8. Noah
Noah
F ucking Delancy.
I can’t stand him.
He left suddenly… again.
I waited all day and night for him to return only to fall asleep on the couch because he never came back to his apartment.
It’s Saturday, and I don't have plans tonight. Maybe I should go back out to the gun range. I’ve owned guns before, but I just never understood the appeal. They're so... impersonal. Messy. The easy way out. Give me a knife any day.
The last time I even used one was a few years ago and my aim was shit. So, yeah, I need to practice.
Del’s re-direct approach helped me understand. It got me excited because when I find the men responsible for my mother’s death, I won’t hesitate to shoot the motherfuckers in the middle of the head.
I’ve been blankly staring at the shelves of my living room bookcase, trying to figure out what’s wrong with it.
Something’s off, but I can’t quite pinpoint what exactly.
I dusted the other day. I cleaned my entire apartment top to bottom out of frustration over the asshole next door.
Maybe the cleanliness is what’s so jarring.
My phone chirps with a text.
Bestie
Hey! I’m feeling sexy and want to go out tonight. Come with!
I laugh because Sage is always sexy.
Me
I’m down. Let’s go to Club 99 SoHo. 9pm?
Bestie
See you then, babe
She adds a kissy face emoji.
I’m not in the mood to fake laugh and flirt tonight, but Del is driving me crazy, and I need to blow off some steam. What better way than to find someone to fuck?
Wait a damn minute...
Now that I think about it, I used to have the best sex life. Then I met him. Delancy ruined sex for me.
It wasn’t until Adam that I finally accepted how desperately I want to fuck Del.
He’s been making a home at the depths of my subconscious, slowly chipping his way out to the forefront.
I need to get him out of my system. Especially if he’s going to be weird every time he sees me because of that malicious hug at the gun range.
He’s hot and cold. One minute he’s caring for my wounds and the next he’s running away.
Fucking men.
I need this night out. Maybe I’ll bring someone home and let Del listen through the wall to what he’s missing out on. I mean, I know he already does that, but the thought of him sitting alone in his apartment, dick hard in his hands while listening to my moans, turns me on.
Or I could invite him to join.
The buzzer to my apartment sounds. I called my hair stylist, Jenny, to book an in-home appointment because it’s time for a change.
My stomach twists with excitement at how Del will react to the new look. My hair gives him ammunition. He loves poking fun but what I have planned will hopefully garner an entirely new reaction. One that includes him taking me by the throat and fucking me against a wall. Or the floor.
Or anywhere, for fuck’s sake!
It takes a couple hours for Jenny to complete the transformation. I tip her generously and tell her I’ll text her when I’m ready for a new color.
I’m about to start the beautification process for tonight when there’s a knock on the door that’s so unnecessarily loud, I swear a SWAT team is on the other side.
I grab my knife, hiding it behind my back before answering... only for Bryan and Ryan, two of my father’s goons, to stroll in. They’re twins in their late twenties who have permanent scowls on their tanned and handsome faces.
“Crap. I forgot I asked you two to do this. You didn’t tell my dad, did you?”
They look at each other, then back at me with a mask of guilt.
“Seriously? Fine, I’ll deal with him later.” That must have been what the text was about telling me to come by the restaurant tomorrow. “I need to get ready, but you boys have at it.”
They’re changing my locks and adding additional ones. I don’t trust Del. He claims I left my door unlocked, but I know for a fact I didn’t. He totally picked the lock, and I bet he learned that useful skill as a “private investigator.”
I still don’t believe that’s his real job.
Abercrombie and Fitch get to work while I head into the bathroom to shower and shave. By the time I walk out, the guys are done and sitting at my tiny kitchen table, eating the ham and cheese Hot Pockets I’d been saving for a lazy day.
“Thanks for the new locks. You may go now.”
“Not if you’re going out,” Bryan, the one with short buzzed blond hair, says. “You know you’re supposed to call us when you leave this apartment, which you’ve been doing a lot. How do you keep getting past us, anyway?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
My father has them stationed on the street in front of my apartment. Not that that’s stopped me from ditching them whenever I want.
“Listen, Bry Guy,” I begin, dropping my robe to get dressed.
