Chapter 12
Siena
W hy did it feel like I left a piece of my soul behind when the car pulled away from the curb? It was just one weekend—a fling. A few days of the most amazing, mind-blowing sex I'd ever had, but still just a fling. Ryan Lawson definitely knew how to fuck. There was no arguing that point.
He had a fuck-hot body—one I'd been fantasizing about for two years—but never in my wildest dreams did I ever think he could live up to my expectations. After this weekend, I would gladly admit to being wrong about that. Not only did he live up to every single one of them, he knocked them out of the ballpark.
On the drive back to the mansion, I got lost in my thoughts. Tony had always been a selfish lover. Everything we did in the bedroom was about him and his pleasure. I spent way more time on my knees sucking him off than I did screaming his name in ecstasy as he fucked me. If I was being honest, I had to fake my orgasms more often than not so as not to give him a complex. Sweet, hot, fuckable Ryan, on the other hand, was all about giving me pleasure. His tongue...his fingers... My god, he was every woman’s dream come true. How many times could that man make me cum?
It was just my luck that I would start to fall for someone I could never have, though. I was Tony Valenti's girl, and even if he had chosen to loan me out on a bet, I didn’t see that changing anytime soon. Well, fuck him! For the first time since we’d been dating, I got something I wanted out of it. And as much as I wanted to stay with Ryan, I knew it was impossible. If he and I were to ever go behind Tony’s back, we would both be pushing up daisies within a week. One thing I'd learned in my time with Tony is that you don't mess with a mob family...especially the Valentis.
It was unbelievable how I got myself into this mess. When I left my old life behind, I swore I would never let a man control me again, and yet, here I was, in nearly the same situation. I had gone from one shitty life to another. I was working on a way out, but there was nothing I could do about it at the moment. My plan was to bide my time and then disappear forever.
My mother had died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised by my sperm donor, Allen Clark. Even though he provided half of my DNA and a roof over my head for 17 years, that man would never be my father. To put it mildly, Al was an asshole. I couldn’t tell you how much time I spent in the hospital from broken bones or concussions growing up. The fucker always told the doctors that I was clumsy and could easily trip over air or my own two feet. No one ever questioned him, either, because he was the Chief of Police of Murphy, Oregon, the small town we lived in. There was no reason not to believe him. He had the respect of the town. He could charm anyone to do his bidding without even blinking an eye. When we would finally get home, he'd tell me I was a waste of space and money, and that he couldn't wait to get rid of me any way he could. When I was 15, he threatened to sell me to one of his deputies that was “looking for a well behaved bitch to clean up after him.” He said he couldn’t, in good conscience, go through with it, because I was anything but well behaved. I fit the bitch part well, though, according to him.
I put up with his abuse for years, waiting for the chance to get the hell out of that shitty little town. By the time I was seventeen, I had managed to secretly save up about three thousand dollars. Knowing I may not get another shot, I packed my bags one night while Al was on shift at the station, and ran as far from Murphy as fast as I could. Once I’d hitchhiked over the state line and into Idaho, I worked out a plan. I could no longer be Siena Clark, so I borrowed the name of a nice old lady who had taken me halfway across Oregon on her way to visit family. I found a job in a little roadside diner, settled in at a cheap motel, and stayed for a few months. It was important never to get too comfortable or call attention to myself, so every month or two, I packed up and left without looking back. Each new place I stayed, I changed my name. I wasn't sure where I was going; I just knew that the more distance I put between me and that asshole, the better.
Between the cash I earned in tips and what I had with me when I left Oregon, I was able to make it two full years on the run. At the age of nineteen, I’d ended up in Chicago, Illinois unable to go any farther. My money had finally run out. I assumed the name Trixie and lived in homeless shelters for a while. After a few months, I managed to get a job at a small, twenty-four-hour diner, and the owner agreed to pay me under the table. A month later, I was able to rent a room at a shabby, roach-infested motel. It wasn’t glamorous by any means, but at least it was better than the shelters
I was working the graveyard shift at the diner one night. At about three in the morning, a group of men dressed in tailored suits came in and sat at a booth. They were sorely out of place in the run-down diner, but they didn't seem to notice or care. They talked amongst themselves, but stopped abruptly as I approached the table to get their orders. That was the night I met Carlo Valenti, the Boss of the Valenti mob family, for the first time. I didn't know who he was back then, so I treated him like any other customer.
The men sat and talked for hours, ordering only coffee and pie. Mr. Valenti kept his eye on me throughout the night, and I didn't know how I felt about that. If I was being honest, it sort of creeped me out. I was wary when he signaled me for the check, but I printed it out and approached with a smile on my face.
As he reached for his wallet, he grinned at me. "Ah, Miss Trixie, you are a lovely young lady with such a nice smile. May I ask what it is that has you working in a run-down hole-in-the-wall like this?"
