Chapter One

Nikolai

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.”

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Prologue

Maxine

Past – Aged Twelve

“How about this show, honey?”

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.

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Chapter One

Diana

I’ve always liked the snow.

I think that sitting here, watching the snowfall covering every inch of my family’s home, is one of the more peaceful ways to spend an evening.

My mom’s been searching for me for the better part of half an hour now. I’ve heard her walking up and down the halls, first calling my name and then screeching it. Dunno why she didn’t think to check the balcony; I’m always out here.

Since Nathaniel went missing, she is holding onto me far more tightly. Too tightly. It’s not that I don’t love my mother, or that I have a bad relationship with her, because I don’t. Most days, my mother is one of my very best friends, but since her son—my brother, also known as the head of the Angelo family—Nathaniel went missing, she’s been a little less composed.

She plays the dutiful, stoic leader and stands in whenever there’s anybody around, but whenever it’s just the two of us and those loyal to the Angelo family in the house, she can get a little neurotic.

I get it.

She’s lost her son, her oldest child, and she’s left with me. Nathaniel is the sort of man you can turn to for anything at all; he fit my father’s shoes perfectly whenever he stepped in as head of the family. I know she worries that if an unknown something happened to Nathaniel of all people, it might very well happen to me as well.

She’s been waiting for a ransom call—we all have—for some news as to his condition, and things have been painfully silent. My mother had no desire to be head of this family; she never wanted to run the empire any more than I have. The stress of it alone has been doing terrible things to both her body and her persona.

Nathaniel was always more like Dad, loud and larger than life. Being the head of the family was never a burden to him. It was a crown that he was happy to wear, and he was well suited for it. I was more than happy to let him handle the whole thing. Even if a woman was allowed to run the show as head of the family, I wouldn’t have wanted it anyway. It was too starchy, and I like my freedom. Just another reason why I like driving.

There’s no way to know what happened to Nathaniel or where he might be, but I know in my bones that he’s alive somewhere. We have the best private investigators and our entire network of contacts working on finding out leads and information.

I just hope they find something soon.

I think that’s the second biggest worry in my mother’s mind, that without a male to lead the family she’s not sure how long she will be able to bide our time before the vultures start to circle, intent on picking apart the famous Angelo family bit by bit.

Perhaps that’s why I need my alone time even more right now.

Sometimes looking my mother in the face and seeing the silent question of if Nathaniel is dead or not on her features is more than I can handle.

Attached to my bedroom is a small balcony, the sort of setup that is great for reading while enjoying early morning coffee. The view of the grounds is absolutely stunning. You can see everything for at least half a mile, and it’s high up enough to see clearly over the stables. My mother will likely head down there next to where her beloved racing horses are barned, being kept warm and well cared for by a whole team of equestrians. I’ve always liked it down there, but I’ve never been much of a rider.

Beside my balcony, the roof slants downward and is easy enough to step onto. I’m sitting there now, listening to her searching through the open balcony doors. The carpet just inside of my room is going to be soaked through with the melted snow, and I just can’t bring myself to care. It’s peaceful, and after the day that I’ve had, I need peace. Whatever my mother wants me to do is just going to have to wait.

I pull my blanket further around my shoulders, pulling my glass of red wine closer to my body as the snow swallows up all of the sounds around me. The entirety of our property is blanketed in white.

Sure enough, moments later, warm yellow light spills out over the grounds below me, disrupting the stillness of the night, and my mother starts stomping her way out toward the stables in search of me. She’ll get distracted in there. She always does. I chuckle to myself, content to spend my evening attempting to uncoil the knots of tension and dread that have taken hold of my shoulders and threaten to cripple me.

The door to my bedroom slams open, and I nearly fumble the wine right out of my hand.

“Miss!”

I don’t have time to even clamber off the roof before the owner of the voice is stomping through my room. She slammed the door so hard behind her that I can hear the thing bounce in the frame before she comes barreling onto the balcony.

“Oh, Diana! It’s the worst thing ever!” Violet wails. She’s never been very good as a maid, but she’s always been a much better friend to me. I think we blurred the lines between staff and friendship too far, too long ago to even attempt to put things back the way they were. She could stop working tomorrow, and I think she would still stay here on payroll just so that I can hang out with her every day.

If it were anybody else, I might have taken more offense to the intrusion, or at the very least I might seem slightly more concerned about the tone that she’s using. The clear urgency is written all over her face, but the unfortunate truth of the matter is that Violet’s always been on the dramatic side. Until I know what the cause for the theatrics is, I don’t know what level of invested I need to be.

“What is it, V? You know that I can’t understand you when you cry that hard.” My voice is nothing but patient as I scoot from the roof tiles toward my friend. I make it to the edge of the roof before she throws herself at me, and I’m forced to scoop her up into my blanket as I hold her.

“V, you’re trembling.” My hands rub in alternating directions, wrapped in blanket, up and down her back. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

If she makes me guess then we are going to be here for a long, long time. Last week she cried because the blueberries in the pancakes she made me didn’t come out the way that she wanted them to. I’ve seen her cry because a puppy was too cute, and she couldn’t physically process it. I saw her break her arm once, and she hardly even flinched. She’s never reacted to things in the way that I would have thought that she would. This could be anything from a chipped nail to her mother’s death.

“It’s Thomas!”

My shoulders relax, something she takes instant offense to and pulls away.

“No! Diana, it’s not what you think!”

“And what do I think, V? Did you break up again?”

“What?! No!” she blubbers, as if that hadn’t happened twice last week, not that she ever let that impressively sized rock off her finger for a second. They had called off their wedding more times than I could count. At this point, I was almost going to take the bet that Girard, my butler, kept offering me as to whether or not she was actually going to make it down the aisle to Thomas. I didn’t mind the guy; he was a security guard assigned to the perimeters of our house. They had a really cute little love story, but man, was it hard to keep up with them.

“Then what happened?”

“They took him!”

That sobers me up quickly. “Who took him? Tell me exactly what happened, V,” I say seriously, my hands gripping her arms and forcing her to look into my eyes. Her normally pale face is ruddy and peppered with splotches from her crying.  Her gorgeous red hair is a halo of messy curls sticking out of the bun that she attempts to wrangle it into for work, but it nearly always comes undone over the course of the day. She looks like she’s been crying a while.

“I—” Violet sniffs. She pulls away from me and starts pacing the length of my balcony like the rapidly thickening snow if of no consequence to her whatsoever. “I don’t know…he was at his new job when he called me.”

“The moonlighting one?”

Violet nods, “Mmhm, the one he’s been doing to get those store discounts that he likes. He’s trying to let me redecorate our space before the wedding; he’s sweet like that.” Violet’s chin dimples as if him being sweet and indulging in her rapidly changing opinions on decor makes her miss him even more. “We were on the phone, and he started whispering to me really fast. I tried to tell him that I couldn’t understand what he was saying and he needed to slow down…that I couldn’t hear him. And he shushed me, which he never does. And then he got real quiet…it switched over to a video call, but then he dropped the phone and-and there were feet, and they came up on him real quiet, and I could see them fighting, and then he hit the ground. My baby, he fell to the ground, and I couldn’t do anything. And they took him—they took him away.”

“Who took him, V? Did you see any of their faces?” I’m already switching into defensive mode; that internal training and my desire to constantly fix things is already kicking in hard. “Tell me he told you who they were…or what he thought. Tell me that he told you something that will help us get him back.”

Violet flusters, and I can see her attempting to squash down the dramatics and recall anything that might be useful.

“He didn’t do anything, did he? I know you hate talking about it, V, but he did have that gambling problem…are you sure that it wasn’t—”

“No! I’ve been watching our accounts so close, and he’s banned from like all of the bars here. You know that. He can’t even step foot into a casino, and I thank you for that, so much. He said something about the Lords…”

My jaw tightens, anger heating my core, and suddenly I can’t feel the snow at all. “Rat bastards,” I swear, my teeth grinding together. “What could they want with Thomas? Everybody knows that he does guard work for us. He’s supposed to be protected.”

As is everybody that works for the Angelo family. We’re a bit of a big deal, something that I choose not to acknowledge overly often unless it suits me. Plenty of people would love to be the beloved daughter of a powerful mafia family, sure—and then there’s the Angelo family. We’re practically royalty in this town, rivaled by only one family: the Lords.

If they have the nerve to interfere with our business…that’s not a misunderstanding.

“What am I going to do?!” Violet’s lip sucks between her teeth, the panic gripping her again. “What if they hurt him? I can’t lose him, Diana. I can’t…I love him.”

“I know you do, V. Nothing bad is going to happen to him.”

She came to me for a reason after all.

“I’m going to fix this. Right now. Don’t you worry.” I wrap her into my blanket and pull the edges around her tightly, leaning in to kiss her forehead in a friendly gesture. “You sit here and flip through channels or something to kill the time, and I’ll be back with Thomas before you know it.”

“What are you going to do?!”

“I may not like it, but I know the Lord family very well, V. They will talk to me if I show up on their door, and it’s going to mean a hell of a lot more coming from me and asking soft questions than it will if my mom goes over there and starts throwing around accusations, don’t you think?”

Violet looks like she might want to protest but thinks better of it. Even if she did, I’ve made up my mind, and there’s no way that I’m going to change it. “The snow…Diana, you can’t go. Haven’t you heard the news? They are saying that a blizzard is supposed to hit town any hour now. They’ve been telling people to stock up on candles and water in case we are all without power for a few days. I can’t let you go out there.”

“Let me?”

“You can’t go! Thomas is already missing. I’m not going to have you chasing after him on my behalf and then have to have a search team dig you and your car out of a snowbank weeks from now because you got swallowed by the blizzard!”

I stop, looking out over the grounds once more. I take extra care to study the sky, judging the clouds and how the snow is presently falling, and shake my head. “No, I’ll be fine. I just have to go now.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“That’s not necessary; they are supposedly friends of my family these days. I can handle myself, V.”

“I know that you can, but I cannot have that fear on my conscious. I am going with you, and that’s final. At least that way your mom won’t blame me if something happens to you.”

I laugh, crossing to my massive walk-in closet and flinging open the doors. I march inside and select a winter coat with faux fur trim I got at a PETA auction last year and pull on my snow boots. I toss another jacket out onto my bed for Violet, motioning for her to go ahead and put it on. There’s no room for debate, and she complies.

“The real question is which car do we take?” It’s not really a question. I definitely have my favorite out of the cars in the garage, but my heart belongs to my Range Rover. We take the back elevator down to the garage, and the lights turn on as we walk into the space. The waves of anxiety are practically radiating off of Violet as we move, but to her credit, she doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t attempt to talk me out of driving either. The staff has given up on attempting to talk me out of driving myself places. I allow all of the other luxuries offered to me, but this is for me.

Violet is a statue in the seat beside me. We should have at least said something to my mom before leaving. I honestly don’t know what she would do if I didn’t return or if anything happened to me. My mother’s grip on me has been too tight with Nathaniel missing; she would never allow me to go to the Lord property in the dead of night. She would kill me herself if she knew what I was planning. She would insist on sending a small fleet of security with me, and we don’t have the time. If Thomas had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, or if he said the wrong thing to the wrong person, then I am exactly the right person to smooth things over.

I will not beg.

I refuse.

I could never beg to men like them, certainly not given my personal history with one Lord in particular, so we’ll just hope that it doesn’t come to that. They will listen to me, and if they don’t, then I will just have to make them.

Hostage negotiations aren’t my thing, but talking to arrogant men who think they know everything while also holding positions of power? Well, that I’ve been trained for my whole life. If they have Thomas, I’m going to get him back.

