tightly to his side before a young boy comes running into the room with his arms extended toward Dalton. “Dalton!” He releases me to scoop up the young boy who cannot be much more than six or seven, and spins him around in a wide circle as if the child weighed nothing at all.
Seeing him with Constantino’s son warms me in a way that I cannot explain. I can hardly tear my eyes away from the sight at the sound of rapid high heels clicking as a beautiful brunette woman comes running in after the boy, probably not having expected him to get away from her so quickly.
“Oh, I see what got him all excited,”
The woman breathes and shakes her head. I was hoping that Dalton might introduce me to them, but he seems so occupied with the boy that it slipped his mind. The woman tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and crosses to me. She hugs me, a real hug – not that socially polite sort of hug but the real kind that puts me at ease and instantly makes me feel welcome in her home.
“You must be Maxine! Dalton has told us a lot about you, I’m Clelia!”
She glances over her shoulder to the large, intimidatingly handsome man coming up to put his arm around her waist. It’s an effortlessly possessive gesture, and I can see automatically how well he and Dalton must get along. “This is Constantino.”
I almost curtsy, but I smile and hold my hand out instead. He eyeballs it strangely and I think for a moment that I’ve already offended him, or somehow done the wrong thing, but then he smiles. He leans in to kiss either side of my face instead. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t this. It’s more casual than I could have hoped, and I smile.
“It’s about time that Dalton found a good woman.” Constantino glances at his wife with a look of pure, open admiration.
“Thank you so much for having me over.”
“No, thank you for coming – as you can see, Otello has been missing Dalton awfully a lot since I’ve been away. Please, come sit – I am looking forward to getting to know you a little better.”
Constantino gestures for all of us to have a seat at the table and snaps expectantly at their child.
“First, I think that congratulations are in order, of a sort.” He reaches for his wine glass and toasts in my direction. “Welcome to the family, Maxine.”
I glance up at the television to see if the movie that uncle Simon has selected is something that I want to watch. It’s just another B-list slasher movie – they are all the same. Some girl is shown on the cover with her breasts shoved up against the killer’s chest as she poses in an attempt to get away from him. This is the fourth movie he asks me to watch, and I’ve already shaken my head to all of the others. I know that if I tell him no again, he’s going to get angry. I nod, even though it’s not something that I want to see. I don’t like horror movies. I don’t like the creepy things and I really hate that he always insists on having the lights off for the duration. I would rather be up in my room reading, but he never lets me leave his sight when he’s babysitting.
Personally, I just want to close my eyes and wait for my parents to return home. I don’t see why I can’t just go up to my room and read.
I don’t like it when he puts his arm around me.
“See? I knew that we would find something that we both liked!” Uncle Simon leans back into the couch and puts his arm out around the back expectantly. He turns the movie on and soon the only illumination left is the glow from the screen, but even that quickly fades. The screen is dark and there is already some girl screaming and running across the screen. I pull my oversized sweatshirt over my knees and attempt to close my eyes, and start counting inside of my head. Maybe, this way I can just zone out hard enough.
“Ahem,” Uncle Simon clears his throat and I look up to him. He pats the side of the couch and then looks down at the seat expectantly with a nod of his head in the direction of the seat that I’m supposed to be taking. “Come on, honey, it’s tradition!” He says and taps the space again. I tuck my hands inside of my sweatshirt and shake my head.
I know it’s a mistake.
I know that I’m not supposed to tell him no.
I know this even as I do it.
I know he’s going to be angry with me…and his expression darkens instantly. He looks like the villain out of one of my books. Uncle Simon makes my skin crawl. “Come on now, you’re acting like you don’t want to see me!”
Not a single part of me moves other than the way my heart is racing inside of my chest. I wish I could close my eyes and make myself smaller, to travel somewhere far, far away from this living room and the stale, beer-soaked breath of my uncle.
My father never understands when I tell him that I don’t want to be alone with his brother. Of course, I don’t have any proof. It’s not like he’s ever actually done anything. At least nothing other than making me deeply uncomfortable.
I know that they deserve to get out of the house if they want…but then they could just leave me here alone. They don’t need to call him. This is exactly the argument I tried to use with my mother tonight before uncle Simon arrived. She told me to stop imagining things, that uncle Simon has helped our family in more ways than I can ever understand. They just don’t get it.
I unfold my legs one at a time, and I wear loose jeans, my sweatshirt is huge because he always…looks at me. I can feel those yellow eyes on me right now as I cross over to the couch and sit down next to him. I sit on the furthest edge, and the girl on the television is naked now…why do they always have to be naked when they run like that? It’s not practical even in a horror movie. It’s because of men like my uncle, I think. It’s because men like him like to look at naked women in a bad way.
Uncle Simon’s hands close around my hips, pull me back further onto the couch, and wrap his arm around my shoulders. “What? You’re twelve now, and so you can’t hang out with your Uncle?” he says while looking at me up and down, making me want to curl up into a ball and hide forever.
I want to scream that I’m not supposed to watch movies like this, that I don’t like it…but then he gets angry and threatens me with bad things If I can’t keep his secrets. He says he is just trying to treat me like an adult.
I don’t answer him. I cover my hands with my sweatshirt and wrap them awkwardly around myself, trying to keep from touching him in any way.
“I get it. I’m just an old man to you now, right? Well, that’s alright…I’ve noticed that you’re turning into a rather attractive young woman, so you need to get used to adult things. That sweatshirt doesn’t fool me one bit.”
My stomach flips. I think I’m going to be sick.
“It’s alright, I won’t tell that you still need to hide behind your hands when you’re scared! Come here, baby,” Uncle Simon teases in a sickly sweet voice, and grabs my shoulder, and pulls me back into his side, and this time when he lets me go…his hand is on my breast.
Does he know that his hand is there?
Did he do that on purpose?
Alarm bells, sirens, red flashing lights, flares of distress start to go off inside of my head, and I attempt to roll my shoulder backward to dislodge his hand, but he squeezes…and he starts to massage the skin of my breast painfully, pulling and groping. I don’t like this. I don’t want this. Get off of me. “Stop,” I mutter in a small voice.
“What was that, baby?” He leans into my air, and I feel like all of the oxygen in the room is being sucked out of the ceiling. He kisses me on the neck and makes a noise. “I know you’re scared, but you don’t have to pretend, I know exactly what you want…why you chose this movie…why you just wriggled your pert little ass against me…I’m only too happy to be your first baby.”
No.