He’s not even phased by my naked body. His brother Ryan, however, stares at me, eyes as big as saucers with his mouth hanging open.
“There’s no way I’m letting you two follow me around all night, cock blocking me. Now, if you’d kindly fuck off…”
I slip on my red laced panties and strapless bra. Bryan rolls his eyes while Ryan adjusts himself and squirms in his seat.
“Your father will kill us if we disobey his orders,” Ryan says, gulping.
“I won't let him.”
Bryan chuckles, knowing I can’t do shit to stop my father when he has his mind set on killing someone.
I sigh and angrily snatch my dress off the hanger. “Fine, get the fuck out so I can finish dressing. I’ll meet you out in the car.”
“Nice try, Princess,” Bryan says. “We’ll wait outside your door.”
I flip them off the moment the door shuts.
They can’t tell me what to do. I’m a grown ass adult. A little immature sometimes, sure, but being responsible gets depressing so sometimes, I have to keep things… feisty.
I shimmy on the strapless black dress, the skin-tight fabric stretching over my rolls fantastically and makes my tits look luscious. My hair falls over my shoulders in thick, dark red curls, and my makeup is light except for the maroon lipstick to match my hair.
If only Del could see how fucking hot I look right now…
Not that I’ll see him tonight. I doubt he knows how to have fun. Has he ever been to a club? I can’t imagine him dancing.
Shrugging on my red leather jacket, I grab my clutch and red stilettos then crawl out my window bare foot. I climb down the fire escape and onto the ladder that leads to the ground of the trash area behind my apartment building.
I’m lucky the super keeps it clean back here, so I don’t step on a broken piece of glass or a mouse. More than often, I’m climbing up not down because I locked myself out of my apartment. At least the locks on the windows of this building are shit—
Wait.
Is that how Del got in?
I glance up at the fire escape and sure enough, his unit connects with mine.
Guess it’s time to reinforce those windows.
Unless I want Del to keep sneaking into my apartment.
I creep around the corner of the building to make sure one of the guys didn’t come out here to wait. That would have been smart: one waits at my door, the other in the car. But neither twin is outside, so I rush down the sidewalk to the corner bodega where I called my Uber.
My dad is going to be pissed that I ditched my protection again, especially since I agreed to let them escort me out in public.
Oops. I lied.
After a forty-minute ride from Astoria, the Uber pulls up to the front of Club 99 SoHo.
It’s one of those upscale spots that’s frequented by the rich and famous.
Which means it’s discreet. No security cameras inside or out.
That’s why I drag Sage here. My father doesn’t have spies at this club.
At least, none that I’ve seen because I certainly would have heard about it.
Aside from the gun range and his restaurants, Gio Lenetti also owns about a dozen bars and clubs around Manhattan and the Bronx.
Too many times over the past two months after a night of partying, I’d wake up to an angry text from my father yelling at me to only go to the clubs owned by him so he can keep an eye on me.
My phone buzzes and Bryan’s name flashes across the screen again. That’s the tenth time he’s called now. I have about twenty text messages from Ryan too. They’ve probably tried to trace my phone’s location, but I made sure that wasn’t possible a long time ago.
A long line wraps around the corner of the club, packed full of people dressed in their sleekest attire.
Sage is waiting at the entrance, flirting with the bouncer, Marco.
He’s a huge guy with an equal amount of muscle and fat.
He’s not too tall, about my height, and he has long curly hair that he keeps up in a man bun on the top of his head.
His brown eyes light up when speaking to Sage.
She’s hooked up with him a few times, which helps get us a fast pass inside.
It’s very clear he’s in love with her, but my best friend is like me.
She’s not looking for commitment. At least, for Sage, she has reasons.
She’s a divorcee who’s about to turn thirty-three.
Her asshole ex stole her identity and racked up thousands of dollars in debt.
He went to jail, but his sentence was only a year.
I keep telling Sage I can get rid of him, but she dismisses the idea as if I’m joking. I’m not. I will kill him if she says the word. Or maybe she knows I’m serious and doesn’t want me to get in trouble and that’s why she also refuses to tell me about the other horrible things he’s done to her.
“Noey!” she sings once spotting me.