His face was friendly and his voice sounded genuinely curious, so I decided to tell him the short version of my fucked-up life. "I was dealt a shit hand of cards in a previous life. When I moved to Chicago, it took me two months to find a place to work that would be okay with paying me off the books. It's not ideal, but it puts a roof over my head."
His face instantly morphed with a wide grin and his eyes twinkled. "Then I have a proposition for you, my dear. I run several gentlemen's clubs right here in Chicago, and I’m always looking for new talent. I would pay you five-hundred a night to start, off the books of course, and whatever tips you make would be yours to keep."
I was speechless for a moment, but finally took a deep breath and was able to collect my thoughts. "Gentlemen’s clubs? You mean...you want me to be like...a stripper?" I asked, slightly offended. I couldn't believe this guy thought I would be willing to take my clothes off for a bunch of strangers just to make some cash. I was no virgin, but I had more fucking class than that.
"No, sweet Trixie, I don't mean like a stripper. Of course, you can do that if you please, but it wouldn't be a requirement. Tell me, have you ever done any dancing?"
I thought back to high school and the year of dance that I took. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing, so I nodded as I explained. "I took a year of dance in school. It was fun for the most part but was hell on muscles I didn’t even know I had."
Mr. Valenti chuckled. "Yes, I'm sure it was." He slipped his hand into his suit pocket and pulled out a business card to give me. "My number is on the card. Think about the offer and give me a call. I think you would fit in well with the girls at Cherries. In fact, I’m so sure of it, I’m willing to pay you one thousand dollars just come try it for a night. If it doesn’t suit you, you’re free to leave with the thousand and any tips you make, and you’ll never see me again. It was a pleasure to meet you, Trixie. I hope to hear from you soon." With that, Carlo Valenti walked out of the diner with the other men following behind him.
It had only taken me one night to think about his offer. That was two years ago, and that first day I walked into Cherries, I met Tony and Ryan. Two years since I had seen Ryan in the alley beating the shit out of some guy. The rest was history.
After the first time Tony and I had gone out, we started dating. It was nice at first, having a special someone who doted on me. He would give me gifts and whisper sweet nothings in my ear. He treated me like a queen for about a month, and then told me that I needed to move in with him. He said he hated that I was living in such a shitty motel and wanted to keep me safe. Everything inside me screamed at me to run, but what choice did I have? The Valentis were a mob family, and they always got what they wanted.
Things had started to change once I made the move. Tony became possessive, treating me more like I was his property rather than his girlfriend. He told me he loved me, but I knew he didn't. He simply loved the idea of me. He loved being able to brag to his friends that he was fucking the hottest dancer at Cherries, and that I belonged to him. He enjoyed pulling his weight around and threatening people who even looked at me wrong.
No, Tony didn't love me. That much was clear. If he loved me, he wouldn't dip his fucking dick into every damn pussy at the club behind my back. He must've thought I was blind not to have seen it. Hell, he would come home at three or four in the morning and I would smell some nasty pussy on him every time. I didn't say anything because I knew it wouldn't do any good anyway. Let’s not forget the fact that if he loved me, he would never have agreed to the bet with Ryan. Who does that to someone they love.
Twenty minutes later, as the taxi pulled up to the mansion, I knew things needed to change. I was no longer going to allow Tony to treat me like trash. Why had I let it go on as long as I had? I thought I had left the abuse behind me when I left Murphy two years before. Fear was a suffocating thing, though. My fear of what would happen if I stood up to Tony had controlled my life and every decision I made from the minute I said yes to him. It was time to put my foot down and stand up for myself, consequences be damned. My night with Ryan showed me that I was better than that. That I deserved better than that. I should be cherished. I knew it was just sex with him, but the way he looked at me—the way his eyes seemed to penetrate my soul—made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
When the car came to a stop, I got out, grabbed my bag, and walked inside. Tony was right there waiting for me, wearing holes in the rug like I knew he would be. The thought of me spending the weekend with Ryan had to have been driving him crazy! Well, he could stew on it for all I cared. I wouldn’t be talking to him for a while.
"Hey, baby," he said, immediately trying to pull me into his arms. I pushed his hand away and walked up the stairs without a word. I had showered before leaving Ryan’s, but I was far from relaxed, so I locked myself in the bathroom and started filling the tub.
An hour later, I emerged from the bathroom in my white robe and saw Tony sitting on our bed, wringing his hands. His eyes met mine and they looked remorseful. I almost felt bad for him, but then I remembered it was his fault in the first place. Without a word, I walked to the dresser, pulled out an armful of clothes, and walked down the hall to the guest room. When I got there, I closed the door behind me and locked it.
Within seconds, Tony was there, banging on the closed door. "Goddammit, Trixie! Open this fucking door and talk to me. I'm sorry, okay? It will never happen again, I promise!"
