Chapter 2 Natasha
NATASHA
I smoothed my hands over my outfit as I sighed in the mirror. I hated this fucking thing. I hated the scantily-clad outfits they had us wear. But it was a themed party at the casino tonight. The Roaring Twenties. A time the mafioso himself would have thrived.
My flapper dress was much too tight. Way too form-fitting for the times.
Instead of tights, I wore fishnets with impossibly-high heels that probably didn’t even exist during those times.
The dress plunged low. My tits were hiked up.
My hair had been teased to the high heavens.
And my ruby red lips looked like they’d been blown up with plumper beforehand.
But it made the boss happy. Which meant steady money. I got to keep all the tips thrown at me or shoved down into my bra by nasty, drunken old men. It was steady money. Good money. And I didn’t have to keep running.
I was protected, with this kind of job.
I picked my tray back up and quickly headed out of the bathroom.
The noise of the casino and machines dinging off in the distance meant trouble for whoever had won on that slot machine.
The overlord, who everyone simply called “Lars,” didn’t like it when people won in his casino.
A handful of times, I saw someone walk away with their winnings.
Their pockets loaded with cash while everyone glared at them.
But I never did see those people come back.
Those who were lucky enough to prove to Lars himself that they didn’t cheat.
The second I hit the floor, men whistled at me.
Women shot daggers with their eyes at me.
Clinging to their rich men in hopes that I wouldn't steal them out from underneath their noses.
My job was to get people to spend as much money as possible.
Recommend new bets and games. Upsell drinks and food.
Flaunt my womanly ways to get them to tip me better.
But I was simply happy to be away from Ivan.
“You get back here, you bitch.”
“Ivan, please. I’m sorry. Just—”
“Why can’t you do anything right, Natasha!?”
The crack of his hand against the side of my cheek took me to the floor.
I scrambled to get away, only to feel his hand fist the back of my shirt.
He hated it when I fucked up our date night.
He hated it whenever I didn’t dress myself appropriately.
But he hated it even more if I didn’t take the time to groom myself for him. Stubble.
That set Ivan off more than anything.
“I just didn’t have time. It’s been such a long day, and I’m on my per—”
He hoisted me off the floor and slammed me into the wall.
“Ivan!”
“I don’t give a shit if you’ve just been in a damn car accident. I take care of you, Natasha. I give you everything. The least you could do is take care of yourself in case I want to look at you while I wank.”
I winced as someone brushed by me. It shocked me back to reality. I drew in a short breath and put on my best smile, watching as men stared me down. Old men. Rich men. Men with women more than half their ages hanging off them. Ready to suck their cocks for some pocket change.
Never again would I get myself into that kind of a scenario.
As much as working for the mafia revolted me, they were also the only people who had been able to keep me safe.
One night, I snuck out of my ex’s house and never looked back.
One night, after he passed out with alcohol in his veins and my smell on his cock, I risked everything to get out of there.
I grabbed my shit, eased myself out of the only window I knew didn’t have an alarm on it, and I shimmied down three stories.
On the outside of the house. Knowing damn good and well that if I plummeted to my death, it would be better than staying with him.
Waking up with him.
Hoping today wasn’t the day he’d kill me.
For days, I aimlessly walked around. I slowly sold my possessions until I had nothing but the clothes on my back.
In a pair of ratty leggings, a tunic that somehow kept its pristine appearance, and a pair of flats, I roamed around from city to city.
Eating cheap meals, sleeping in caves and under trees at night, and praying Ivan didn’t find me. Then, Phillip came along.
A man I’d met briefly while at a dinner party with Ivan.
“Hey, you good? You’re getting stared at.”
Phillip’s voice ripped me from my trance.
“I’m sorry. I just—the memories.”
He placed his hand on the small of my back. “Come with me.”
“I’m sorry, I promise—”
“You’re not in trouble. Just come with me.”
Phillip led me through the casino while smiling at those losing their money in droves. People placed their empty crystal glasses on my silver tray as I passed by. Some people gave us knowing looks. Grinning at us and making me sick to my stomach.
They thought we were going to go fuck in a closet somewhere.
But, really, Phillip was about to make me talk through this shit so I could work some more.
He opened a door in a shadowed corner and ushered me through. Straight into his office. He turned on the light and I sat the tray down against his desk. Then, I placed my hands against the hard edge. I bent over, drawing in deep breaths. Trying to shake the memory of Ivan.
Trying to shake that memory of when he first raped me.
“What triggered it?” Phillip asked.
“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll be okay in—”
“You aren’t listening to me. What triggered the flashback?”