“Damn, woman,” I praise, giving her a once over. She’s wearing a body-hugging red midi dress with a sweetheart neckline and built-in corset to give her breasts a bouncy boost. Her blonde hair is up in a high ponytail. All she needs is a whip to complete the dominatrix look.
Sage poses like a pinup model, one hand on her hip, the other up in the air.
“Do you like? I’m feeling really demanding right now and want to find a good boy to boss around.”
“I think I'm in love with you,” I laugh, hooking my hand through her arm.
“Do you want to watch? I’ll let you give orders.” Her eyes light up in excitement at the prospect.
“Maybe. We’ll see how the night goes.”
Marco unhooks the red velvet rope and lets us inside. We ignore the boos from the people waiting in line, throwing back our heads and cackling like the evil bitches we are.
Heat greets us the moment we step into the coat check, a welcome to the harsh December air outside. We hand over our jackets and walk down a long hallway where flashing lights are synced to whatever song is playing over the speakers.
Passing through a velvet curtain, we enter the main space.
Club 99 SoHo used to be a theater in the eighties. It’s four stories tall with balconies on each level, allowing people to stand around and chat or observe the dance floor below. A DJ is set up on a small stage at the back and four cages hang on either side where hired dancers are gyrating.
Bodies already crowd the massive dance floor. We squeeze our way through, heading to the bar lining the left side of the massive space.
Sage flags down the bartender. Harry gives us a wave and a wink, letting us know he saw us. He already knows our orders since we’re somewhat regulars here now.
While waiting, I turn and scan the crowd, hoping to find someone to take home. I barely get a good look at the beautiful people when I'm suddenly jolted to the side by a massive body bumping into me.
“What the fuck?” I bark.
I whip around to see who the clumsy asshole is and nearly choke on my next words. “Oh, well, hello there.”
A gorgeous man stands before me, his green eyes wide and face growing red from embarrassment. He’s tall and slim with chiseled cheeks and a well-defined jaw.
A God, perhaps?
“I am so sorry.” He runs his fingers through dirty blond hair. “I didn’t mean to run into you like that. Someone knocked into me, and it was a domino effect.”
I wave him off, blushing. “It’s okay. It happens.”
He looks behind me.
“Are you here with a boyfriend?”
I raise my brow at him. Real smooth.
“No, just my girlfriend.” I point my chin back at Sage who gives him a little wave and blows him a kiss.
A sly smile spreads across his face that might have been creepy if my horniness and his beauty weren’t currently clouding my judgment.
“Let me buy you a drink.” He holds up his hands at whatever look I just gave him. “As an apology for accidentally bumping into you.”
“Was it an accident? Bumping into me?”
“Cross my heart,” he says, followed by the motion. He winks and gives me another mischievous smile to tell me he, in fact, meant to bump into me.
He does some finger wagging to get Harry’s attention, then points to himself and me and mimes taking a drink. Harry nods, but I catch the eye roll before he turns away.
Blondie doesn’t notice the shade because he’s now leaning his arm on the bar, crowding my personal space. I don’t mind. He smells fantastic: rose, amber, sandalwood, and other scents I couldn’t name. Expensive for sure.
I glance over his shoulder at Sage, and she mouths ‘oh my god.’
“You know… I’ve seen you in here before,” he says.
“Oh yeah? And why haven’t you introduced yourself until now? Do I intimidate you?”
“A little, yeah.”
Good. He should fear me. I have plans for him.
Harry arrives with our drinks. A vodka soda with a splash of cranberry for me and whiskey for my target. He holds up his glass.
“What should we toast?” I ask.
He smirks. “How about to ‘Cillian O’Connor, finally working up the courage to speak to the beautiful woman who will surely want to dance with him.’”
I snort as we clank glasses. “Just dance? You don’t want to fuck me?”
He chokes on the booze, and I hide my humor by taking a sip of my own drink.
I set down my glass and grab Cillian’s hand.
“Dance with me, Cilly Boy.” Killy Boy. I’m so clever.
“I think it’s only fair you tell me your name since you now know mine,” he says while following my lead.
“Is it?” I laugh. “Fine. You can call me Rio.”
“Rio? That’s an interesting name.”
“It’s short for Sicario.”