His words were my breaking point, and I found myself ripping the door open and getting right up in his face. "Don't you fucking talk to me that way, Tony. This is your fault. You're the one who bet me on some fucking game of craps. And for what? A fucking sports car! You were so damned determined to take Ryan’s car from him, that you didn’t care what the fuck it cost you. Do I honestly mean that little to you?" He tried to interrupt but I kept talking. "Something like this is gonna take time to get over. Until I do, I don't want to talk to you. I'll be moving my things into this room and will be sleeping here until further notice. I don't want to hear shit about it, either. You owe me at least that after what you did. Now, get the hell away from me so I can get ready for work. I have to be at the club in a little while."
It was a lie, but I knew he wouldn't check. I wasn't scheduled to go in, but I needed to work off some of my pent up anger. Dancing had become a great outlet for me to do just that. I dressed in a pair of white cut-offs and a black tank, applied my makeup, brushed out my hair, and then walked out the door. My gold hot pants, matching bikini top, and gold stilettos were already in my locker in the dressing room, so I didn't have to worry about those. I'd change once I got there.
Tony was downstairs pacing in the hallway, and looked up instantly when I descended the stairs. I shook my head at him and walked out the front door without a word, waving down his personal driver. The car pulled up and I scrambled into the backseat. "Take me to the club, please," I instructed.
He looked at me in the rearview mirror, and then to Tony, who was standing in the entryway of the mansion. His shoulders sagged, but he nodded his head slightly, signaling his driver that it was okay to go. A moment later, the car pulled out onto the street and we were in traffic on our way to Cherries.
When I got there, I walked straight back to the dressing room, praying Barbie wasn't there. I really couldn't stand that bitch, especially with the way she talked about fucking Ryan all the time. I was in luck; Libby and Star were the only ones in the room, and I actually considered them to be friends.
"I thought you had tonight off. What are you doing here?" Star asked when she saw me. She was a petite brunette with a tiny waist and an obvious boob job. Why she would choose to be a size E with that small frame, I had no idea, but to each her own. The patrons didn’t seem to care that her tits didn’t bounce when she danced. She made decent tips. I guess tits were all the same for most men. They only ever thought with their dicks, anyway.
I wanted to tell the girls about my time with Ryan and that I was here to get away from Tony, but I didn't dare do it here. Sure, we were the only ones in the room, but Carlo owned the club, and I knew he had ways of keeping track of his girls. I didn't want word to get back to Tony about how incredible my weekend had been. "I just need to blow off some steam. Think you girls can squeeze me in?" I asked as I slipped into my gold bikini top and hot pants.
"I'm supposed to go on in twenty minutes. You can take the slot if you want. I need to make a phone call anyway," Libby said with a shrug of her shoulders.
"Thanks, Lib. You're the best. Let me get changed and then I'll let Jesse know. I feel like dancing to some Def Leppard tonight!" With that, I slipped into my stilettos and walked out to the DJ booth.
"Well if it isn't the ever popular Trixie. What can I do for you, doll?" Jesse asked when I walked up behind him and gave him a playful shove.
I couldn't help but smile. Jesse was one of the DJs who worked at the club. Out of all of them, he was definitely my favorite because he was so easy going. "Hey, Jes. Lib said I could take her next slot and I feel like dancing to some Def Leppard. Can you queue up Pour Some Sugar On Me?"
"You got it, babe," he said with a grin before looking over my shoulder at something that caught his eye. I turned to see Ryan walking in the door and heading straight for his office in the back. Fuck, he looked good! "Looks like something's going on," Jesse commented, gesturing in the direction Ryan headed off in. "He didn't acknowledge a single person here and that's not like him."
I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly, muttered a quick thank you, and headed back to the dressing room. My weekend with Ryan was over. I needed to forget about how incredible he made me feel and move on. If Tony knew how much I wanted a repeat of it, he'd kill us both.
Ten minutes later, I headed backstage to wait for my turn. When the music ended and the lights dimmed, I took my place by the pole, breathed in deeply, and then looked to Jesse and nodded. The moment Joe Elliot's voice filtered through the speakers, I was moving. Dancing had been just what I needed when Carlo found me, even if I hadn’t realized it at the time. When that music started to play, instinct took over, and I lost myself to the performance.
I moved seamlessly to the beat, letting the song pump through my veins. About halfway through, as I was grinding against the pole, I glanced up to see Ryan staring at me from across the club. The look in his eyes had me instantly wet, and I wanted to jump off the stage and fuck him again right then. It wasn't possible, though, so I kept dancing through the rest of the number. He and Jamie had walked out a minute after I spotted him, and I suspected they were off on 'official business' for the family. I just hoped it was nothing too dangerous, and if it was, that Ryan would come back in one piece.