I sighed. “I don’t—I don't know. One second I was fine, and the next…”
I slowly rose up before turning to face him. Those kind, green eyes and that light brown hair. The man looked positively innocent in the right light.
I knew him well enough to know he was anything but, though. He was a killer. Someone who wouldn't hesitate before slaughtering a cheater in the middle of this casino floor. I’d seen him do it before. Take a life without even breaking a sweat. Or flinching. Or generally showing any sort of remorse.
“Do you need a minute?” Phillip asked.
“I don’t know why I’m still scared of him,” I said.
“Because he brutalized you.”
I paused. “Thanks for that reminder.”
“He won’t get you here. You have my word on that. It’s why I brought you here.”
“I still owe you for that, you know.”
“You owe me nothing. I have to admit, there are times where I look at you and see the woman I found on the side of the road that day.”
My brow furrowed. “Really?”
He nodded. “Mhm. Never seen anything like it. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You need to work on that.”
“I know, I know. I’m so—”
I caught myself, and it made Phillip grin.
“You ready to get back out there?” he asked.
“Is it rational? You know, to be afraid Ivan’s going to find me?” I asked.
Phillip nodded. “It is. Especially after what you went through. But you have my promise he’s not getting anywhere near you.”
“Okay.”
“Does that help your mind?”
I smiled softly. “It does, yes. I guess, sometimes, I just need reassurance.”
“I get that. Sometimes, I need reassurance.”
I snickered. “On what?”
“All sorts of things. My sense of fashion. My killing techniques. The way I eat soup. You know, the usual.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Did you just make a joke?”
“Was it funny?”
“Actually, yeah. It kind of was.”
Phillip held out his hand, ushering me toward his office door. I picked up the silver tray and put it back on my shoulder, then straightened my back. I cracked my neck as he opened the door. He guided me back out onto the floor. And as he sent me off in one direction, he went off in another.
With men giving him high-fives and wide smiles.
Pigs.
The night ran long. I was ready to have it over.
The drinks poured and the food came out by the hundreds of pounds.
It felt like the entire state of California decided to turn out for this thing.
And I was sure it made my boss proud. He loved money.
They all loved money, really. And the more money that got stuffed into my bras and tossed onto my tray for the evening made me feel better about things.
Well, not completely better. But it helped overshadow where my mind kept trying to spiral.
On my first fifteen-minute break of the night, I picked around at a plate of food Phillip brought me.
On my second, though? I slipped into a back room and took a soft nap.
Nights like this always ran long. Which meant I’d be here, easily, until four in the morning.
I snapped awake with two minutes to spare.
A cat-nap I’d practically perfected as a waitress-slash-eye-candy-hostess at the mafia’s casino.
But as I went to head for my third fifteen-minute break, something caught my eye.
The guards at the front door started murmuring to themselves.
A couple of guards made their way from the back to the front.
I furrowed my brow as I stood off to the side, trying to figure out what was going on.
I narrowed my eyes, trying to get a glimpse of what time it was.
The clock on the wall was practically invisible.
But I could have sworn it read a bit past midnight.
No one pulled weapons. So, what the hell were the guards gathering for?
Then, I saw him.
A man walked between them before being handed his I.D. back. And as the man slipped them into his wallet, my lips parted in shock. Someone new. It had been weeks since someone new had come into this place. And wow, was this man ever hot.
Especially those dark green eyes of his.
His suit cut perfectly against his body.
Navy blue with a crimson red button-front shirt and a navy blue skinny tie.
His legs went on for days. His pants were cropped just slightly above his patent leather shoes.
They were black. Dark. And as my eyes worked their way back up his body, I saw that his shoes matched his hair.
Dark. Sleek. And shining for all to see.
As his eyes scanned the room, the first thing that struck me about him was his confidence.
His swagger. The way he carried himself.
He slipped one hand into his pocket and let the other swing about while he walked.
His raven black hair was long. Easily down past his ears.
He had it slicked back with gel that made his lovely locks shine.
But, when his head panned in my direction, our eyes connected.
Those dark green orbs rooted me to my spot.
My heart skipped a beat. I held my breath as his eyes lingered on me. Could he see me? I could’ve sworn I’d stepped into the shadows.
Then, in a flash, his stare was gone.
I let out the breath I was holding and slipped into the back room.
I didn’t have much longer for my break, and I wanted to get off my feet.
Blisters were already opening up, spewing liquid into my high, high heels.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, puffing out my cheeks with a long sigh.
“Four more hours,” I whispered to myself.
And I wondered if the new guy with the piercing stare might stay until we closed.