Chapter Two

Stephan

My arrival back into town was a little ahead of schedule.

I liked to make an entrance whenever I returned home from an extended period of time away, but I liked the element of surprise even better.

When I arrived at my family home, I thought that I might be awaited somehow anyway. My father tended to have a way of knowing just about everything that happened, most of all his only son’s arrival back home.

When the entryway was empty as I stepped inside out of the rapidly worsening snowstorm, I started to grow concerned.

Normally, my father would have made quite an elaborate deal out of parading the staff and any guests down to the entryway to greet me before insisting that he take me to the same restaurant that he always does, nevermind that it was never my favorite but my father’s favorite, but I was always happy to indulge him.

My gloves are yanked off my hands and tossed haphazardly over my shoulder; my scarf and jacket follow quickly after as I move into the belly of the large house. I couldn’t slow down long enough to pull my shoes from my feet, and they track fresh powder through the entry hall and then wet tracks on the plush carpet runner of the halls as I search for the man in question.

He summons me here in the black of night, and now he’s triggering my temper by making me wait. Whatever was so important that couldn’t be put into words in a text is now something that I absolutely must know. It’s been a little while since I’ve been back here, in my father’s home. I don’t have the time or patience to mentally track the changes that have been made or wonder if my room is still the same. Sentimental sap of an old man that I have, it was nearly impossible to convince him that as an adult I no longer needed to keep a childhood bedroom and would, in fact, be perfectly fine with a standard guest room when I visited, and he refused. He said it was insane to him to think that his only son wouldn’t have a dedicated space.

“Uncle William!” I bellow, waiting for him to show his round face, fully expecting for it to come popping around a corner at any moment. “Dad?!” I call even louder; surely they heard my car pull up. I had sent word that I would be back in the county this week. It’s not unusual for one or both of them to invite me over when I get back into town. It always feels like the only times that Dad ever allows himself to have a true break from the empire that he’s built is whenever I come back into town.

If he wanted to get drunk and play Pictionary all night, then he could just say that, but he doesn’t.

This is insane. Our property is simply too large to play this game and search every room. I set my feet on a course to my father’s office and pull my phone from my pocket, quickly dialing first my father and then my uncle and back again. William, my uncle, almost never has his phone on him, so that’s not usual for him to not answer. But my father never misses a phone call. The man always texts back within two hours, even if it’s the middle of the night.

He’s only ever been the stone-cold, ruthless mafia boss in public. Inside of these walls, he was never that person to me. Even if he used tough love rather liberally when it came to my upbringing, I never grew up without love.

The fact that he’s now missed five of my phone calls in a row…that’s what’s setting off the red flags in my head, blazing bright like beacons of warning that something is about to happen that I’m in no way prepared for.

William is seated in my father’s office. The supple leather armchair is used for guests that hold meetings with my father, but he’s sitting too stiff in it. William’s not a small man. Standing at six feet, he used to be an athlete but has physically softened with age, and his gut shows the rounding of a man who indulges in too much alcohol. He’s always had a round face, cherubic; he was like catnip to women in ways I never quite mastered.

William sits on the front edge of the chair, his spine too rigid as if he were in the middle of a conversation he couldn’t fathom having…but he’s alone. My father doesn’t sit across from him. I feel like I already know the news that I’m about to receive, even before he motions for me to sit down. “Have a seat, son.”

Would sitting make this news easier to hear? The knot in my throat forms before he even speaks, something about the way William’s jaw clenches, the sad look in his eyes, and I know. I just know.

My hand scrubs down the lower half of my face, and I stare at the seat offered to me as if the news cannot be real until I sit, that if I just keep standing here, he’s not about to tell me that my father is dead. If I sit there…then it’s all going to be real, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Can anybody really be ready for that?

My legs carry me to the chair, and I know I sit, but it all feels like a blur, a distant reality in which I’m allowed to live outside of my body. It’s a good thing that William doesn’t start speaking right away because my ears are ringing, and the room feels like it’s closing in on me.

I allow the moment of despair to last all of thirty seconds. Thirty seconds of wallow and ache, of mourning and a total, nearly consuming feeling of loss.

Then I push it away, and I will myself to be stone. I harden my exterior and narrow my focus to William and the fact that he needs to tell me what happened. “How?” There’s no need to beat around the bush, no need to worry about my emotions. It’s simpler to keep things clinical; I’ll have time for the rest of it later.

William swallows hard, as if he wants to offer me words of comfort or at least a playful slap to the side of my arm. “Shot.”

My head dips, and my hands clasp one another. My knuckles turn white with the force of my concentration.

“Caught bullets two nights ago. There was an ambush outside of our offices…” William trails off.

I have at least five follow-up questions to that statement, and William pauses to let me select them in the order I wish to ask them.

“Where were you?”

“Right beside him, all the way to the hospital. The doctors did everything that they could. The finest surgeons attempted to save him…but the damage was too much.”

I nod, unable to sit still; he should have called me. I would have flown home early. He could have gotten ahold of me, and I could have been here to be with my father for his last minutes. I would have taken a private jet and gotten here as fast as physically possible. Rage for the moments stolen surface, and I push those feelings down with the others. “Was he in pain?” The words come out too quickly, and I lift my hand to stop William from answering the question I didn’t mean to ask. I don’t want to know the answer. “Where are the bastards that shot my father?”

“We have everybody looking into it.”

That’s it? He must sense my affront to it because he keeps speaking.

“There’s more.”

“More than the fact that my father was gunned down in front of his own offices without provocation…and left to die on a surgeon’s table, and nobody thought to call me…you mean that there is more than that? You’ve had two nights to tell me, and you didn’t bother? There are arrangements to be made; there is business to attend to, not to mention the countless contracts that must be maintained. Or were you attempting to make a play for office yourself, William?”

My eyes are fire as they lift to my uncle’s; he’s never made any indication that he wanted the throne for himself, to take the seat that my father occupied. I thought that was why he was choosing to symbolically sit in the chair he chose.

“What? Stephan, I have no interest in being head of family.”

I stand, moving around the side of the desk to my father’s chair, hating that this will be where I sit now. It’s a job that I know I can do, and I know I can do it well. I’ve always been a natural leader…but I wasn’t ready to lose my father quite so soon. I pull the chair out and move in front of it, but I don’t sit. “Good. Then I’m going to need his medical reports, the life insurance policies, and his itinerary for the week.” Mentally, I’ve already started pushing aside all of my personal contracts and business happenings of my own companies because I know that I’m going to be needed here.

“That’s the other thing, Stephan; my son has expressed to myself and some others that he is intending to place his bid for head of the family.”

“Elijah?” I laugh incredulously. “His claim is shaky at best. He was my father. Elijah would be a reckless choice.”

My personal history with Elijah is shaky at best. I know him better than anybody else has managed to in his life, I’m fairly certain, and I know for a fact that he’s the last person I want in charge of this family. He’s hot-headed, temperamental, and far too impulsive. Despite the fact that he’s thirty-three, and three years older than myself, he’s about half as mature as I’ve ever been. Always the type to jump first and think about the consequences after the fact. There was no shoot first, ask questions later—there was only ever just shooting.

“He says that since he’s the oldest heir that his claim is as solid as yours to the throne and that he will not be turned aside. Believe me, Stephan, I’ve tried to talk him out of this. That’s why we had delays in funeral arrangements as well as getting you back here into the mansion for talks…he’s already attempting to make moves.”

“Well, I’ll just have to nip that in the bud, won’t I?”

“I sure hope that you’re going to have a lot more luck than I’ve had. The boy never listened to me before, and I doubt that he’s going to start doing so now. Elijah’s always been a greedy little shit; there’s no denying that.” William says, not hiding the fact that he and his son rarely have ever seen eye to eye and clearly not on this issue either. “He’s not somebody you can trust, Stephan; you know that.”

“Right,” I agree. “So what’s the question then? Just ignore him.”

“It’s not that easy, I’m afraid. It seems that some people have actually started to support his claims. The cousins are on the verge of being threatened into an agreement; his tongue is as silver as ever.”

“People do love his particular breed of chaos.”

“You just need to cement your claim, Stephan. Then all of this will be over, and we can get right back to business as usual.”

There will never be business as usual again, not without my father. I’m not sure that I’m going to be okay with this particular brand of new normal, but I say nothing. Instead, I make a gesture for him to continue speaking; if he has a suggestion then I want him to get it out into the open so that I can move forward. There’s so much to do, and I cannot risk being idle. If I don’t start on what needs to be done, and right away, then there’s a small chance that I won’t be able to start at all.

Despite what my reputation might claim about me, I am very capable of having emotions. I know all too well that people call me cold, heartless, ruthless, downright evil behind my back. That’s exactly what I’ve always needed them to call me; it’s a part that I play very well. That was one thing that I learned from my father very early on in life: that in this game, you only get anywhere by your reputation, and men looked up to men they could fear and see as a leader at the same time. I’ve always embodied that publicly to every person I’ve met.

Personal feelings are for private, another gem of knowledge that my father lived by.

Lived.

The knot in my throat grows, and, like all the rest, I force it lower, mind over matter as I look to William, waiting for his answer.

“The simplest way to strengthen your claim is a unified family front, which means that you need to find a wife.”

“A wife?!” I echo.

“Yes. Preferably from a high-born mafia family and as soon as you can before my son catches wise to that same idea and makes his moves.”

The idea of Elijah with a wife is impossible. I can’t imagine the sort of woman that might agree to such a union and least of all by choice. Not because he’s considered ugly or because he’s not without a certain charm, but I don’t think there’s ever been a woman capable of sticking around him for that long. Elijah is a powerful man, and despite all of the rest of it, I do consider him a friend, not just family. Elijah’s priority will always be serving the family, the Lord family, not a wife; she would only get in his way.

“One does not just pluck a wife out of thin air, William, and a high-born mafia daughter at that? They aren’t the sort that can be bought in the first place.”

“I have a few trusted men compiling a list of currently single women that might be suitable to you for your consideration, and whoever you choose, we will fly her right out here and make her an offer that she simply cannot refuse.”

“I see. You’ve just thought of everything, haven’t you William?”

“Son, I know that it’s not ideal, and I know it’s sudden and rather eliminates the whole love side of things out of the picture. But this is hardly uncommon; it’s been done for political power and influence for generations.”

“You do not need to lecture me about our family history, William; I know it just as well as you. Just because I’ve chosen to spend my time pursuing my own business ventures over these last few years doesn’t mean that I’ve been out of the loop here.”

“Of course not, and I would expect nothing less from you. Just like your father, always able to see everything at the same time and three steps ahead of the rest of us.”

I should have seen the wife aspect coming. Really, it’s such an obvious solution but one I’ve had little to no interest in finding for myself. I’ve been busy expanding our capital, our influence, and business range…and in truth, I’ve been indulging myself as I wanted. What I never would have seen coming is that, the moment that William suggested it, one name came to mind. The only daughter of the nearest mafia family…and a woman who has sworn to hate me for all time.

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Chapter One

Clelia

Staying up all night waiting for my brother is getting on my nerves. This isn’t the first time he’s stumbled in at the crack of dawn smelling of liquor and the perfume of loose women with questionable values.

But of course, he doesn’t care how much I worry about him.

My father claims that it’s just a phase he’s going through, that all young men must blow off some steam, but I’m not convinced. His mood swings are getting increasingly unpredictable, and driving home drunk is something he does too often―to my chagrin.

I always jump out of my skin when I hear his car squealing to a stop in the driveway. Losing our mother sent him into a tailspin, and I can’t always be the voice of reason.