No.
That’s not what I want at all. I didn’t do the things that he says that I did. I want to be in my room, locked behind my bedroom door, and safe. I didn’t even want this movie. He’s lying.
“No!” I push against his chest, hoping that I can break free, but he only tightens his grip around me.
“It’s okay, I won’t tell your father, I swear, baby.” Uncle Simon mutters and bites me on my neck, and I scream. “Oh yeah baby, I like that…struggle more, I know you want this.” He grabs the collar of my sweatshirt and pulls so hard the neck of the fabric rips, and it nearly chokes me, cutting off the sound. I’m struggling, but he’s got me trapped between the arm of the couch and his body…he’s so much larger than me. What do I do?
“Get off me!” I say, but my voice sounds so weak…strangled, he can’t do this. His hand is up to my sweater now…and I can feel him fumbling with the button on my jeans…and I manage to push myself up and off of the side of the couch, but he holds my pants that they scrape down my hips. Now that he has them,bare-legged and holding my sweatshirt to my body, I take off running across the room, tears are blurring my eyes as I run across the house to the front door, yet he’s laughing at me. I can hear his large footsteps thundering after me, mocking me with his slow pace as he follows.
I’m shaking so bad, I can’t stop…my hands almost can’t close over the locks on the door. I throw them open one after the other. I don’t even know where I’m going. I just know that I have to get out of here. I have to get as far away from here as I possibly can. “Stop! Please!” I cry, and throw the last lock open and grab the handle, but it’s locked, and the key is gone.
My stomach drops out of my ass as Uncle Simon grabs me by my hair and hauls me backward. I fall to the ground, and he follows right after, dropping himself on top of me heavily. “That’s my girl, oh your heart is racing…you want me really bad, don’t you, baby? Do you want my thick cock filling you? Ripping you open for the very first time? I’ve waited months to be alone with you again, baby.” His hand is between my legs – cupping my privates, and I’m sobbing, heavily sobbing, and I can’t breathe…I think he’s going to crush me to death. I think I’m going to die…if he does what he says….I’m going to die. I’m so scared that I think that I’ve pissed myself. I don’t want this.
I don’t want this.
“What the fuck are you doing to my daughter?!” Daddy suddenly screams and grabs uncle Simon by the back of his shirt and throws him off of me, and I swear that he throws him halfway across the room. I don’t know when he got in the house, but I’m thankful for it. Uncle Simon is no longer a scary man, he’s a terrifying man – he’s a beast, a wild animal, and I swear he looks like he’s made up of shadow and nightmare. I’ve never been more terrified of anything in my entire life. There’s murder in his eyes as he moves towards Daddy. Each step is steady, too even. It feels like he grows another three feet in every direction as his aura fills the entryway.
“Daddy!” I scream, reaching for my father and struggling to stand. I’m shaking so much it’s hard to keep upright.
“Baby, run…go out to the car, the driver is in the driveway…go…”
“No! Don’t make me go! He will get me!” I wail, but Daddy shoves me toward the door. uncle Simon is laughing and advancing on his brother – then they are fighting…they are fighting and somebody is bleeding. I don’t understand. Why are they fighting? I know that I’m screaming. I’m screaming for him to leave Daddy alone, but they don’t stop.
And then Uncle Simon has a gun…he has a gun and he fires…
Daddy falls to the floor.
There’s so much blood.
He shot Daddy. He shot him and he’s not moving. He’s kicking Daddy on the ground, and blood is slowly pouring out of him, and I don’t understand that I’m seeing the life leaving my father’s body. Where did the gun come from?
There’s so much blood on the floor and I’m panicking. When I find my legs, I start running and scream at the top of my lungs as I dash out of the house and to the driver waiting in the driveway as Daddy said. I barely throw myself into the car and shout for the driver to go to wherever mommy is. Yet, my uncle doesn’t let me go that easily, because I can see him running toward the car.
I slam my hand down on the door locks so hard it feels like I’ve broken something in my hand…but he can’t get in. Uncle Simon bashes against the window – he’s hitting the car with something – then bullets fly and I scream and duck as the window of the car shatters. The car swerves violently to the side at the break. I can hear the driver swear loudly from the front seat but my brain will not register what words he actually used. My breath is coming in rapid, short bursts. I can’t make it stop.
What if he drags me out of the window? What if he gets me again? I just keep screaming…and the car goes faster and faster until I can no longer see the blur that became my neighborhood out of the window.
I don’t know if I will ever be able to stop crying.
Chapter One
Maxine
Present Day
-I’m locking up now, I’ll be home soon.-
Laura hasn’t been answering my texts for a few hours now. Which usually just means that she’s allowed her boyfriend into our dorm again and she’s otherwise occupied…but that’s just another thing that the text messages are supposed to be for. They are supposed to be enough of a warning for her to stop boning her boyfriend, and then at least have the decency to stuff him under the bed or into her closet…not that they have to hide. I think that Laura just makes him hide out of reflex more than anything else.
At least this boyfriend is nice, and sometimes he even makes up those little toaster waffles in the morning. He says he would be only too happy to make some of the regular stuff, but we broke girls living that college life never can afford eggs regularly, let alone all of the stuff needed for real waffles, let alone real plates to eat them. Glassware is a luxury – which is exactly what I told Laura this year when we were shopping for dorm decor and she wanted to get a whole serving set – which meant that we would have to buy second-hand sheets again this year…and I was absolutely, absolutely, not going to be doing that for the second year in a row. I draw the line at used sheets.
While the campus bookstore tends to be a little bit too pricey for most of the students, we have this lovely back half of the store that serves as a real little bookshop and not just a place to buy used textbooks. Another one across campus sells all of the campus merch and the new books, but I like my little bookshop better. It’s cozy and has that rich old book smell that I never can get enough of. Plus, it pays decently enough to have us well-stocked in the name-brand toaster waffles, so I’m not complaining.
Still.
I’m a safe girl, and I ping her my location attached to the text anyway because you just never know when walking across campus this late in the afternoon. I would much rather be safe than sorry.
I drape my rape whistle around my neck. I keep my keys in between my fingers like I’m supposed to. I have a reflective strip on my messenger bag and I only walk on the well-lit paths. I don’t stop, I’m not wearing anything form-fitting, and I read somewhere once that you shouldn’t ever wear your hair in a ponytail because that makes it easier for bad guys to grab it, so I never wear my hair up either. Least of all when I’m out in public. I don’t think that I look like a person who would be enticing to predators…but I will take each and every precaution possible. I even switched to those slide-on trainers for shoes because I saw a story in the news that a girl tripped over her own laces and was kidnapped, raped, and murdered. One close call was enough for me – and I refuse ever to fall prey to something like that again.
