Chapter 11
LEONORE
It’s been almost a week since my last run-in with Silas, and it’s put me on edge for all the wrong reasons.
He pushes and shoves so hard to get his way and then simply vanishes.
I should be relieved by the fact, but I know, instinctively, that it’s not a good thing when Silas goes quiet.
I suspect I’ll most likely have more bodies than usual come across my table.
I haven’t managed to see Nessa since my last sleepover, so when I walk into her work, I spot her right away.
She’s standing at the bar talking to Soph, who immediately sees me and waves me over.
I don’t know a lot about Soph, just that she is always friendly when I come in, and I like to tip her.
Nessa told me that she is caring for her mother who is bedridden and has to pay for a nurse full-time.
Other than that, I don’t know much else about her.
She is young, with a pep in her step, much younger than my thirty-three years, and always seems positive.
Nessa turns to look at me, and as soon as I am close enough, she reaches for my hand and pulls me in, so I am by her side.
“Soph was wondering if we were a thing,” Nessa laughs as she tells me, and Soph’s eyes go wide.
Clearly, she is not used to Nessa and how she loves to blurt things out.
Even things she should not. She is the outspoken one.
I have always been the more reserved one. I guess our jobs reflect that as well.
“I wasn’t…” Soph shakes her head, and her cheeks go pink.
“It’s fine; no, practically sisters,” I tell her, to which she picks up a cloth and starts wiping down the counter, avoiding eye contact with us.
“Nessa, a group of wealthy men walked in. I need you to be your best for them,” someone says from behind me. Nessa immediately straightens her spine and pulls her robe down her shoulders as I pull out the stool and take a seat.
“You fine waiting for me, possibly only an hour, then we can go and eat?”
“Yes, I’ll just play on my phone.” I wave her off. She leans in and kisses my cheek before walking off.
“Just a water again?” Soph says, avoiding eye contact with me.
“That would be great.” She gets me a bottle of water, and I put a fifty on the counter.
“You tip awfully well. I didn’t want to ask Nessa, but what is it you do for work?” Now she is looking at me.
“I’m a doctor.” And leave it at that.
“Nessa said you work mostly at night, which is why you visit here when she’s finishing.”
“I do. I work best at night and choose those hours mostly for myself,” I inform her.
“You must be good to choose your own hours. You look so young.”
“Thank you.” She nods and takes the money from the counter and walks off as a few men walk over for her to serve them.
Soph is dressed in her usual outfit of little booty shorts with no top, her hair down, and glitter all over her chest. I don’t pay attention to the men she is serving.
Really, there is no reason for it. I couldn’t care less about a man coming into a strip club to get his rocks off.
That is, until they start talking to me.
For example, I know the chair next to me is pulled out, and in it sits a man.
But I choose not to look his way or give him a lick of attention.
That is until Soph is back and leans over the counter so her cleavage is on full display as she smiles at the man next to me.
“What can I get you, handsome?” she purrs. I silently smirk at her words, how different she speaks to them than when she talks to me.
“We will both have whiskey on the rocks.”
That voice.
My body locks tight as I realize exactly who sits next to me.
Him.
Silas Vescari.
Think of the devil, and he shall appear.
I look up at Soph, whose eyebrows are raised, silently questioning me, but before I say anything, she says, “Just you; she is happy with her water,” and I still don’t look at him, impressed by Soph having a backbone on my behalf.
“You know what she likes?” Silas asks Soph, and I have to give it to her—she doesn’t falter at his dark, commanding voice.
He owns whatever room he walks into; I know that without a doubt.
The energy shifts whenever he speaks. And ordinarily, his presence is as cool as my morgue.
That’s the kind of power he has. Except this time, I didn’t even notice.
Have I become too used to his commanding presence?
“I do, so just one, or would you prefer a double?”
“Get me two, like I said,” he says, and she looks at me.
I don’t know if she knows who he is, so I just nod, and she walks off to pour our drinks.
When she brings them back, she places them on the counter, and he slides her two one-hundred-dollar bills.
She doesn’t offer to give him the change.
She takes them and walks off to serve the next.
I still haven’t made eye contact with him. I know that’s what he wants. My attention.
Looking down at my phone, I mindlessly start scrolling as I feel his eyes on me.