But my brother is not the only one I’m worrying about. My father is also falling apart before my eyes. There isn’t a moment where he doesn’t have a drink in his hand. The photograph of my mother is tear-stained from his pining in the middle of the night for something he can’t have.

The house is desolate, and the only sound anyone can hear is the clock down the hallway.  It was a wedding gift from my father to my mother. She didn’t want to admit it, but she told me in confidence it was garishly ugly. It’s the thought that counts, though. He’s never been good at finding the right gift.

However, I don’t have time to grieve when my family demands my full attention. I can’t follow them around twenty-four hours a day, but I can be there when they walk in, ashamed of whatever they’re doing. The guilt is in their eyes―they look at their shoes, afraid to look at me. And even though I really disapprove of their ways, I know that it’s not fair to judge them.

They have every right to lash out, even in ways I don’t approve.

I’ve considered talking to them about going into family therapy, but I’m not sure how they’ll receive it. They know I fret. The world is a dangerous place, especially when someone is under the influence of alcohol. Who knows what could happen to them?

My white terrycloth robe is cinched tight at the waist. I toy with the strap nervously, pacing at the front door. The sun is already up, and I can hear the birds singing in the trees.

I catch my reflection in the glass of the door and I almost don’t recognize myself. It shows a woman older than her twenty-four years. The haggard expression is reserved for mothers waiting for their children to come home after a late night. I don’t want to be a replacement for my mother, but they leave me little choice.

A powerful engine approaches and comes to an abrupt stop at the door. Lucas is home, and it’s a miracle that he managed to arrive in one piece. That’s evident by the tire tracks on the lawn. The red sports car is angled with the wheels digging into the earth.

I open the door and wait impatiently with my arms crossed. Boy, he is about to get scolded…

Lucas Stephens is walking a dangerous path. Life is harsh, but he’s the only one that can make his own happiness. Drowning himself in alcohol, thinking that he will be able to forget our misfortunes, won’t help him. He doesn’t understand the concept, but I continue to preach responsibility and obligation to the family, just in case someone hears my pleas.

He walks towards me, unsteady on his feet. He’s barely able to hold onto the empty beer can clutched in his fist. He almost falls but manages to hold onto the car to steady himself, though he doesn’t lose hold of the can.

This is as bad as I’ve ever seen him. Maybe he needs to fall deeper into a dark hole before he can crawl back out of it. They say hitting rock bottom is the only way an alcoholic is going to learn. I’m not sure that I want to wait when it already kills me to see him losing everything, including his girlfriend.

“Do I even want to ask where you’ve been?” I ask sternly.

“I’m not in the mood for one of your lectures, dear baby sister. Besides, I should be frowning at you! Why didn’t you pick up your phone? I’ve been trying to call you all night. It just continues to go to voicemail,” he replies with his words slurring, while he runs his fingers through his hair awkwardly like a child who’s done mischief.

He’s not the usual polished young man, coming home after a hard day’s work.

“Look at yourself,” I refer to the white shirt hanging loosely over his pants with his zipper half undone.

There are lipstick marks on his cheek and neck, with the pungent aroma of perfume surrounding him in a halo. He’s lost a shoe, and his sleeves are rolled up to the elbow. His blond, gray hair is in disarray, with a few locks floating aimlessly over his dark blue eyes.

“I don’t need you looking at me like that. I tried to reach you,” he continues while draining the last few drops from the beer can.

“Couldn’t you call in our home number? My phone went dead. It’s currently charging in my bedroom. Do you have any idea of how long I’ve been up? I’m ready to wash my hands of you,” I say, rolling my eyes in frustration.

“Don’t give me that attitude,” he says before dropping the can at my feet with the remnants dripping onto my bare toes.

I take a deep breath and try desperately to hold my tongue. “I made sure there’s coffee ready for you when you came home. Drink some and take a shower before we discuss anything that you want. You stink,” I say with my finger pointing into his chest to get his undivided attention.

“Clelia, I don’t need coffee or a shower. What I need is another drink. Something stronger than beer. I’m sure father has something at the bar,” he says while stumbling into the living room until he falls to his knees, mumbling something under his breath.

“I’m not taking no for an answer. You need to sober up and take a shower before father comes home,” I add.

He glances over his shoulder, and I see tears in his eyes. Oh my God, what has happened?

“I needed you this night. I was the one that had to identify his body in that cold, impersonal morgue. Do you have any idea what seeing him like that did to me?” Lucas says.

He’s crawling now across the carpet toward the bar, and I can hear my heart thumping.

“I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” I say. In truth, I’m afraid that once I do, my whole world will change again.

I’m standing in front of him, blocking his path to the bottle of bourbon.

“He was found on the street like a stray dog. My number was the latest call on his phone. They called me,” he said with his finger pointing at his chest while trying to keep his head high.

“Who was found on the street?” I inquire with my eyes narrowed, trying to calm myself down, trying to make myself believe that it is not my worst fear coming alive.

I’m staring daggers at him.

“He died of blunt trauma to the head, just one block over from the Leonessa Strip Club. You know he hasn’t been able to stay away from the place. It was just a matter of time before somebody saw him as an easy mark,” Lucas says.

The realization of what he’s been trying to say strikes me like lightning. It can’t be true. I just saw him yesterday afternoon. We had a horrible argument about his drinking and carousing all hours of the day and night.

These habits of his aren’t just affecting the family, but he’s also losing respect from his peers. Our small candy factory is suffering, and several creditors are already knocking on the door.

“No Lucas, no…you have to be mistaken. Father cannot be dead. Why would you be so cruel, as to say such things to me?”

“I saw him with my own eyes lying there, Clelia―lifeless. I had warned him many times about going to Leonessa. I truly did! You just know Constantino Negrini had something to do with this. That man is a danger to everybody around him,” he says while looking up at me.

“Oh my God…you’re telling the truth.” The full weight of his words is finally sinking in, and the name Lucas mentions has come out of many people’s nightmares.

Constantino Negrini, owner of the Leonessa Strip Club and many more illicit businesses. His reputation isn’t good, but nothing ever sticks to him. He’s been arrested a few times but has good lawyers on a retainer. Any crime connected to him isn’t all that surprising. The man is the devil personified. Not much is known about his background, and he’s been the subject of several investigations already. They even raided his home and club but found nothing to incriminate him.

Police officers lost their jobs when they came back empty-handed, and now, Lucas tells me that he must be involved in my father’s death…

Losing my mother feels like it happened yesterday, but thirteen years have passed. On the anniversary of her death, my family begins to unravel. My father’s trips to the strip club and gambling have racked up some good, fat debts. I’m not sure, but I think he got into bed with the wrong people using our candy factory to help smuggle goods in and out of the country. There’s no concrete proof, and my father was reluctant to talk about it despite my growing concerns. And now these concerns seem to have become reality.

I fall back against the wall with my hand to my beating heart.

“I think it was murder.”

“What?” I stare at him. “Murder? Who would want to murder father? He was a good man.”

Lucas gives a lopsided shrug and rises to his feet.

“You know what people will do when they’re giving out punishment. It can often go too far, and then they panic.”

“What are you talking about?”

For a while, I think that my brother didn’t hear me. Lucas stands staring into the void.

“Lucas, talk to me. What are you talking about?”

“I know who killed our father. He’s said as much to my face before. And with his temper…” Lucas turns, his reddened eyes locking with mine. “I never thought he would carry it out, though. I thought it was just talk to frighten us.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“It was Constantino Negrini.” Lucas blinks a few times and then looks away, rubbing his eyes hard.

“This is the second time that you are mentioning him. Why would the owner of a club murder father? What would he gain from that?”

“Non-payment of debts.”

“But father always tried to pay his debts.”

Lucas grunts.

“He doesn’t always tell you everything, Clelia. Father was in more debt than you realize. And he refused to accept it until Negrini addressed it. Negrini threatened to do some damage to him if he didn’t pay it last night. Now look what’s happened.”

Constantino Negrini. My father’s murderer. Even as that sinks in, I can feel a part of me fighting that logic.

“A club owner wouldn’t murder someone simply because he owes them money.”

“You don’t know Constantino Negrini,” Lucas says darkly. “He’s a very vindictive, hot-tempered man. He’ll do anything to get his own way, and he’s always close to snapping.”

“But to murder a man because of an unpaid debt…”

“He is a mafia boss, Clelia. A Don, a mobster.” Lucas shakes his head and runs his hands through his hair, making it stand up on end. “I warned father that we shouldn’t be going there anymore, but father said he could handle it. He always thought he could handle it.” He begins to shake, and then he starts towards the door. “Excuse me, Clelia, but I…I need to be alone.”

I stare after him as my brother leaves, the door slamming behind him hard enough to make the vase on a nearby table topple off and smash to pieces on the floor.

Constantino

It’s not my proudest moment, but it had to be done. Nobody disrespects me, and I don’t care what their family name invokes in others.

I use one of my monogrammed handkerchiefs to open the door with my hands covered in blood.

It’s not my own, but sometimes business needs me to take a more personal approach. The look in the man’s eyes was priceless. He tried to barter for his life, but he should have thought about that before double crossing me. Backing out of a business deal is one thing. Selling my merchandise to the Russians thinking that they can get away with it, is something completely different.

His blood stains my soul, but it’s not the first time. I’ve had to make an example out of somebody, and even though I’m not usually the one to get my hands dirty anymore, I’m willing to make some exceptions to the rule.

He’s not dead, but he wishes he was.

The house is quiet when I enter. Nobody is there to greet me, and I go straight to the bathroom underneath the stairs to wash up.

Watching the blood flow down the drain is a cathartic exercise, but it doesn’t wash away the sin. Nothing ever will, because everybody needs to know about what happens when they cross me.

Upstairs I hear my boy scream. I clutch my fist while staring at my cold dead eyes reflected in the mirror.

“That little bastard,” I mutter. I thought it was going to be different this time. He promised me he would be on his best behavior.

Can it be that I’m asking too much of him? I know that he’s never been the same since his mother left. I cannot fill that void, but I give him everything and I’m trying to keep him busy and entertained 24/7. Apparently, it’s not enough.

Otello is a difficult child with tantrums, and extreme therapy has done little to curb his attitude. Of course, some doctor wouldn’t be able to get through to him that easily. He is my son after all. It’s in our Negrini blood to be defiant and demanding. I have to admit that I’m proud that he is not easy to manipulate, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s still a little boy who must learn discipline, manners, and patience.

I make myself presentable by running my hands through my hair, while inspecting my appearance in the mirror. Considering the day I had, I’m not looking that bad, however, I have to admit that dealing with traitors tires me more and more these days. Being in your thirties is supposed to be just a number, but every day I feel heavier from the responsibilities that I have. It doesn’t mean that I’m all work and no play, of course. Women flock to power, and I don’t mind a distraction from time to time. Now that I think about it, I might need a new toy to spend the night with later. I could certainly use some decompression.

I stretch my arms in the air and move my head back and forth. Well, fun will have to wait. The footsteps above me are moving quickly down the hall away from my little boy’s room, as I exit the bathroom. She’s not the first tutor to feel the sting of his words, and she probably won’t be the last.

“I don’t need this,” Maria shouts on her way down the stairs.

She’s frantically putting on her coat as a litany of Spanish words flow freely.

I know enough of the language to see that she’s cursing my boy under her breath. I could snap her neck for talking shit about my family, but knowing Otello, he might deserve it a little. Still, she should hold her tongue.