As it usually does, my walk goes easily, and I don’t see another soul. I chose this campus because of the safety rating after all, and I love being able to walk home without having to keep watching over my shoulder. I do look over my shoulder anyway, but I like that I don’t have to.
I half expect to hear sex sounds when I unlock my dormitory door…but instead, I’m greeted with the strong scent of Vicks vapor rub and the lavender oil that Laura pumps into her humidifier. The lights are dimmed, and it feels like a sick person sauna in here. Coughing softly, I shut and lock the door behind me, step out of my shoes, take my backpack off, and drop it to the ground.
“Laura?” I ask, and move for the light. Laura flinches when I flip the thing on, and she pulls her fluffy robe higher up on her shoulders. She’s laying on the bed like she stumbled and fell there. I can see the fishnet stockings of her work outfit covering the leg that’s exposed and just the hint of the red lace of her garter, so I know that she’s wearing that new corseted thing that she came home with last week. “Laura, are you okay?”
My best friend attempts to smile at me, but her lips look chapped even with the face full of makeup that she’s wearing. Even the soft movement causes a nasty wet cough to rattle through her, and she lifts a tissue she holds clenched tightly in her fist. “I’m golden, Maxine, really,” she sputters between coughs and finally manages to grin at me properly. Laura wipes her nose, attempts to sit up, and falls back down.
“You’re not okay, you’re clearly really super-duper sick. What happened?! You were fine this morning!” I chastise and move to the bed, I attempt to wiggle her bedding out from underneath her body so that I can cover her in it, but she shakes her head.
“What time is it?”
“It’s Laura’s sleep time, that’s what time it is.” I shake my head and swat away the hands that she’s attempting to stop me with,
“I have to be at work at ten…is it ten?”
“You can’t be serious! You cannot work like this…you’ll be throwing snot all over your johns, that’s really sexy.”
“Johns? What is this? The thirties? No, they are clients or douchebag supremes and very little in-between.” Laura pauses to cough. “Besides, I have to go. I already paid for the stage tonight, we can’t afford that loss of money…not with tuition due in two weeks, Maxine, you know that.”
I do.
I pause for a moment, attempting to do mental math to calculate everything in my mind because I know how much money she needs to compensate for how far behind she is. “I’m sure your boyfriend will help you out again, it’s not like you can control that you got sick!”
“No, he won’t, he’s fighting with his parents right now, and they have frozen all his cards…really, what’s the point in dating a trust fund baby if I don’t get the sugar treatment.”
I roll my eyes. “Because you love him, that’s why.”
Laura shrugs as if that’s a silly reason. “Yeah, true. But mostly the money.”
“Yeah, yeah.” There is no point in arguing with her, my best friend hates talking about money if she doesn’t have to. “Anyway, this is just how I get sick. I’ll get up there on stage, sweat out my fever and then I will be right as rain, you will see. Don’t even think about it. Then there will be no money – cough- problems.” Laura nodded to herself. “I just need like…ten minutes to sit here in my snot. Okay?”
“No. Not okay,” I insist and bend to start unhooking the buckle on her giant plastic stripper heels and pulling them from her feet. I know that my choice is right because she’s not even fighting me on it, and she has leg muscles for days.
“We can’t lose the money, Max, it’s not like you can go and do it for me.” A lightbulb illuminates above her head, bright and shining as she seems to get an idea, and props herself up onto her elbows. “Unless…you’ll go for me?”
I snort, “Yeah, right.” I brandish the massive high heel in my hand at her as if that alone is proof enough to her that there is no way that I could ever fumble my way through one of her sets. “I would snap my ankle clear off of my leg in one of these!” I shake my head and move to unbuckle the second one with a forced laugh. Sweat is already dotting my palms and my chest is starting to feel tight. There is no way that I can do what she’s suggesting. “Me? A stripper? Hah, that’s a good one. I’ll make a list of unsexual things for three hundred, Alex.” I mock her, but she’s just staring at me. “Absolutely not.” I shake my head. We’ve been friends for more than long enough now for her to know that I would never debase myself in this way. I could never get up there and shake my stuff for the gawking masses. “You know how I feel about your career choice as it is!”
I keep waiting for her to laugh, or to say that she was only joking, or offer me an exit of any kind to this insane line of suggestion.
“It’s just for one night though, Max, you can do just one itty bitty night, can’t you?”
“I would kill myself, or puke from the stress…or…or…I can’t even move like that!
“I mean, you are always watching me practice. You’ve even joined me a couple of times.” Laura sniffles and wipes at her nose again.
“Yeah, I know but that’s just playing around in our sweatpants to kill the rest of your studio time.” I shrug.
“Well yeah, but you know all of my routines. You’ve got the best rack that I’ve ever seen, Max, so my costumes will be a bit tight on you, sure, but you can totally pull it off.” She’s looking at me as if she’s trying to picture me naked – bile rises in my throat, and I lift my hand to the collar of my shirt and pull it closed. It’s not that I don’t want her looking at me. The real issue is that I don’t want anybody looking at me in the kind of place she works, for any reason. Walking into a group of lustful men in almost nothing is my actual nightmare. It’s the furthest thing from anything I would willingly allow myself to do.
“No. It’s impossible.” I say firmly, and the words come out almost angry even though I don’t mean for them to.
Laura nods. “Okay, I’m not going to force you to do something that you’re not comfortable with, babe, really.”
I know she won’t, but now I can’t get the image out of my head. Nearly naked and having men leering at me with all of their perverted thoughts floating in the air between us, I can’t do that. I would faint…or worse.
“I guess I can ask for another extension,” Laura looked at me out of the side of her eye. I knew that wouldn’t work because she had already been late too many times and the admissions office no longer trusted that she was capable of paying. If I did not do this for her, there is a very good chance that she will either have to drop out of school or do something really illegal to get the money, and I don’t want to put her in that position.
“Just, as an aside…something totally unrelated here, but ah-” Laura pauses to cough, I’m almost tempted to drag her down to the nurse’s station. “On a typical Saturday night like this? I can make like three or four grand. Just saying.”
“What?!” I exclaim and fall over backward. It seems like an impossible amount of money for me to fathom, and I know how much that would help her. That would cover the rest of her tuition for the semester and feed us for weeks.