Neither of us make the first move to speak until I see him move forward, his elbows sliding along the counter.
Now he’s closer than ever, instead of leaning back on his stool.
He’s closing in on my space, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve been marked, just like I do every time I’m in his presence. Which naturally irritates me.
“Drink?” he asks, sliding the one Soph made for me closer.
“I didn’t want one. I have a water,” I finally speak back to him. “It was rude for you to assume what you think I like as well.”
“I know what you like.” That’s his only answer, and with a defeated sigh, I finally turn to him. His drink is pressed to his lips as he watches me over the rim of the glass.
“You know what I like?” The question hangs between us. I never know how to read Silas. He’s always commanding yet acting like a gentleman. But every time I’m on edge for what demand he has for me. It especially annoys me in the way he acts as if we’re well acquainted.
“Yes, this is your chosen drink. Do you care to lie and tell me otherwise?”
Of course he knows what my chosen drink is.
He would have done his research. Research I’m sure he could better be using to uncover his friend’s death.
Or maybe he already has, which is why I haven’t seen him.
I don’t fucking know, but it’s frustrating for me as well to have such a lack of resources to figure out what happened that night.
What I do know is none of the crew is acting out of sorts toward me, which means it’s been buried, hopefully alongside his friend’s body, respectfully.
“Why are you here?” My voice is flat.
“My men wanted to blow off some steam,” he casually says, not even bothering to look over his shoulder.
“And you just so happened to pick this place, on the night I am here?” There are multiple clubs in Boston, and I don’t believe in coincidences when it comes to this man.
He places his glass on the counter, and his fingertip rubs across the top of it in circles.
“Coincidence … some would say.”
I scoff, but choose not to speak again as I look away from him and back at my phone. Even though it’s hard, because he takes up so much room with his presence, it’s almost suffocating.
“Boss,” one of his men says. “There’s an issue…”
“What kind of issue?” he says, clearly not giving him any attention, his eyes still on me.
His man leans in and whispers, hoping I don’t overhear. “One of the guys got too handsy with the blonde, and well, she hit him, and now she is knocked out on the floor.”
My eyes swing to his, my stomach twisting with a gripping fear.
I’m moving before I can stop myself. I stalk to the private room and yank the curtain open and find Nessa on the floor.
She’s out cold. My breathing picks up seeing her like that, laying almost lifeless.
Her hands splayed out next to her face, and a man sits back on the lounge, laughing as he smokes a cigarette.
I rush over to Nessa and touch her softly on the shoulder. “Ness…”
“Oh, you want to dance for me too, whore?” the asshole lounging on the couch says. His eyes are dilated, and he’s clearly on something.
I ignore him and focus on Nessa. “Come on, honey … open your eyes.” My stomach twists into knots. No, no, no, come on, girl. Wake up.
Nessa slowly comes to and mumbles something.
Oh, thank fuck.
“Stay here. I’ll get Soph to help you. And where the fuck is security?” I growl, knowing that exceptions are probably made for men like these, which pisses me off even more.
Her eyes flicker open and land on me. “What the hell…” She’s dazed but quickly remembers what happened. “Oh no… Don’t do anything, Leo, you’ll get me fired.”
My jaw grinds when that’s the first thing she thinks of.
Then again, she’s probably thinking about Larissa.
Right now, I just need to get her out of here.
That’s all I’m focused on, my heart racing at the injustice of women dealing with pigs like this.
I wave to Soph at the bar, who immediately rushes past me to help Nessa.
Blood is trickling down her face, but I don’t know where exactly it’s coming from. Luckily, Soph is taller than both of us and easily pulls her up to stand.
The man on the lounge throws his head back and laughs.
All that bottled rage has nowhere to go as I narrow my gaze on him, and the moment she’s out of the room, I close in on the asshole. “What did you do to her, you limp-dicked asshole?”
His smile slips. “What did you fucking call me?”
“I called you a limp-dicked asshole. Want me to spell it out for you too or—”
He stands with a roar, his eyes bright with cocaine and rage. “You fucking cunt. Come over here and say that to my face.”
“I just said it to your face, asshole.”
His eyes grow wild. An ugly sneer spreads across his wet lips.
“Come a little closer, whore. I fucking dare you.”
That’s when I feel him behind me. A silent thundercloud at my back. Silas.