I place my hand in front of her to stop her forward momentum.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” I say, wearing my stone-cold stare.

“You don’t think so, Sir? He kicked me and then spat in my face. I’ve been a teacher for almost fifteen years, and I’ve never encountered anyone like him. You need to put a muzzle on that kid before he hurts somebody,” she says with her nostrils flaring.

“Watch your mouth when you talk of my son, otherwise you will be searching for your precious little tongue. I won’t have you talking about my child like that. I’m sure we can come up with some kind of compensation.” I insult her then try to convince her to stay in the same breath.

“I know who you are and what you are capable Mr. Negrini, but that kid is the devil. What he needs is an exorcism. I’m leaving, and I never want to hear from you again. Keep your money, because I don’t want anything to do with it or your family,” she says with her hands in her pockets, throwing the cash I gave her last week at my feet.

She stares at my shoes with her eyes unblinking. I’m not sure why she has this reaction until I take a look myself. There’s blood on the tips, and she’s already halfway out the door before I get the chance to talk to her more.

“Everybody has a price. Name yours,” I call out after her.

“I’m sorry, but I have to think about my sanity. No amount of money will make me go back up there,” she says with the door slamming hard enough to make it echo throughout the house.

Oh, he is in trouble! I climb the stairs with my fingers gliding across the polished banister until I reach the top landing. I’m getting tired of having the same argument with my boy. I know exactly what he’s going to say the moment I step through the door.

Otello is sitting on his bed, legs crossed and arms folded, wearing his Scooby-Doo pajamas.

“What do you have to say for yourself, young man?” I address him with a stern expression.

“I want to go to school like other kids,” he says without moving.

His face is a mask of anger and resentment, and I can see our resemblance right there. Stubborn to the end like his father.

However, homeschooling is his only option, even if he is too young to understand why. I’m not just any man. People fear me by my reputation alone, and I have enemies willing to do anything to get to me. I cannot expose my own child to a world who is ready to bring me down by hurting him. I have committed my sins, and I happily live with them. But Otello must be protected.

“That is the fourth teacher you’ve run out of the house, and I’m losing my patience, young man. I will have none of it again, or the punishment will be severe. In the meantime, get dressed and meet me downstairs for breakfast. Tiffany will look after you while I take care of business,” I say as his eyes light up at the very notion of spending time with Tiffany. She is indeed a gorgeous woman, and it looks like my little man has refined tastes already.

I walk out into the hall, where I crack my knuckles and take a deep breath to calm the storm inside of me. There has to be somebody out there that can reach this kid. I’m just going to have to continue the search, but I don’t hold much hope.

He needs somebody with strict discipline, but most are afraid to speak to him harshly at the risk of displeasing me. It goes with the territory when I have the city in the palm of my hands. They should be afraid of me. They should cower in their boots, waiting for a kind word of praise from my lips.

Unfortunately, my business and reputation hurt my little boy. It kills me to see him acting up. I just can’t afford to take the risk of sending him to a regular school. He needs to be sheltered from the real world. There has to be a teacher out there worth their salt.

I’m damned and determined to find the person who will help my son.

Chapter Two

Clelia

I sit in the waiting room, leafing through old magazines, trying to pretend that the last few days have not been trying.

My brother is lashing out, but that’s not surprising. He doesn’t need an excuse to find the answers in a bottle or between the legs of a hooker.

The last time I saw him was at our father’s funeral. He stood there somber and wearing dark sunglasses. I tried to hold his hand, to find some comfort in his warmth, but he refused to accept my loving gesture.

Seeing my father laid to rest made me realize how important it is to find evidence against Constantino Negrini. What my brother said stuck with me, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Could it be true? Of course I know of his reputation, and I know now that my father owed him quite a lot. But was he important enough for an all-powerful mafia boss to bother care for him? Or even kill him? There are so many questions to be answered, but considering the Negrini name involvement, any rational person would stay away. Not me. I have to discover who killed my father, and I don’t care if I have to go to hell and back.

It’s not going to be easy. I’m going to need help to pull it off, and there’s only one person I can trust enough to have my back.

Thankfully my good friend Sonia made me an appointment to see her husband, Roberto. He’s a lawyer involved in the Negrini business and my key to unlock the truth. If anyone can help me with this it’s him.

The secretary motions for me from her desk while wearing hidden wireless earphones to answer the calls. She points down the hall, but I don’t need any further directions.

I hear Roberto having an argument over the phone before I enter. Clearly, he hasn’t noticed that I’m standing right there.

“The accounts will be shut down immediately. We have already covered this scenario, and they won’t find anything to pin insider trading on you. There’s no paper trail leading back to your doorstep, I told you a million times. Come in on Monday, and we’ll make arrangements for you and your family,” he says.

Roberto is standing at the window with his hands behind his back, seemingly talking into thin air.

He turns and places his hands on the mahogany desk. It’s old with coffee stains and fading polish, but it looks expensive. He looks powerful in his custom-tailored dark suit, but I know it’s an illusion to make people think he has all the answers. Actually, Roberto is a very caring father and a really loving husband. He could be considered a very good guy, if you take out the working with high-end criminals bit. I have to admit that sometimes, I envy the love and tenderness he shares with Sonia. I wish I had someone to care for me sometimes.

“Clelia, welcome! Please, accept my heartfelt condolences for what happened to Jonathan,” he says with his hand on his heart, and his statement pulls me out of my thoughts. My longing for a man can wait. I have a criminal to find first.

“That’s very kind of you Roberto, thank you. It’s really been a long couple of days,” I reply.

I’m referring to the funeral but also the reading of the will, which only served as one more blow to Lucas. The candy company and its holdings were trusted in me, while he was given a small share.

We have management in place to take care of the day-to-day dealings, but I’m eventually going to have to take my rightful place at the head of the table. There’s going to be some restructuring. The suggestions I mentioned to my father are going to be implemented sooner than later, and the dead weight will be cut out and excised like cancer until we’re profitable again. I only wish Lucas was by my side to help me. Instead, he despises me more by the day.

“I hope you know he did love you with all of his heart. He might not have been able to express it to you properly, but he did confide in me,” he says.

“Thank you so much Roberto. It means the world to me to hear that,” I answer. I really wish that I could hear my father telling me this. When I was a little girl, I used to sit in his lap, begging him to read me a fairytale. By the end of the story, I would usually fall asleep in his arms, and then he used to kiss my forehead and whisper “I love you.”

The memory that creeps in makes fidget in my chair, allowing the silence to become almost deafening. I would give anything to relive this moment. To have back the loving parent I once knew, but the truth is that I lost him even before he was killed. His own demons were too strong to battle. However, I always hoped that one day he would be the man I used to know.

“Um, Sonia mentioned this morning that you needed my help. I’m a little curious to know what that means. Are you thinking about changing lawyers?” Roberto adds with a lick of his lips. His statement pulls me from my thoughts and I remember why I am here.

“I was wondering what information you have about Constantino Negrini. I don’t want to know what I can read in the papers. You’ve been dealing with the family for quite some time by your own admission.” I address the elephant in the room.

“Constantino Negrini? You know that I can’t talk about a client Clelia, but please don’t tell me this has something to do with Lucas’s wild accusations. You shouldn’t believe everything he says,” he replies.

“Just tell me what you know about the family. It doesn’t matter how small or insignificant the detail is. I’m not asking you to share pertinent information about your business dealings with him. What is your impression of Constantino Negrini, as a person?” I inquire.

“Clelia cut the bullshit. I’m a lawyer; I’ve always been able to read between the lines. You’re hiding something from me. How long have we been friends? You’re our son’s godmother. Just tell me what you really want,” he urges.

On one hand I’m relieved. I really don’t want to beat around the bush, but on the other hand, I know that Roberto will think that I’m completely crazy.

“I’m talking about confronting him. Discovering what really happened. If he won’t come out and admit that he’s done wrong, I’m going to make him do it,” I say almost breathless.

Robert’s eyes widen. “You’re thinking of going to Leonessa and confronting him? You’ll be thrown out if you do that. You won’t be able to get anywhere near him if you go and cause a fuss at his business.”

“Actually, that’s not what I had in mind… I need a letter of recommendation from you to personally vouch for me, so that I can get close to Negrini. He is looking for a private tutor for his son. If he hires me, I will be close enough to discover if he had something to do with my father’s death. I can’t do this without you, Roberto.”

“What? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds and what you’re risking when you’re found out? Because there is no way that Constantino won’t dig about you. Otello is the most precious thing in his life. Do you really think that he won’t do a thorough background check on you?” Robert huffs and puffs like I told him that I murdered his own mother.

“I know, and that’s why I came to you. You are the only one I know with access to people who can help me cover my tracks even for a little. I have to try something, Roberto.” I press a hand to my belly, my stomach churning. “Something is not right about this, and I want answers. The only way I’m going to get them is to get close to the man Lucas says is responsible. Please…”

“Clelia,” he exhales in frustration. “Jonathan meant the world to me and you know it. He treated me like a son, better than a son, and my obligation towards him is to protect you, not throw you into the wolves. Even if he is not responsible for your father’s death, Constantino Negrini is a very dangerous man, with many skeletons in his closet. You’re messing with someone you can’t handle,” Roberto adds.

“If you loved my father so much, then you wouldn’t want his death to go unpunished by covering up the one responsible,” I say ignoring his warnings or the fact that he is throwing daggers at me with his eyes. I know that I’m being cruel to him, but he is the only one who can help me.

Roberto sighs deeply and tampers with his tie. He looks more dishevelled than his usual polished self. His dark hair is always perfectly combed and his suit pressed to perfection.

“I still think this is a terrible idea, but I will give you the letter of recommendation. I will also contact my people to create online presence and legal papers. That will buy you some time,” once I hear the words, a huge weight is lifted off of my shoulders.

“But listen to me, Clelia. I said this before and I will say it again. Constantino is not a man to double cross. Some say he’s responsible for killing his wife and making her disappear. I don’t believe in water cooler gossip, but he is definitely a very dangerous man. You really need to be extra careful. Don’t provoke him openly, don’t get on his bad side. Try to be invisible,” Roberto says.

His suit jacket lies awkwardly over his chair, and his cuffs are unbuttoned on the white starched shirt. Those green eyes are hiding many secrets of powerful men. I’m happy that I have him on my side.

“Is there anything else you can tell me? I don’t want to go in there empty-handed. The more I know about Constantino and his family, the better,” I press him for more details, and it’s stretching the confines of our friendship.

“I’ve heard his son is wild and unpredictable. You’re going to have to be ready for anything. There’s a reason why he’s still looking for a teacher with the money he offers. Everybody he hires doesn’t last more than a few days, sometimes a few hours,” he replies.

He’s already handwriting the recommendation letter. It’s more personal that way instead of being generated on the computer. Roberto didn’t reveal much of anything, but I locked up every bit of information he gave me.

“I hope you know what you’re doing. He’s naturally suspicious about everybody. You can’t be too good to be true. He respects hard work and determination more than anything. He comes from humble beginnings and is still firmly rooted in the past. It’s the reason why I personally don’t think the rumors about his wife are true. You have my number on speed dial. Don’t hesitate to call me day or night,” Roberto advises.

He sits on the edge of his desk, playing with his class ring emblazoned with gold flecks. It’s from his days being the big man on campus. He was an athlete, but those days are far behind him.

“Thank you for the letter. I really appreciate your friendship during this time,” I say, my eyes conveying a sadness that penetrates deeply.

The letter is in my hand when I walk out of the office. It’s what I need to break into Constantino’s inner sanctum. I’m not going to give up, and this is the first step in finding out the truth.