Laura nods. “You can probably make even more since you’re a new face and men love seeing a new face. Though, I do think that we will need to get you a fake name to use while you’re in there for safety reasons. Then you can just pretend that you’re somebody else and not have a single thing to worry about!”
“Just this one time, right? Like I can do your shift and then leave?”
“Yes,” Laura confirms. “Just this one night, you get the money and run unless you choose to go back.” We both know that’s not very likely.
“What about that man who runs the club?”
“Constantino?”
I nod. I might be more on the innocent side than most girls my age, but even I have heard about him and the sorts of things that he tends to get into.
Laura waves off my concerns like they are nothing. “Constantino Negrini is a very busy man, he would never have the time to bother with something like a dancer replacement. I promise you he has much bigger stuff to worry about, a man as important as he is.”
I know his reputation, and I don’t even want to be in the same room as somebody that scary. “I don’t think that I will be able to even walk in those massive shoes, let alone dance in them.”
“They are easier than you think that they are once you get the hang of them, I promise. I would say that you could go barefoot to appeal to the whole innocent thing you have going on without even thinking about it, but I wouldn’t walk on that floor without shoes on. You just have to make it to the stage, and they are really grippy, so that helps.”
“This is my nightmare,” I confess.
Laura sits up and pats my arm. “Look, I know that you don’t approve of what I do and that this is going to be really hard for you, but think of all of the food that we can buy…milk in a jug and not powdered, babe, we can be real people.”
My grin is forced. My lips pull into a tight line of discomfort at the idea. It would be nice to be able to put actual creamer into my coffee for the next week. Really nice. Things tend to get really sparse here right before tuition is due, which is soon, so we have been going without a lot of things until after the tuition payments clear. She is right in saying that I never approved of her work, and that’s not because of her. All that Laura does is dance, she doesn’t partake in any of the other things that I’m always hearing about as going on inside of that place, and I know that she’s not even getting fully naked most nights. It’s the men. It’s the creepy jerks who go there to stare at her, knowing how they are all there just thinking about all of the things that they would do to her if they could. Just another reason why I like her boyfriend so much. While he never goes inside of the Leonessa club, he’s always there waiting just outside of the door for her to get off work so that he can walk her home. I really appreciate that about him.
It’s not like I hate all men.
I just don’t trust them.
“I know…I already said I would do it.”
Laura grins and holds her hand out for me to help her up, and when I pull her to her feet, my friend sways just slightly before settling. “Whoa,” she teases. “I swear, every time that I get sick it always comes on out of nowhere and kicks my whole ass for a couple of days or a few hours, and then it’s just gone. Just like that,” Laura snaps her fingers for emphasis. “Over and done.” She rolls her shoulder and points for her closet, and I help her walk over there.
“Okay so the heels there, the olive green ones are a little bit shorter so you should wear those. Man, we’re really lucky that we are basically the same size. Though, I wish that I was built like you. Yes, okay – grab that there, the little army uniform. They will eat that right up for your theme.”
I look at her like she’s insane. “This isn’t a uniform…this is floss…” I protest and she holds it up to my chest, pushing my breasts together and then frowning.
“Well, it’s either this or the tall glitter heels. My other ones haven’t been broken in yet so those won’t work for you since you don’t know what you’re doing.”
I sigh. “Okay….”
“Okay. Now off with the clothes.”
I blanch and stare at her.
“Well, I can’t help you get into the outfit if you can’t put it on, and it would really suck if you got there and then it didn’t fit, you know?”
I know that she has a point, so I head over behind the partition that separates her bed from mine and take off my work clothes quickly.
“You’ve shaved, right?”
“Yeah…I shaved my legs this morning.”
Laura laughs, “Oh you little lamb, no, I mean your kitty – have you shaved your vag recently?”
I blush, even though I get how it’s a relevant question. “Um…yeah…a little…um..”
“It’s okay Max, you don’t have to tell me the specifics. I just wanted to make sure that there wasn’t going to be a Wookie attempting to escape out of the sides of my booty shorts.”
“N-no…nothing like that,” I murmur and pull on the booty shorts in question, black glittery fabric that is so impossibly soft. However, it rides halfway up my ass and leaves very little to the imagination. I undo my bra and pull the top on. It’s army printed with tiny sleeves that just barely cover my shoulders, and the whole thing is attached by laces that criss-cross over my boobs to hold the thing together. If I lift my arms at all, my breasts threaten to spill under the shirt, and when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I don’t recognize myself at all. I look like somebody else. The person in the mirror is attractive, there is no denying that. It’s just not me that is attractive. It’s some alternate reality version of myself. It’s the version that never learned any lessons the hard way…maybe the version of myself that will embrace her sexuality. Certainly won’t ever be the real me. I hate it. I tear my eyes away and don’t give the image another thought.
“Come on! Let me see, Max!” Laura wheezes and I wrap my arms around my belly and head out to let her see. “Damn,” Laura mutters and looks me over in a way that has my whole chest flushing red.
“I can’t do this,” Every single part of me wants to pull the sheets from my bed and wrap them around myself.
“You’re already doing it. You’ve already got the thing on…here, sit here and I’ll do your makeup.”
“I don’t normally wear…” I begin to try to keep the shake out of my voice, but I’m failing.
Laura gives me a stern look. She isn’t the sort of woman that likes to hear the word ‘no’.
“Okay,” I surrender to the stern look on her face and sit on the bed in front of her. I’m fairly certain that the shorts are attempting to crawl inside of my body for how tiny they are. I don’t even know half of Laura’s products are piling on my skin. At most, I wear just the basics of makeup: tinted sunscreen, mascara, and maybe some pink lip gloss.
When she’s finished, she bends over the end of her bed, pulls out a large box filled with smaller wig boxes, and starts checking them until she finds a black wig cut into a severe bob. “Now you can make them all call you commander,” she teases and starts to tuck all of my long blonde waves into a wig cap, and then covers the whole thing with the wig that she’s selected. “You look like a whole new person,so just pretend to be the commander tonight and you will be okay. Maxine who? You don’t know her. I’m going to call the club and let them know that commander girl will be filling in for me.”
“I don’t think that I can be a commander. Nobody will buy that for a second.”
“Yeah, no you’re all too sweet for such a thing, hm, well then we can’t call you Maxine, or Max, though I suppose that we could call you Heavenly…that suits you really well. Plus, it’s really super catchy.”