That piece of paper is going to get me in the door. It’s only one part of my plan, but it’s a crucial piece of the puzzle. I quickly send a message to my brother while I’m walking to the elevator. My 4-inch heels click on the floors.

I type furiously. “I need some time away. What happened to our father has really hit me hard. I’m going to be out of touch. Don’t try to contact me. I’m turning off my phone and going someplace off-grid to figure out what to do next. Be well and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” I press send.

That will keep him from sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. I can’t afford for him to mess up what I’m trying to do. He’s my brother, but he can’t keep a secret to save his life. Recreational drugs and liquor can lead to loose lips at the most inopportune time.

You never know who might be listening, and for this, I need to work alone. I will find out the truth or die trying.

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Chapter One

Midnight

No matter how many functions I attend, I don’t think that I’ll ever get used to them.

Music pours out of the building in front of us, no doubt half an orchestra inside. Men in white gloves and tuxedos are unloading guests from their chauffeured cars one at a time, escorting them up to the plush, carpeted, runner that leads into the well-lit hall.

Each guest exiting their car seems more elegant than the last, their faces picture perfect as the women are escorted by their husbands and dates into the gala. It was a charity event, I had been informed earlier when I had returned to my room to find a couture gown waiting on my bed for me.

Presently, I wrap up that one-of-a-kind, custom gown in my fists as my own chauffeured car slowly pulls around the bend for our turn.

A hand gloved in white taps the top of mine softly. “Don’t worry honey, Caspian is going to meet us inside, and I’m going to be right here.”

Valeria is easily the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Effortless, ethereal. Her caramel skin seems to glow from within. She has a long, slender neck and delicate features. She easily could have been a model if she wanted to.

Yet, somehow, my brother convinced her that marrying him was a better choice. Even more astounding, the pair of them managed to produce a child that surpasses them, possessing the best qualities of each. Granted, he is still young, but he’s going to grow up to be quite an impressive young man. Sometimes I like to tease Valeria that she had motherhood experience already handling me with so much patience over the years.

I place my other hand on top of hers and squeeze her hand, a comforting gesture as she smiles at me.

“It’s just been…such a long time,” I admit softly. The anxiety coiling in my stomach is only half because such lavish, extravagant events like this one are going to be filled with people and half because being in public drags attention to the slow way I walk.

“I know honey, but you’ve worked so hard to get to this point…you deserve this recognition.”

Our car rolls to a stop just beside the hand painted sign welcoming us to the annual St. Angela’s charity gala. Saint Angela’s is the local children’s hospital that I volunteer more of my time at than I spend at home. If we make enough money tonight, we will be able to open an outreach clinic in an underprivileged section of our town. It is a cause that I am wildly passionate about. Everybody deserves access to medications and quality medical care. I organized most of this event with the hopes that I wouldn’t have to attend it myself.

I owe my life and mobility to the pediatric ward in St. Angela’s. If it hadn’t been for the lovely doctors there, I might never have regained the ability to walk all those years ago. I owe so much to them that when the kind doctors and nursing staff asked if I would be there to help celebrate and fundraise with them…of course I said yes.

I wasn’t born into money. The life that I was born into was rather plain. I grew up in a small, three-bedroom flat where everybody had to share the same bathroom. Growing up, I didn’t have new clothes or shoes that weren’t secondhand. More often than not, it wasn’t even because we couldn’t afford those things, but because my father would never spend money on anything other than the roof over our head, and his drinking problem.

My older brother, Caspian, was the one to provide for me. He would bring home takeout food or a new pair of shoes. Always with the same easy smile and a finger pressed to his lips, he would say, “Shh, Midnight, don’t tell.” He would wink, then pretend that nothing had ever happened. I used to try to ask him how he got the money to pay for things. Cas would always just wink at me, that same charming smile on his handsome face.

How exactly Caspian had changed our entire lives shortly after my thirteenth birthday, well, I hadn’t asked questions about that either. Never once did he answer my questions, so over time I learned to stop asking.

Since then, I have seen my brother do countless immoral things. I have witnessed more than perhaps I should. Yet, for every questionable thing he does…he does three that are better.

I might turn a blind eye when I shouldn’t…even after he got me shot. Being the younger sister to the city’s strongest Mafia boss is bound to come with risks, I suppose.

“Ready honey?”

A man pulls open the door and holds out a hand to lead us onto the carpet. With difficulty, I slide out of the car, Valeria’s hand on the small of my back in a gesture that makes her look like a supportive sister-in-law, when really, she is checking to ensure I am steady on my feet.

I always try to hide it, but my limp is one of my biggest insecurities. I can walk without a cane now, but it does take me longer. Heels make things even more impossible. But at five-foot-six, I don’t look too out of place next to the woman beside me without them. A part of me hopes that she will draw all of the attention to herself. I’m not unattractive, and I’m not insecure about that fact. Valeria is simply an otherworldly sort of beauty.

When I pitched the idea for this gala to Caspian, he enthusiastically agreed, telling me to spare no expense. I didn’t, of course; he wouldn’t have let me anyway. Caspian has always wildly supported any cause I want to pursue, any hobby that I want to learn, and I love him dearly for it.

Music washes over us as we enter the massive room. I find Caspian quickly. He is equal parts imposing and dashing. At six-foot-three, he’s always drawn attention. He wears his tailored tuxedo well. He’s the perfect partner to Valeria. Where she’s exotic, he’s classically handsome. Caspian’s always drawn women’s eyes with his strong jawline, styled brown hair and bright, piercing blue eyes.

He doesn’t smile until he sees us. My brother scoops Valeria up the moment she is in reach. I smile seeing them together, the sweet way they interact. Valeria is beautiful alone, but like this, filled with joy, takes her to another level. A gentleman with a polished silver tray offers glasses of champagne, and I manage a whole sip before Caspian moves toward me. I note the two large men standing a respectful distance behind him.

My eyes narrow, “I thought you agreed, no bodyguards tonight?”

Caspian’s arm encircles me and he presses a kiss into my forehead, lifting the glass from me as he does. “Did we? I don’t remember that.”

Well isn’t that just overly convenient for him? At least I managed one whole sip of my champagne. “You can give that back now, please.”

If Caspian hears me, he doesn’t acknowledge it. I think he ignores me on purpose.

“The pair of you look so lovely I might die. Therefore, I really do need some protection, don’t you think?” Caspian continues. Valeria takes his other arm as we head further into the room. It looks exactly as beautiful as I imagined it. It was one thing seeing it during setup, but filled with people, it is breathtaking. “Besides, these two gentlemen are here for you lovely ladies.”

He cannot be serious.

“What would we like to do first?” Caspian continues, as if he hasn’t just totally gone back on our peaceful little agreement. “It is my understanding that after the first orchestral set they intend on honoring you for being kind enough to put this together.”

I can feel his eyes on me, waiting for my reaction. He expects me to bristle, and internally I do. I would rather not be up on that stage in front of everybody. I would rather not fumble through an awkward speech that I didn’t prepare…but I also don’t want to disappoint those people around me either.

Seeing my apprehension, Caspian’s expression softens. I think Valeria and myself might be the only two beings in the entire world able to consider my brother soft in any way. I’m aware of the reputation that Caspian has. He didn’t earn the nickname Diavolo for no reason. He is going out of his way to make sure that I feel comfortable here, he is going that extra mile to ensure that I enjoy tonight. I never could say no to him. He asks for so little as it is.

Big bad mafioso here, fussing over his baby sister to make sure that her feelings aren’t hurt.

“I think it will be good for you to get out there, you need to meet people. You spend so much time at St. Angela’s, and you refuse to take any credit for it. How are you supposed to make a name for yourself, if you are always in the background? I insist that you get up there tonight, and you own every scrap of gratitude that you deserve.” Caspian encourages, “You are a Knight, and I have worked very hard to ensure just how much weight that name carries.”

“I’m supposed to be just finishing college and getting a respectable job, Caspian,” I tease. “Just because you were a deviant at twenty-four, doesn’t mean that I have to be.”

Still, I can’t deny that he has a point.

“Maybe you can find a handsome dance partner then?” Caspian suggests.

I used to love to dance. He’s attempting to bond with me, to make a suggestion that would help me enjoy my night a little more. I can still remember all the steps to the classical dances that are playing by heart. I can still perform the twists and dips in my mind…but my body…

“Cas!” Valeria hisses from Caspian’s other side, chastising him for suggesting something that I can’t possibly do. Not since the injury. Something passes between the couple, and I squeeze Caspian’s arm before letting him go.

“I think I will go find a handsome dance partner!” I force a smile. Caspian works so hard. They deserve to have a break, a night out, Caspian away from his duties and Valeria away from her motherly responsibilities. Caspian will have a better time himself if he’s not fussing over me every moment.

I know he’s not going to let me out of his sight unless I look like I’m having the time of my life. He’s sending one of those large men in the black suits to follow behind me at a distance. They are my least favorite part of Caspian’s lifestyle. He didn’t agree with me when I told him that just because he chose a life of crime didn’t mean that I had to.

Caspian was always better with people. He has a way with words, a natural charisma paired with intensity that leads to either people trusting him very quickly, or fearing for their lives. Depending on which way he chooses to take things.

I skirt the edge of the ballroom dance floor carefully so as not to slip. I have no intention of butchering my beloved memories of the years I spent training to dance by fumbling around the dance floor with my leg that refuses to work properly. I absolutely don’t want to have that many pairs of eyes on me when I embarrass myself. The man behind me, carefully watching my every movement, is intended to put me at ease as much as my brother. He knows large groups of people are difficult for me since the accident. He always says to simply trust him, that he would never let anything bad happen to me…he would never allow anything to happen. But he can’t stop my anxiety from attacking me. It is something he can’t help no matter how he tries.

I camp at the side of a table covered in hors d’oeuvres as the music blends one song into the other. People who recognize me from the hospital come to greet me or wish me congratulations. I watch the board with our donation counter and goal on it surely and steadily climbing toward the success markers, and I will be content to do so all night.

Standing here, I am alright.

I can do this.

Maybe it would be nice to be at events like this again…I have avoided them for so long. Even if my heart ached with each waltz turn I witnessed. I can remember when I used to live for these things. I would dance the night away, fulfilling so many of my childhood princess fantasies.

“Come on.” The voice comes from beside me, and I turn to see Caspian with a disapproving look on his face. “You’re not a wallflower, Midnight. You cannot stand here all night. The floor isn’t going to bite you. I will help you.”

I shake my head, not even considering the offer. I smile nervously and then make a show of looking for something to drink.

“If not me, then who? You could have any man in this entire room.”

Perhaps. If not, he would make sure that they danced with me anyway.

“What if Leo dances with you?” Caspian offers casually, genuine concern knitting his brow.

Heat flushes my system at the mention of Leo, and I shake my head. The last thing that I need is his hands on me when I need to be concentrating. “No, Cas I’m fine. I’m just enjoying my success. Can’t I just do that?”

“You know, I worry about you. You would enjoy this more if you were interacting with the people who are here because you made this happen.”

Will they have been disappointed in me if I don’t go? Have they started to whisper about it behind my back? I don’t think they have…but now it feels like they are all glancing at me, whispering over their shoulders. They are going to wonder why I’m not walking around, dancing, aren’t they? My vision starts to blur.

I shake my head. No, this is silly. They aren’t talking about me. Nothing is wrong, I just need Caspian to stop pushing me. He means well…

“I need some air, okay?” the words leave my mouth before I think about it. I really need space, for him to stop pushing me, but I can’t say that. “Just some fresh air, on the terrace okay?”

Caspian studies me for a long moment before surrendering, nodding his head once.

“I’ll send Leo out with you,” Caspian offers, his hand already motioning to his best friend across the hall. Caspian gestures for him to come closer and Leo nods. Leo, who looks good in a suit. Really good in a suit.

The idea of us alone on the terrace, such a romantic setting, makes me blush. Normally, I would take any excuse I could to spend some alone time with the handsome man my brother is offering so easily to me. But I learned a long time ago that Leo doesn’t have anywhere near the same interest in me as I have in him.

Didn’t mean I can’t look. Look at Leo in all of his glory, the easy way he walks across the room. Look at how people start to move out of his way as he grows near to them.

Leo is the sort of man that commands attention. Built light as a fighter, his strong jawline and lack of smile tend to draw women to him like bees to honey. My heart flutters as his green eyes lock me in place. It is like the rest of the room fades away as my heart races. His gaze drops to drink in the sight of me in a dress, like he has never seen me before. Perhaps he didn’t think that I could clean up as well as I have. The corner of his lip upturns, the echo of a smirk, and I’m almost melting into the floor with how flustered such a simple thing makes me feel.

I have it bad.

I know I have it bad.

Leo is my brother’s best friend, his right-hand man, and just about the worst man that I could find myself attracted to, but here I am.

“I don’t need a babysitter, Cas, I’ll just be a moment,” I rush to say, lifting onto my tip-toes to press a kiss into Caspian’s cheek. A merciful, rare, moment of grace fills me as I turn and leave the ballroom before Leo can finish his journey toward us.

The cool night air feels better than I imagined. I can feel the soft breeze pushing away any remnants of my anxiety.

No more people, no more noises or polite small talk. Just me, the breeze, and the light floral scent carried on the air as it swirls around me.

My shoulders slowly start to relax. I’m not bothered at all by the sound of steps approaching me, I am expecting Leo, after all. My eyes drift closed as I speak, “You don’t actually have to chaperone me, you know-”

He never can tell my brother no. I guess he feels like he owes Caspian for saving him from the streets all of those years ago. I start to turn, wanting to chastise Leo for being so gullible to his face, but I never get the chance. A hand wraps around my waist from behind and another comes to my face and a cloth soaked in something clamps down over my mouth and nose.

I inhale to scream, suddenly forgetting any self-defense I have ever learned.

I shouldn’t breathe in. The reflex is my undoing. Fuck Caspian’s going to kill me. That last thought I have before darkness consumes me, and I collapse backward into the waiting arms of my attacker.

Chapter Two

Leo

Contrary to popular belief, chloroform does in fact have a smell.

The reports tend to vary from person to person, ranging from a sickly sweet, almost bourbon smell, to citrus cleaning products on steroids. I wonder which one little Midnight smelled.

I don’t imagine she will be in much of a mood to answer my questions whenever she wakes up. I doubt that she’s going to want anything from me at all.

If I could have taken somebody else, I would have. The sins of her brother weren’t something that Midnight should have to answer for. I never wanted to hurt her…but she is the only one that will work. For some time, I thought that his wife might be motivation enough. I thought that perhaps his son would be motivation enough.

I have to hit Caspian where it hurts. He could always remarry, he could always have another child. Midnight, she’s irreplaceable. I have waited for too long, I have worked too hard to get to this point, and I will not give up now. I won’t.

Sleeping like this, she looks so peaceful. My weight indents the side of the thin mattress on the small bed that she’s strapped to. Her eyes roll softly under the closed lids. She will be awake soon. I’m going to watch her whole world shatter, everything that she’s come to know over the time of her brother’s new life. It pains me to know how badly this is going to hurt her. My sweet, lovely, Midnight.

She’s never known how beautiful she is. I can’t lie and say that it was her kindness that first caught my eye. Her long chestnut hair falls in pretty waves over the pillow. Her bright, brilliant blue eyes are hidden from my view in her chemically induced sleep. Her arms pulled above her head like this, trussed to the bedframe, isn’t helping me focus any. I have often fantasized what she might feel like with her arms, and other parts, around me.

Caspian always said that she was a great dancer before the accident. Her frame hasn’t suffered any for its loss. Perhaps she can’t perform the moves anymore, but she still has the body: lightly muscled in her legs, lean dexterity in her thighs. Even with her limp, she moves with more grace than half my men ever have.

Her dress is slid up over her knees, and I can finally allow myself to look at her with intention. It’s always been so important to keep my distance from her. I couldn’t allow my attraction to her to get in the way of what I needed to do.

Don’t get distracted. Over the years, it has become a mantra that I repeat inside of my head over and over again.

It was hardest on the days that I thought she might be looking at me too.

Midnight stirs on the bed, and my time with her is almost over. The illusion of who she thought I was is about to shatter. These last few moments of the drug shaking from her system are sweet. I drink in the way her brow furrows, her sweet groggy sounds of a body rousing as she twists. Is she dreaming? Her back arches her toward me as if she is shaking off the vestiges of a memory she doesn’t want to leave.

Midnight’s pretty blue eyes start to flutter open, registering my face so near her own with a sleepy half smile. Is she dreaming about me? If I could allow her to stay in the dream I would. Her full lips part, and the lipstick smeared over the edges makes her even more attractive. I have to admit this isn’t the reaction I presumed she would have to my being in bed with her, but I’m not protesting either.

She tries to lift her arms. The metal chain of the restraints click against the headboard and realization dawns on her. Midnight looks up to her bound wrists and starts to struggle. Confusion crosses her expression first, and then panic as she pulls as if it would free her.

“They’re quite secure, I assure you.”

“Leo?” Midnight stares at me accusingly, surprised that I’m really there, her chest heaving. Fuck if that isn’t a pretty picture.  “What the hell are you doing?”

I don’t answer right away. “I know that you’re going to have a lot of questions. This is going to be a very difficult time for you, Midnight.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about? Let me go right this instant.”

I shake my head, my hand lifting to the side of her face and running my knuckles down her soft skin. “Sorry, I can’t do that.”

“Uh, yes you can!” Midnight pulls on the restraints again as if she can just get me to come to my senses. I wonder if she’s ever been tied down before? In my fantasies…I must have done it a dozen times. My knuckles run down the curve of her neck, my gaze following the invisible trail that I take down her skin. So fucking beautiful. My knuckle runs down the plunging neckline of her ballgown. The fitted bodice curves around her breast so prettily.

“You look….so stunning tonight. I’m sorry to have to ruin your dress.” I haven’t yet, but I certainly want to. My finger crooks inside of the neckline, running the line of the fabric. “I never intended to harm you, if you have any headache, rest assured it will be resolved soon.”

“I-I don’t understand, what are you-” her breath hitches as my hand slides inside of the bodice of the gown to fit the breast into my hand. It almost feels as if she arches up into the touch, even if she pulls away the next moment.

“Be still now,” I warn, and she thrashes again, the skirt of her dress riding up her thighs as she does. “If you’re a very, very good girl…then no harm will come to you.”

Midnight’s eyes are a blue fire as they turn back to me, even with the pink flush tinting her cheeks. “I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but Caspian is going to kill you for this.” Her teeth bare as she speaks.

She has always had such blind faith in her brother. I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth and shake my head. “Cas cannot save you now, and your brother deserves everything that’s coming to him.”

“Caspian saved you! We saved you! I don’t know…what,” her words die as my fingers pinch her nipple between them firmly.

“You don’t know Caspian as well as you think you do, Midnight.” She yelps in surprise as I release her nipple, and pinch the peak between my fingers, rolling firmly. “As you’re at my complete mercy…I think you should consider your words.”

Her eyes lift to mine, and I don’t miss the way her bare thighs clamp together. Did she like that? Releasing her trapped skin, my fingers spread across her breast, kneading the flesh into my palm possessively. “I know that learning the true nature of who he is will hurt you. I’m truly sorry for that. Caspian will be made to pay for the things he’s done.”

More than once, since I came to live with the Knight family, I have been tempted to abandon my cause. Seeing the way that they act with one another, it is clear Caspian values his little family in the way that I always loved my family. We had the commonality that we would both do anything to protect the ones that we loved, and to better our stations in life. Neither of us had been born into privilege. In a lot of ways, Caspian had been born worse off than myself.

It doesn’t excuse the actions that he took, the things that he had done.

It wasn’t easy to win Caspian’s trust. It was a long, slow road to gain the position at his side that I stand. Caspian’s right-hand man, his best friend and trusted companion. He has invited me into his very home, we have broken bread together.

He thought that I was nothing more than a street rat that needed a second chance at life. I played my part well. I did everything that he ever asked of me.

I hate that Midnight was the only thing that I can use against him. If I could have used Valeria I would have. But Midnight is the key to everything. She is the one that will topple him, the one he can’t live without.

Though, I can’t exactly say that I am sorry to have Midnight here, bound in the basement of my private mansion. “Keep in mind, Midnight, we are at a secured location that Caspian has no knowledge of, he’s not even going to know where to look. So,” I pause, my eyes lingering on her lips as she frowns at me. “You can yell, and scream to your heart’s content if that’s what pleases you. Or, you can save yourself the trouble and do as I say. I’m going to give you the night to think about it. I want you to think long, and hard about your choice. I can leave you bound here, alone in the dank of my basement…”

I pause, letting the truth of my words settle in. Never in my life would I have thought that we would be here, with her in such a position. Every time we have been alone until now the conversations were brief. Like the charged tension between us was too much for her to handle. She has hardly ever been able to look at me without blushing. I would recognize that tell-tale flush in her cheeks anywhere. Still, I have to press the issue a little further.

“I have a large staff, and I cannot keep an eye on all of them, you see. I cannot control if they wander in here while you’re all alone.” Fear pinpricks her pupils. I can see her pulse racing in the pulsating of a vein in her pretty neck…but her thighs slide over one another for friction. I bet she thinks I don’t see that. “I would much rather put you in one of my many bedrooms, wouldn’t that be nice?”

She deliberates, but says nothing. “I’ll tell you what, if you behave, follow my very simple rules, I promise to answer all of your questions in time.”

I study her face, even when she’s biting her tongue to keep from verbally lashing out at me, I want to taste her. She’s always so sweet, so generous and kind, even this slight view of her temper has me itching to know what else is in there, what else has she hidden from me.

“Unlike your dear brother, I always keep my word.” Would she fight me if I kissed her? If I took her lower lip between my teeth?

Midnight’s eyes move to the ceiling, as if somehow, she can see where she is or acquire super powers and see the house. She regards me slowly, and she knows I’m not teasing any longer. My fingers close on her nipple again, pulling softly. “Answer me, Midnight.”

“Caspian will come for me. He will find me, and he is going to eat you alive,” she hisses, not even attempting to pull away from my touch.

“I dearly hope so.” My eyes alight with fire. Where had this temper been these last few years I’ve spent sleeping in the same home as her? If this is a taste of what was to come, I can only guess how interesting our time together is going to be.

Midnight has no reason to doubt her brother, no reason to assume anything other than him moving heaven and earth for her. “He’s certainly going to try.”

Midnight understands the situation now. She stares at me, as if she’s never seen me before, as if I am some sort of monster. Something foul under her shoe that she would never want to see again…but her breath is coming in steady puffs and her cheeks are flushed. Her hands pull at the binding around her wrists again.

“Who are you?”

I smile softly, keeping careful control of my own breathing. “Not who you think.” I pull my hand from her dress, and move across the room to the door. I wink in her direction as she fumes, her thighs still rubbing together as she attempts to lift her body to look at me. I catch the sheen on the skin near her most intimate places before I flick the light off, shutting and locking the door to the sounds of her frustration.