“That’s just my last name.” I object, but Laura shrugs.
“It’s perfect. Now go make that money, Heavenly.”
Chapter Two
Dalton
The man in front of me is not quite dead.
I cannot say for certain that he will live after what I have done to him. He will receive medical treatment, but I doubt the prognosis will be good. Either way, his heart is still beating, and he is alive for now. I cannot say that I even feel any remorse for what I have done to this man. Perhaps I could even say that I feel it as a sense of justice for the poor choices he has already made in his life. What is left of this man has aligned himself with all of the wrong people. I might have been able to excuse that choice alone, perhaps even be so lenient as to think that he simply had been roped into a lifestyle that he did not understand at a too young age like most of us have. Still, he also made the conscious decision to betray the Negrini family, which is wholly unacceptable to me. I am not a man of many morals, but disloyalty is not something I can abide by.
I grab a clean cloth from the metal tray of instruments beside me. It is the only clean thing left. Everything else is dirtied in bits of blood or viscera, but none so dirtied as my hands. Call me old-fashioned, but I still believe that an old school beat down is one of the most effective ways to get information out of a person.
It adds that little personal flair.
I don’t get many opportunities these days to enjoy a bit of torture, but it makes something in my blood sing when I do. I am the sort of man that is good at my job, very much so. The only downside to being a great enforcer and right-hand man to one of the most powerful mafia families that is so excellent at their job is that not many people act against us. Therefore the opportunities are less and less.
It was an entirely lucky thing that this offense was great enough and my bloodlust might even be sated for a good while. Now I just need to handle the other issues that my bloodlust has as a side effect. It’s truly a fortunate evening since I only have to head upstairs to see any debaucherous act that my black heart truly desires.
I clean the blood from my knuckles and wipe my face clean.
“Boss?” The large man on the other side of the door calls to me. It’s been quiet in here for a while. Killian knows me well enough by now to know that I like a period of reflection before I enter society again. Before, I have to contain myself and pretend that I am simply a man, instead of every bit the bloodthirsty monster I have been for the better part of the evening.
I roll my head from one side to the other, listening to the satisfying cracks that relieve me of my tension, and roll my shoulders back. I pulled on the clean shirt that was waiting for me on the hook on the back of the door. I pull on my tailored jacket and take my time in doing up the buttons before I unlock the door and allow the thing to slide open. “Send word to Constantino,” I say without looking up. I can feel the way that Killian’s eyes widen at the sight behind me. Though to his credit, the moment I lift my head he schools his face into a mask of impassivity. “Actually, I will contact him myself to tell him that the little rat has confessed everything.” I glance over my shoulder to the lump of a man in the chair. “Then send Ernie to go and collect the little rat’s family.”
That stirred life back into the man, he groaned in fear and attempted to lift his head as if his pleas would stop anything now.
“You got it, boss,” Killian said and started inside of the room.
“Possibly call and have the cleaners on standby,” I add as an afterthought and give the rat one last lingering look to admire my handiwork before I turn and head down the long hallway that will lead me up and out of the dungeons. Really, it was a great idea to have them placed underneath a strip club. The loud music from upstairs, the pulsating light, and the gyrating distractions are all perfect to keep any stray noises that might filter up from my dungeons into the main part of the club.
Club Leonessa has become more or less an office to me in the recent few weeks. It’s comfortable, familiar. With Constantino away on his honeymoon, I would not contact him for anything less than what I have just learned. I cannot imagine that whatever paltry monetary sum that the rat sold his soul for was in any way worth it. However, selling Negrini business to the Russians? That is the sort of thing that Constantino needs to be aware of, provided he can pull himself out of Clelia long enough to answer the phone. That’s just another reason that I know I need to be the one to call him: he will answer for me.
There is a drink waiting for me the moment that I hit the top of the stairs. My favorite whiskey is set on the rocks beside a cigar, but I do not want this at the moment. I take the drink, breathe deeply, and then step into the Leonessa club. I nod to the man standing guard beside the entrance to the dungeons. Another benefit of the women who staff the Leonessa being so beautiful is that I can come and go as I please. Very few clients here are willing to turn their gaze from the stages. I slowly take a sip of my drink and square my weight between the pair.
“You look like you feel better,” Austin says to me softly, his deep voice intended to be heard over the loud music but only just for my ears to hear. I think out of all of my men, I am the most myself around Austin. I’ve worked with him longer than the others, we have seen more than our share of shit together.
“I like working with my hands,” I grin to myself.
Austin gives me a knowing look and then rolls his eyes at me. “Here I was, thinking that today might be the day that I finally convinced you to dip into the company honeypot.”
I shake my head. “Today is not that day, Austin, and it will never be that day.” I do not sleep with the women employed here. I don’t like to mix business with pleasure outside of the dungeons if I can help it. “I see that Ismenia is working today,” I comment over the brim of my glass.
Austin flicks his brown eyes over to the woman taking the stage, her golden-brown skin coated in glitter that makes her seem to glow under the stage lights. Even in the dim lighting I can see the embarrassed blush coloring the back of his neck. It’s cruel to tease him, but he has been obsessed with Ismenia for the last two years that she has worked here. Out of that entire time, I think that he has perhaps spoken to her directly only twice. Even if I were to try to tell him about how she watches him while she dances, I don’t think he would believe me.
I clap Austin on the thickly muscled shoulder with a smirk. “Tell you what, how about the day that you get the balls to actually go over and speak to her and ask her on a date will be the day that I consider sticking my dick into one of these dancers.”
Austin scowls. We both know that he is unlikely ever to take that step, that he will content himself to pine over her from afar.
“I’ll leave you to your stalking if you need me – I will be at the bar.”
Before I leave, something dawns on Austin, and he slaps himself in the forehead. “Boss, there is a guy there, he was asking questions, I had him wait for you in the booth over in the corner of the bar, good view of the stage – I knew that you were not in a position to be interrupted.”
“Name?” I sigh, I cannot afford to be sidetracked.
“Called himself Simon Hellbound,” Austin answers and then stops before he adds anything else, he’s listening to his earpiece. I extend my thumb in the direction of the bar and leave Austin to his business.
It’s not that the women here are not attractive to tempt me, it’s nothing so vain as that. I just know the particular tastes that I enjoy and these women, they are not it.
“Mr. Hellbound,” I greet the older gentleman at his booth, and he rises to shake my hand.
“Please, join me, have a seat and let me buy you a drink.”