If you liked the preview, you can get the whole book here

Chapter One

Her screams haunt me.

I continually play back the scene over and over again in my head. Family is the most important aspect of my life. It drives me to extreme lengths to protect them at any cost.

To see the anguish on my sister’s face and the pain in her eyes felt like a knife tearing through my heart.

Midnight never blamed me, but those images of her lying in the street covered in blood were something I’m never going to forget. She’s my sister, and I made the big mistake of underestimating our adversaries. Being the head of the Knight family is a huge responsibility.

I came from nothing, but that’s never stopped me from succeeding.

To say that I was on the warpath would’ve been a vast understatement. Turning over every rock to find the person that hired the hitman to kill me was to no avail. There were many suspects but no concrete proof to act upon.

Las Vegas is a mecca of greed and influence. The landscape is intimidating to most, but this is my playground.

The city lights bring opportunities that are only going to knock once. The heavy weight of the burden is on my shoulders.

Those closest to me tried in vain to convince me the person responsible for shooting my sister had been brought to justice.

It’s too bad that I’m not convinced. Something is nagging at the back of my mind. It’s telling me to keep my friends close and my enemies even closer.

“Caspian, I would never steal from you,” A squeaky voice pleads.

I glance away from the window, temporarily blinded by a betrayal of trust and confidence.

It’s sickening to think that somebody would take the risk of putting their hand in the cookie jar. Treating my employees fairly with great wages should have stopped this from happening, but there’s always going to be one rotten apple in the bunch

Thomas was skimming off the top.

It’s not much, but an example has to be made quickly to stanch any unrest among my people. It’s the principal and not the amount of money he’s squirreled away for a rainy day.

He’s sitting there in the chair with his mouth bleeding. A couple of his teeth are missing.

They’re on the floor at his feet.

Being on top of the mountain gives me a bird’s eye view of the little people going about their day. I’m forty stories safely behind reinforced glass in the penthouse suite.

Leo Sloan is my best friend, and people have often commented that we’re similar in looks with our long blonde hair and blue eyes. He’s also my training partner.

Giving him a place by my side was a stroke of genius. Finding him down on his luck committing petty crimes on the street gave me a chance to teach him about the business.

He’s like a sponge constantly absorbing my knowledge and sing it to protect me from harm.

He stands with his blonde hair combed straight back in an air of intimidation. His arms are crossed, and he’s not blinking while brandishing a pair of brass knuckles covered in blood. He’s not above getting his hands dirty for me.

I pull on the collar of my starched white shirt. It’s custom-made by an Italian Mastercraftsman. There are many in my collection. Dressing for success is a key component in making people believe my power is something to be feared.

“Trust is a two-way street. Do you think this makes me happy? I came here to visit one of my more profitable casinos. I built this from the ground up, and you were there every step of the way. It pains me to think you could even consider disrespecting me. How do you think that makes me feel. I’m entertaining a guest. You can see that he’s not very comfortable by this unfortunate incident,” I refer to Peter Lewis sat in one corner.

Peter is there on purpose to witness this exchange.

“I didn’t do anything wrong. This is a mistake,” Thomas stammers with little bits of spittle flying from his mouth.

I crack my knuckles right in front of his face. “The only mistake was believing you have my best interest at heart. I’m afraid this is where we are going to have to part ways. I wish you luck in your future endeavors.”

A slight nod gives Leo his marching orders.

Thomas is a sniveling coward and barely worth mentioning in the same breath as some of my other more trusted colleagues. He’ll live knowing the Damocles sword is hanging over his head.

The moniker of Diavolo is one that I deserve. It will be torture for him to be on the lookout, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Leo doesn’t say a word, but he’s soon escorting Thomas from the room.

Thomas stumbles a couple of times, but Leo is there to hold him up even though he’s falling apart.

The click of the door closing makes Peter flinch.

It’s merely a tactic to keep him unbalanced.

I walk back to my desk with its clear glass top, waiting for the reason for this visit. He owes me a lot of money. It’s something that puts him in my debt. That kind of leverage is priceless. I know exactly what I want.

His daughter Valeria is the prize.

Seeing her briefly at her brother’s funeral gave me a chance to look into those hypnotizing hazel eyes. She was in mourning, but her attempt to smile stopped my heart for a second.

It’s fortuitous to have Peter exactly where I want him despite his efforts to pay back the loan.

The awkward silence is deafening.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. Leo does go a little overboard, but he means well. That brings us to the reason for your visit. Your payment was due three months ago. Being magnanimous has never been my strong suit. We need to discuss how we proceed from here,” I say dramatically while rolling up my sleeves.

It doesn’t look like he’s slept in days with heavy bags underneath his eyes. He’s usually a consummate professional when it comes to business matters.

Losing his son broke something inside of him.

Imagining that kind of pain makes me empathize with his plight, but there’s no way that I can show weakness.

“I’m going to need more time,” Peter says.

“I don’t like being taken advantage of. I hope you remember it was you that came to me and not the other way around. I know what that kind of loss does to somebody. I’m not in the habit of showing pity.” I swallow hard at the recollection of my father being lowered into the ground.

“There are no excuses. The terms were reasonable,” Peter says.

Peter moves his weathered shaking hand through his silver mane of hair

It isn’t the first time I’ve seen this kind of body language when negotiating in good faith. This is a game. I’m very good at reading between the lines. He’s in a pickle and obviously looking for somebody to bail him out. He doesn’t know about my machinations behind the scenes.

Every debt he’s incurred is now under my umbrella. It’s time to show him a way out of his predicament, but he isn’t going to like it. This is the part of the negotiation I live for. It puts me in the driver’s seat.

I extend my hands. “I’m not a monster contrary to popular opinion. We all have moments we would like back. You’ve made your fair share of blunders in business lately, but maybe I can help with that. We can dispense with the ugliness of the loan if you agree to give me your daughter’s hand in marriage. Joining forces will make our enemies think twice,” I propose.

He makes a deep sigh. “I can’t do that. My daughter is fiercely independent and doesn’t want anything to do with the family business.”

“She’s in the business by proxy. There’s nothing she can do about that. What happens next to your family and the business you hold so dearly is in your hands. I respect everything you’ve built. This is business. I can’t show favors. What kind of message does that send?” I ask.

“You don’t know what you are asking of me. She would never forgive me.”

“She’s not here. This is for the future of your family. The decision is yours. Can you really afford to have principles?”

“Please, there’s got to be a way to do this without her,” He pleads.

I try not to sound too smug. “I’m not sure you understand your position. Your risks cost you everything. I’m the only one in a position to help dig you out of this mess. I’m a little offended you’re fighting me on this. We both know I’m a man people rarely refuse…and for a good reason.”

“I can’t just turn a blind eye and give you my daughter. I would rather die.”

“Nobody said anything about killing you. Your objection is leaving me with very few choices. You have to see it from my point of view. I allow you to leave here without paying your debt, and people will get the wrong idea. They’ll believe that I’m weak. I can’t have that,” I explain.

He stares right through me.

“I’m sorry….I don’t know what to do,” he says.

“I shouldn’t do this, but I admire you more than you know. This is highly unorthodox, but there might be a way. Are you a gambling man?” I ask from behind with my hands on his shoulders.

“What…do you have in mind? He stammers.

“We play one game of roulette…double or nothing. I win, and your daughter walks happily down the aisle with me. You win, and your debt is cleared. We’ll never have to see each other again,” I say.

“I really don’t have any other choice. Let’s do this before I change my mind,’ he sighs.

I walk with him to the glass elevator and whistle an old song my mother sang to me when I was a child. I catch my reflection on the mirrored surface. In the right light, my blazing blue eyes can appear to turn red.

Being over 6 feet tall can be imposing to some. It isn’t every day the boss shows up breathing fire and taking names. I’m always looking for ways to cut costs using methods I’ve read about in Fortune 500.

The roulette wheel is occupied, but my presence soon has the patrons looking for other ways to gamble away their time.

I choose red, and Peter chooses black.

The little silver ball blinks into focus in the dealer’s hand. He drops it, and it bounces several times, moving around in a circular motion. My eyes narrow in concentration.

Peter gulps, and I smile when it finally comes to a stop.

She’s going to be my bride and doesn’t even know it. It would be nice to break the news to her in person, but I know it’s going to be better coming from her father.

Valeria

I can’t believe what’s coming out of his mouth, but he’s doing it with a straight face.

We never did see eye to eye, but that doesn’t give him the right to use me as a bargaining chip.

It’s appalling, and I’m speechless, unable to voice my contempt for his actions.

It feels like the walls are closing in on me. My breath is short, and my palms are sweating.

I sit down with a sense of defeat. My dark hair curling and matted to my forehead

“Valeria, I don’t know what you want me to say. Think about what this means for the future of our family. The debt I owe will be lifted. Joining our two families will make us stronger than ever. This is the only way to make things right,” my father says.

“How many times have I told you this business isn’t for me? What makes you think that I’m going to go along with this harebrained scheme? I love you with all of my heart, but you are asking too much,” I shout.

“I know it’s not right to put you in this position.”

“I have a career to think about. I’m the head editor of The Las Vegas Sun. I can’t just abandon everything I’ve built. You’ve seen how hard I worked to keep people from thinking I’m going to follow in your footsteps. It’s taken a lot of time to make them see that I’m not my father’s daughter,” I add, a little more calmly.

He stands next to paintings of my family ancestors.

I’m the first in several generations to step outside of the family to seek my own goals and aspirations. Being short makes people think they can walk all over me, but they find out this girl has claws and knows how to use them. Nobody is going to put me in a tiny little box. Breaking glass ceilings is a pleasure.

“I never understood the reason why you turned your back on the life I gave you. You have to admit it does have its perks. We live in the lap of luxury. We don’t have to lift a finger. There’s a private chef ready day or night to cater to our whims. We have an Olympic -sized pool in the basement, and that’s just a few of the amenities right here at your fingertips. Life doesn’t get any better than this,” he says.

“We also have this constant fear following us around like a dark and foreboding shadow. That’s not any way to live. I want something different. I don’t have the stomach, and we both know it,” I say emphatically.

“Family will always come first. Look around you. These men knew what it was to sacrifice for something bigger than themselves. You’re not the only one to want out. I’ve never told you this, but I discussed with your grandfather the possibility of opening up a catering service,” he admits.

“That does make sense when I begin to think about it. My most treasured moment growing up was cooking with you in the kitchen. It was always after midnight when the chef was downstairs in bed,” I say.

“We had some fun dabbling in your mother’s cookbook. She’s the visionary in the family. She’s never condoned what I do, but she knows better than to disagree. I see her every time I look into your eyes,” he says with a catch in his throat.

“This isn’t going to change my mind. You’re just going to have to find another way to settle things with Caspian Knight. I think we both know what Diovolo is capable of. Do you really want to sacrifice your daughter to a man like him?

“He knows what he wants and goes after it.”

I listen to what he has to say.

When I was younger, I would have had a tantrum, but that isn’t going to solve anything. I don’t have a reasonable argument to decline, but that won’t stop me from standing my ground.

“That’s precisely what I’m worried about. You got yourself into this mess. Get yourself out of it without me.”

I shiver at the very notion of Caspian putting his hands on me.

“I don’t expect you to do this for me, but maybe you’ll do it for your mother. She’s not getting any better. Kidney dialysis isn’t cheap. It’s money that we just don’t have. I think you know where I’m going with this,”

My cheeks turn red with anger.

The clock on the wall is ticking incessantly. It’s a low blow, but he isn’t above using dirty tactics to get what he wants.

I can feel that flush spreading to the rest of my body. My skin is warm to the touch. He’s actually using what’s happening to my mother against me. He must be desperate to pull that card from up his sleeve. He’s never looked more frail and fragile and barely able to look me in the eyes.

“You have the unmitigated gall to use what is happening to my mother to make me even consider this insanity? It’s going against my better judgment, but I’ll agree to marry him on paper. Let me make one thing perfectly clear, tho. I’m not doing this for you,” I say before I leave.

Storming out is my last recourse.

There still could be a way out of this arrangement. Making his life miserable by constantly undermining him will hopefully make him see that being with me is a huge mistake.

If Caspian Knight expects to meet a meek and mild young woman of privilege, then he’s in for a rude awakening.

Chapter Two

Caspian

The details are fuzzy.

What happened to Valeria’s brother is tragic. The circumstances are shielded in mystery. The official report makes it sound like he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That doesn’t seem likely considering who his father is.

There’s more to it than meets the eye, but nobody is talking.

The estate is built in solid brick and spans hundreds of square feet in either direction. The manicured lawn with its topiary wild animals is somewhat disconcerting. It feels like they’re going to come to life and attack me without provocation. It’s a testament to the artist that they’re so lifelike. I stare at the image of a lion, ferocious with its teeth bared.

The phone call wasn’t unexpected.

Being summoned to the estate like some common visitor does get underneath my skin, but it’s necessary to set the tone of our relationship from the first moment I meet her. She has to know who wears the pants in this family.

Leo is with me, silently standing by the car at my request. There’s no point in making it look like I’m ambushing her. There’s strength inside her diminutive frame. I’m hoping to break the wild filly.

“Stay here and wait for me. This shouldn’t take very long,” I say.

My fingers glide over the black leather jacket. It goes to my knees. The smooth material is the difference between fake and real.

The white shirt is supposed to focus her eyes on my upper body. There’s no shortage of hard work that goes into sculpting my physique. Seeing my naked body in the mirror in the morning gives me a chance to see the results up close and personal.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but this might not be a good use of your time. We already know somebody is working behind the scenes. It’s not a coincidence that two of your businesses were accosted by a hostile takeover. I’ve done my best to find those responsible, but they’re hiding behind shell companies,” Leo mentions in a neutral tone while barely showing any emotion.

“I depend on your counsel, but I do know what I’m doing. We’ve lost more than most people realize, and I’d like to keep the information on a need-to-know basis. Your loyalty is something I rely on.” I ring the doorbell and hear the echo of a chime sounding like an orchestra.

Leo doesn’t try to argue, but he’s certainly given me a lot to think about.

Enemies come in many forms, but whoever is masterminding this systematic destruction of my empire is doing it subtly. It started small, but recently, things have escalated.

A couple of my men disappeared without a trace. It almost feels like somebody is playing a dangerous game of chess. The strategy is simple enough.

Somebody is eliminating key pieces from the board. My board. They don’t do me the courtesy of attacking me face-to-face. The age of technology is making it easier by utilizing the Internet. It’s cowardly but rather effective.

Peter greets me in person instead of allowing one of his staff to do it for him.

“I can admire a man that opens his own front door,” I say.

“The old guard is coming to an end. The next generation thinks they have all the answers, but they don’t even know what the question is. She’s waiting for you in the living room by the fire. She’s not very happy about this,” Peter informs me.

“I’ll treat her with kid gloves. It might be better for me to do this alone. I don’t need your input. What happens from this moment on is between the two of us,” I say.

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen,” he replies

“I suspect that we’ll have a June wedding. That’s only a couple of months away. It doesn’t leave us a lot of time, but money does speak volumes. It will be an intimate affair with only a select few attending the nuptials. Your wife is more than welcome. I’m sure arrangements can be made for her…ahem…condition. I would never want to deprive her of seeing her little girl walk down the aisle,” I add.

“She would enjoy that. I’ll let you two kids get better acquainted. You’ll find me in the library when you finish. Don’t leave without telling me how it went. Don’t make any sudden movements to spook her. The last thing you want to do is offend her,” Peter says.

He shuffles off, his Italian loafers scuffing the dark wooden floor. The heavy black drapes make the place inhospitable. It needs a facelift. The walls are adorned with several characters from their family tree.

I’ve heard about her grandfather. Of course, it was a different time then.

Back in the day, it was all about pomp and circumstance. Nothing was spared. The food was sumptuous, with a feast fit for a king and his queen.

I find myself at the threshold where I can see her standing by the glow of the fireplace.

Valeria is staring into the flames and doesn’t even look up when I enter the room.

“I’m here to discuss the wedding,” I announce.

She turns to me with a look of anger. “Well, if it isn’t Diavolo himself.”

“You can call me, Caspian Knight,” I suggest.

‘So formal…considering you want to marry me. You can call me your worst nightmare,” Valeria says.

“I would rather call you Valeria,” I reply.

“You’re a despicable human being. Losing my brother made my father go into a tailspin. I know what you going to say, and it doesn’t excuse your behavior. You took advantage of an old man when he came with his hand out. How can you possibly look at yourself in the mirror?” Valeria asks.

I thought she would dress to impress, but this is the first salvo of many arguments. Those tight jeans leave little to the imagination. The yellow canary blouse is practically see-through, exposing her unmentionables. The black mesh bra is enticing.

“Let’s get one thing perfectly straight. I gave your family a lifeline. It’s not my fault your father squandered it by making bad decisions. I would think you would be grateful. I was in my right to dismantle the Lewis organization, but I decided against it. The name still holds deep respect. We don’t have to be at odds,” I say.

I didn’t notice before, but she’s holding a glass of cognac. Standing by the fire allows her to let the flames warm the liquid in her hands. Then, she turns to face me, leaning against the fireplace.

“You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig.”

“That’s a colorful way of saying it. I’m not sure that I agree with your analogy. Let’s not fight when we have more important things to discuss. The honeymoon comes to mind,” I snicker.

“It’s just like you to talk about sex at a time like this. I never said anything about consummating the relationship. That was never agreed,” Valeria says.

“Your family was a mighty big influence. You’re going to have to obey me. Forget that you’re a Lewis. Once you marry me, you will belong to me,” I state.

Valeria

I almost burst out laughing, but I decide a little tact will go a long way. “Don’t forget that I’m doing you a favor by marrying into your family. We both know you don’t have the legitimacy. Fear isn’t the only way to get what you want.”

I gasp when he advances toward me so fast that I don’t even have a chance to breathe. He’s quick and agile, with muscles that are hard to ignore. It makes me feel a little breathless, with my heart pumping faster than normal. My clothes are sticking to me.

The temperature in the room has risen a few degrees. I’m not sure if he wants to hit me or kiss me. It’s hard to tell from the way he’s looking at me. That smug little smirk is getting on my nerves.

“What did you say to me? I dare you to repeat it,” Caspian urges.

I can feel his hot breath, but that isn’t going to temper my anger toward him.

My father isn’t the force of nature that he was when I was younger. That man was my hero until he fell from his lofty perch after my brother died. Seeing him shaken to the core and ground under the foot of life has been a wake-up call.

Caspian was there at the funeral, but he never approached me. His piercing blue eyes were cold and calculating, but there was an untapped passion beyond that. His reputation did precede him. The name Diavolo is well deserved. I’ve heard several tales of the way that he earns his power by intimidation and violence.

He came from nothing with a business acumen nobody could deny. He’s learned to step over the little guy with extreme prejudice. There are bodies in his wake, but nobody knows where they’re buried.

His love life is a revolving door of conquests depicted in several photographs in the media.

“You heard what I said. Where did your father go wrong with you? This is no way to treat a lady. The very idea of marrying you makes me physically sick to my stomach,” I say.

“I don’t care what you think. The arrangement has already been made. You don’t have to like it, but you’re going to live with it. This doesn’t have to be miserable. I can see us having a lot of fun in the future. There’s no time like the present,”  Caspian says with a smile.

“I’m not one of your bimbos you spend time with. They are only interested in your money. So I’m going along with this, but only under protest,” I say.

He’s quick with a retort. “Just as long as you know your place. Don’t think for one second you’re going to be privy to my business. The only time I want to see you is at dinner and in bed. The rest of the time, you can paint your nails and sit by the pool getting a tan for all I care.”

“This idea of you thinking I’m going to be seen and not heard isn’t going to cut it with me. If I have to go along with this, there will have to be certain rules. Having sex is out of the question. I don’t want to hear anything more about it. My family will merge with your family, but that’s the closest you’ll physically get to me. But I will be at the table. You will no longer make unilateral decisions,” I say.

He rolls his eyes. “You have no say in any of this. I’m holding all the cards.”

“I think we can agree the woman always has the power,” I say.

“I’m not going to be told what to do by you or anybody,”  Caspian threatens.

I suddenly feel his fingers pressing into the soft tissue of my neck. He backs me up against the far wall with his knee between my legs. The warm sensation is highly unexpected. That slight friction is enough to create a spark of interest.

I hate myself for letting my body dictate the terms of my surrender. I thought I was stronger than that. His hand slides through my hair until he’s gripping it tightly and making me look him right in the eyes.

“I don’t know the meaning of this, but if you don’t take your hand off of me, I’m going to scream for help,” I threaten.

He places his other hand over my mouth. He’s preventing me from crying out, but his dominance is exhilarating. Taking what he wants translates from the board room to the bedroom.

“I do like a little fire. It makes things more exciting when I have you pinned to the bed. . You can keep up this charade, but we both know the truth. Your mouth says no, but your body is screaming…yes”.

The hand around my throat moves until he plucks two buttons from my blouse. He traces the outline of my cleavage with his finger. His mouth is open with his tongue extended until he is licking the surface of his lips.

He grabs my ass cheeks, and my eyes widen when he squeezes.

I can scream, but something inside me doesn’t want to. It’s hard to justify what my body is craving. The missing component in my life is somebody to take my breath away. Working my fingers to the bone has made it almost impossible to make room for a man in my life.

Loving and leaving them isn’t my style.

A little persistence has me feeling his arousal pounding against the zipper of his pants. My eyes stray until I’m witnessing the monument of his manhood. That cock has grown considerably. The outline is simply awe-inspiring.

His fingers graze my lower spine. It causes my chest to arch and my nipples to become hard enough to cut glass.

I attempt to stop it before it gets out of hand by bringing my knee between his legs. However, he catches it before I can do any real harm and holds it firmly while pulling down my blouse until my shoulder is exposed.

“That’s not going to happen again,”  Caspian says.

He brings his lips to mine but moves on quickly to the nape of my neck. It’s hard not to feel wanted and desired.

The feel of his lips are soft and demanding. My skin is on fire.

I’m not sure what’s happening to me, but I’m close to succumbing to the heat between us.

Then suddenly, he walks away, and my legs almost give way.

As I steady myself, I hear something vibrating.

He fishes into his pocket and brings a phone to his ear, passion turning to anger. “How the hell did this happen? Somebody should have contacted me. Find out where he is. Don’t call me back until you find out. I want answers.”

He doesn’t even look back as he exits the room.

Something has ruffled his feathers. It has to be important enough for him to run out without finishing our little business.

I lower my body until I’m sitting on the floor with my hands wrapped around my knees. It makes me feel weak without a leg to stand on. His hands and body have given me this overwhelming hunger to see what’s hiding underneath his pressed suit of metaphorical armor

What the hell did I get myself into?

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