I lift a hand and shake my head politely, “I’ll pass, thank you – doesn’t seem right to allow one of our newest business partners to spend his money in my club. Unless, of course, it’s in the back rooms. There you pay for how you play.” I do not smile, I rarely do, but Simon chuckles in a darkly perverse way as if he is imagining exactly what I’m suggesting. If he took an interest in one of the girls, I could send a lap dance or two his way but the back rooms? Those there are no discounts for. Business partner or not.
I do not join him at his table and angle myself away in order to watch the girl on the center stage finish out her set. Tiny little thing, all pale skin, and too many curves to naturally fit onto a body her size.
“I do not have the luxury of lingering tonight, unfortunately, Mr. Hellbound, but if you should need anything just ask my men, and they will do their best to accommodate.”
“Oh, please, I’m just here as a patron tonight. I just wanted to see all of the things that the infamous Leonessa club has to offer as we are in business together now, see how things are run – get the lay of the land and everything.” Simon smiles at me, and I nod.
“Of course, anything that you might need.” It is not my job to place judgment on people. Especially on people that Constantino has chosen to go into business with. However, if it were, I am not entirely certain that Simon is a man that I would have chosen. His accomplishments speak for himself. He has more business holdings in recent collections than nearly anything that I have seen. However, there is a reason that those things are left to Constantino and not to myself.
Schmoozing his business contacts while he is out of town does fall on me, and not even I would want to endure the man’s wrath if something were mishandled because then he finally took a much-deserved break. I can distinctly remember assuring him that everything would be alright in my hands. I can remember Constantino staring at me in challenge even as I said it. He is far better with these sorts of interactions than I am. I prefer to be the muscle, standing right behind him.
I turn from Simon, and my attention catches on the dancer’s change on the main stage, a girl that I have never seen before is taking her place in an army-themed outfit. I don’t mind that it is too small on her, it accentuates her full chest and her full hips but it’s abundantly obvious that the creature has no experience walking in heels that high. She does not move with the same grace that some of the other dancers in this club do. She does not sway her hips, and it appears that she is doing everything in her power to avoid looking directly at the men seated on the ground level. They are already whispering behind their hands.
Normally, our girls are better chosen than this. She seems to have the same sex appeal as an orange peel.
“Now on the main stage, a soldier discharged from sleeping her way through the barracks and discharged for being too sexy for the military – Heavenly!” The music that Heavenly chose for her set starts, and it is quickly followed by a series of disjointed, stiff movements that I could tell are planned…but the lamb seems too nervous to remember what she is doing.
A sheen of nervous sweat already beaded her forehead, a trail of perspiration trailed between the valley of her breasts as she artlessly turned herself around the pole available to her. Somehow, her performance is disjointed and charming – wholly unappealing and yet alluring. She seems to be at internal war with herself, and all I can see is a woman who has not yet discovered her sexuality. Fascinating. Fish out of water.
My feet carry me toward the stage as I finish my drink and leave it on a random surface to be collected. As I grow closer, my hands slide into my pockets, close enough to hear the snide comments mocking the girl on the stage. I cannot assume just why she would be here, doing this, but I know that the Leonessa club has a hell of a lot more earning potential than a lot of the surrounding clubs. If the girl is brave enough to get up there, she deserves the chance to try.
“She could at least take her top off,” One man laughs as he twirls his thick mustache around his index finger. “Make it worth our while a little. I can’t even get a chubby one with her terrible dancing…if we could see her tits, then I don’t think I would care much.”
The other laughed at his friend’s comment, wadded up a dollar bill in his palm, and then pelt it at my dancer. The lamb flinches, and I can see something sad flicker across her eyes – to her credit, she tries to appear strong, but in the end, she flinches.
“Get out,” I say firmly. Both men look up at me with amused expressions.
“Who the hell are you, buddy?”
Buddy? The muscle in my jaw feathers. My posture shifts from borderline polite to downright hostile. My tongue runs across my teeth, and the men turn back to their drinks – a drink that I lift from the closest one’s hand. “There is a zero bullying policy for my girls here at Leonessa, and perhaps you ought to consider that when the only thing that the lady has to look at is you two lepers, then it would be hard to wish to entice you as well.” Austin has seen the altercation and is now standing behind me. It does not take much further encouragement to have the two forcibly removed from their seats.
A seat that I wipe clean and occupy at the end of Heavenly’s stage.
“You know, I don’t think that I’ve ever actually seen you nervous before, husband.”
I lean against the door frame to our large master bathroom and watch Vince’s reaction to my comment in the mirror. He only glances at me, and he doesn’t look pleased that I’m calling him out either.
“I’m not nervous.” He says simply.
“Right,” I don’t believe him for a second. Vince’s fingers fumble over the knot of the tie in his hands and he grunts in frustration before deciding to give up on the tie altogether and he pulls the thing from his neck and tosses it onto our marble countertop.
“It’s too formal of a thing to be wearing anyway.”
I shrug. “If it makes you feel more comfortable to wear it, then you should wear it.”
Vince has been wearing suits every day for the last few years of his life, and with how much money he pours into the fine fabrics and expensive imported designs, he wears them like a second skin. He is built to wear suits, and they look so damned good on him. Today he is wearing an olive green button-down tucked into darker colored slacks, a belt around his hips, and his cuff links are already in place. Even if he didn’t put on the jacket, he would be the best-dressed man in the room. Though, therein lies the problem, I think. I know he doesn’t want to make his brother uncomfortable by looking overdressed or putting any added pressure on the meeting. I think that Vince would wear sweatpants if it would put his brother more at ease for this meeting.
However, I think Vince might need a little more encouragement than he is letting on.
I am dressed far more casually, comfortable jeans with a nice top. I think that if Vince will pay a little more attention to me, he will like that I’ve chosen the shirt that practically has no back to it. A gold chain across my shoulders and a single black strap that connects the two flowy pieces of fabric together with a much more modest cut to the front, and long flowing sleeves cuffed at the wrists. No matter what they decide to do today, I figure that I’m dressed for the occasion. “Do you think that I should leave my ring at home, then?” I tease, toying the massive rock over in my finger, knowing full well that it catches the lighting in the bathroom just right to force his attention from his reflection to me.
“What? Why would you leave your ring at home?” Vince asks.
“Because if we are trying to make ourselves look like something that we aren’t, or trying to hide what we actually dress or look like…then my ring should be the top of the list of offensively big things.”
Vince raises one eyebrow and shakes his head. He crosses the room to me, and I lift my chin to maintain eye contact with him.
“I wouldn’t want you to leave behind your ring any more than I would want you to leave behind this.” Vince’s finger lifts to circle under the nondescript black band around my neck. He traded in my large, gaudy collar for something much smaller a long time ago. Now it looks as if I simply have an affinity for choker-style necklaces. The material is soft and goes with everything very well, so I don’t mind it. Besides, every time I feel it around my neck, I am reminded of who I belong to, and I like that even more.
He pulls me toward him by the collar around my neck, his lips just barely brushing over mine. I drop my arms from around me and place them on his chest, my pulse already quickening.
“However, I do get the point that you’re getting at.”
I smile a slow, sugary sweet smile at him as I look up at him from underneath my lashes, attempting to appear demure. “If you need to release some of that…tension, I can think of a few things that I might suggest for you,” I purr as I tighten my grip on his shirt, pulling us closer together.
“Is this your way of attempting to distract me from this meeting that’s about to happen?”
“Who, me?” I say coyly, feigning innocence.
“Mmhm,” he shakes his head at me, refusing to give in to my not-at-all subtle demands. I shouldn’t even be surprised by this point.
“I just can’t stop thinking of all of the ways that it will go wrong,” Vince admits to me, and I lower myself back down onto my feet once more. “If he does not want to form a relationship and only wants to continue receiving the money, I know that is a possibility that I will have to accept but I think…I think that I would like the opportunity to have a brother. Growing up we weren’t close, and I know how cliche it is to say that you never know what you have until you lose it, but I feel that in this case that’s what happened. Seeing him there at my trial that day…not even getting to say goodbye,” Vince trails off and I don’t press the subject any further.
“You will do great. You’ve done harder things than this before, and whatever his choice is I know that you will respect it. Once we get there, things will fall into place. I believe that.” I cannot imagine that it must be like to live estranged from your sibling like that. It was only second nature to send Ben money every month. I would have wanted somebody to do that for Deborah if it had been me that was sent to prison, at the very least.
Over the years, I debated whether or not I should have attempted to introduce myself to Ben, to tell him why I was sending the money; but, since I thought that Albert was dead, it didn’t seem appropriate.
Vince pulls me out of my train of thought with his knuckles running down my mostly bare spine, and I arch into him further. “I suppose you could prove useful in making sure that I go in there with a clear, level head.” His hand shifts, turning so that his fingers can splay out over the small of my back. “I like this,” he pinches the fabric of my shirt in between two of his fingers and tugs softly to let me know he’s talking about my shirt. I half expected him to force me to go back and chance into something that was more conservative.
I lift onto my tiptoes and I bite his bottom lip between my teeth playfully, pulling softly and releasing the skin with a soft pop. Vince smirks, and his hands are no longer holding me softly. His grip changes, his fingers claw into my back and possessively hold me closer to him with a jerk that eliminates any space left between us. He shifts the hand from my collar to grasp my neck firmly, and he holds my jaw firmly in his strong, calloused hand. “Don’t think that you won’t pay for taking advantage of my distractedness and using it to act like a whore, attempting to get into my pants.”
“I thought you wanted me to be your whore?” I giggle, and he tightens the hold on my throat, stopping me from saying anything else. My breath is severed from my lungs and heat unfurls deep in my belly, and travels lower so quickly it makes me dizzy. Not once for a single day of the time that we have been married, well, since he has been back in my life in any capacity, have I stopped being ready for him. Any hour, no matter what I’m doing, my body responds to him like a wanton creature fully removed from me.
Vince walks the pair of us backward until I feel my ass hit against the marble countertop. Automatically, I start to shift my hips so that I can sit on top of the surface, thinking that’s what he wants – but he surprises me. He releases his hold and he spins me quickly. Vince pins my hips against the countertop with his, and I am thrust forward so that my forehead is nearly touching the large, expansive mirror running the length of the counter. I’m reminded of the first time that he fucked me in this bathroom, memories of the delicious sting of pain that echoed inside of my body for days afterward have me a mess inside of my jeans. They’re the same jeans that Vince is roughly forcing down my hips until my ass is bare and exposed to him, taking my thong down with them.
There is a need in his movements, an urgency that means I don’t want to bother with any foreplay, I just need him. I want that animal side of him to crush me against the counter. Vince lowers his slacks just enough to free himself, his hot length pressed against my ass, then he rubs it along the center of me. I arch my back encouragingly, but Vince puts a firm hand on the back of my neck, keeping me exactly where he wants me as he teases me. “Please,” I beg.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
I nod enthusiastically, my hands are pressed into the countertop as I attempt to push back into him, a soft mewl leaves my lips as he runs his dick along the center of me, teasing me where I want him the most.
“It’s only been a couple of hours and you couldn’t even wait until later, could you?”
He eases the tip inside of me slowly, the teasing taste is torture to me. I want all of him, and I want him now.
“Well, if you want it so bad,” I can see Vince glance at the Rolex on his wrist indicating that we don’t have much time left. “You better make it worth my time.” He slides the rest of his length inside of me and I’m breathless, waiting for the shunt of his hips forward that simply never comes. I glance up at him in the mirror, him stretching me, filling me, and I’m not getting what I want. Vince slaps my bare ass, hard, and I moan. “Get to it,” he slaps my ass on the other side for good measure and I start moving. I round my hips back into his, but I can’t seem to manage to take him as deeply or as hard as I like it whenever he does it. His powerful thighs always manage to angle him at the exact angle that makes my toes curl.
Though, there is no denying the erotic look on his face as he enjoys himself, that I’m the one making him feel this way never ceases to make me feel powerful. It feels like I’m climbing up a familiar hill, but I cannot find the path that is so beloved and familiar to me.
“Seems like you’re struggling,” Vince teases, his voice dark and sensual. “Do you need some help?”
“Please, please sir, I need it, I need you so bad.”
Vince grabs my hips, and doesn’t make me wait another second, he slams into me so hard I have to throw my hand against the mirror to keep from colliding with it face first. My eyes roll into the back of my head as that painful sensation of him going nearly too deep buckles my knees until I’m only held up by his strong hands as he takes his pleasure from my body.
“Guys?” A familiar voice precedes a small fist banging at the locked bedroom door. I can hear the jiggling of the handle to the master suite and my sister’s impatient tones floating into the space. Vince hauls me back to his chest and covers my mouth and nose with his large hand until I can’t breathe, I can’t scream, and he doesn’t stop.
“Guys! We are going to be late!” Deborah singsongs and I look up to Vince’s chin, his beautiful brown eyes hold me captive as he chases his finish, and I want him there. His other hand snakes between the front of my thighs and circles my clit.
“Cum for me right fucking now if you want to please me,” Vince growls, slightly breathless and I can’t move. I’m paralyzed and couldn’t answer my sister even if I wanted to. It doesn’t take much for me to fall apart in my husband’s arms, putty as I cum. Tidal waves of pleasure that reach higher levels as I feel Vince’s orgasm fill my insides. He holds me until the tremors shake and presses a soft kiss to my temple as he slides himself from me. Such a gentle contrast from how we were a moment ago.
I want more.
I wish there was time for more, but we have to go if we aren’t going to be late. I pull my pants back up, and Vince finishes dressing, He grabs his jacket from the hanger that it was resting on and flings it over one shoulder, holding it with one finger as he opens the door for me, and steps back for me to pass through. “Remind me why we’re bringing her?” Vince says with good-natured humor, he and Deborah have become close since she’s moved in with us, into her own wing just like Vince promised that she would. She is under the best medical care that money can buy. I don’t think there is any other single thing that I or Vince could do in order to care for her.
“You try telling her no to something,” I answer, “let me know how that goes.”
****
The car stops in front of a familiar place. There is nobody out front to greet us. The exterior of the home could use a couple of new shades of paint, and the grass is browning in certain patches. The lawn decorations are sun-weathered, and I couldn’t even attempt to guess as to how old they must be. The iron gate that is repurposed as a screen door is rusted and broken in some places, but the lawn is manicured and everything seems to be in place. An old car sits in the driveway. A classic that I don’t know anything about, I’m sure. It seems to be even better-taken care of than the rest of the property.
I didn’t think to ask about his aunt, or if she was still living. It’s a huge misstep on my part because I am not the sort of girl to show up to somebody else’s house empty-handed, least of all if it is a woman. Somehow if Ben is living here alone, I don’t think he would care one way or another if I brought him a display of pretty flowers. I like that he’s still living in the same house that served as his childhood home.
“I only stayed here sometimes, when things got too bad.” Vince offers, but I can see how affected he is by seeing this house again. It’s clearly written all across his face. “Not as often as Benjamin, she didn’t offer to take me in like she did him. Maybe it was an age thing, or maybe she just didn’t like me, thought that I looked too much like my father or something.” He rolls one shoulder, and suddenly having not been close with Ben growing up makes a lot more sense to me if they were kept separate. “I thought that as long as he was here, then he would avoid the type of life that I had to live. I thought that he could grow up better, do better in school because my aunt would make him. That was always something that was super important to her, to make sure that he was in school and that he got good grades…then it all just went to hell.”
Vince is quiet for a moment, and I lift my hand just about to place it on his knee for emotional support whenever he thrusts open the car door and exits. The ‘Vince King’ persona snaps into place so quickly, and it takes him a moment to catch what he’s done and correct it.
I follow and when Vince hesitates from ringing the doorbell, I do it for him.
The door opens, and Benjamin is standing there, the brothers are only divided by the screen door, staring at one another. I slip my fingers between Vince’s and squeeze his hand tightly. “Breathe,” I mutter out of the side of my mouth and Vince sucks oxygen into his lungs all at once.
They are about the same height, and I can see the similarities between Ben and Albert, thought with all of the surgery that Vince has had, they do not look much like brothers apart from the stunning, warm, beautiful brown eyes.
Benjamin swings open the screen door, and steps forward toward Vince, and I think that this could go either way, but then Ben wraps his arms around his older brother tightly, so tightly it builds a knot of happiness in my chest. I don’t want to cry, I do but I want to keep it together as best as I can. I’m so happy for him. I’m so proud of him, of us, of all of the things that we have accomplished.
The brother’s part after a long time, and Benjamin wipes underneath one of his eyes with his index finger. “Do you want to come inside?” he asks, and Vince nods.
“Yeah,” he looks into the door, gazing at the house inside of it. Does it look the same? “Yes. I would like that.”
Benjamin holds the door open for us, and gestures that we should come in and make ourselves at home. “We have so much time to make up for, big brother.”
***
Leaving Ben’s place, I see a release in Vince, a weight that he carried on his shoulders has now been lifted. Ben graduated from college and has a degree in business. He is still sifting through jobs so he could land the perfect one. I know Vince wanted to offer his help to Ben for a job, but he refrained.
“I think that went so well,” I tell Vince, squeezing his knee when we are back in the car. “I know it was a lot to take in. And you have a lot to process,” I tell him.
“It went better than I even hoped. I’m just glad we can start building our relationship slowly. If I were him, I probably would have slammed the door in my face.”
“But he didn’t,” I reply. “No matter what, you two will always be brothers. Blood. And it looks like that bond will only strengthen as time goes on.”
Vince smiles at me. “Thank you for being there with me.”
I smile and reach over, stroking the back of his neck.
We ride home in silence, enjoying the quiet and the scenery as the leaves have started to turn every color the brings the reminder of Fall. A season I very much look forward to.
Arriving home, I take Vince by the hand and lead us to the bedroom. “You are insatiable, woman,” he says with a smirk.
“It’s not that, now sit,” I order Vince to sit on the edge of the bed and head to the bathroom to retrieve something.
“What are you up to?” Vince asks suspiciously.
“Well, you know how we have finally settled down and gotten into a routine. We’ve even given Deborah her own wing of our place.”
He circles his hand around my waist, bringing me closer. “Yes.”
I pull the back from behind my back and hand it to him.
“What’s this?”
“Open it,” I tell him. “Our routine is about to shift a little.”
He pulls the bow apart and lifts the lid of the box. Pulling out the small piece of garment, Vince stares at it in disbelief. “Is this for real?” He asks about the baby onesie that says ‘Baby King,’ on it.
I nod and try to stop the happy tears that are about to fall. “Are you happy?”
“Happy? Emma, you just made me the happiest man on earth. I never knew kids would be a part of my future. Of our future. I wasn’t sure it was possible with all the injuries I’ve endured and then the surgeries. But I’m going to be a dad. And you are gonna be a mom.” He stands and hugs me tight.
“Let’s go tell Deborah the happy news,” he says. I swipe my tears away even though I am overcome with emotions. Vince and I finally get the future we have always wanted. The future we have always dreamed about.
