Claiming Ariel
CHAPTER ONE: ARIEL
I’m running late. Again. I quickly pull on the fishnet tights and leather mini skirt that is part of my work uniform. The see-through lace tank that barely covers my black bra is next. I hate this outfit so much. It’s completely the opposite of how I usually dress. I’ve been working at Elixir for six months and am still uncomfortable with it.
I pull my long black hair into a high ponytail and check my makeup. Perfect cat eye and blood-red lipstick. Another thing that is completely opposite of how I normally look. I would much rather be in my ratty sweats wearing my glasses than dressed in whore-chic with contacts. I shouldn’t be complaining. I’m lucky that my best friend Maxi was able to help me get this job after I had to drop out of Harvard and come back home to take care of my father.
Working at the coffee shop on the corner didn’t pay enough to keep our heads above water. Elixir has been a godsend. I can pay most of our bills on time and get my dad’s medications. Groceries are hit-and-miss, but I can’t complain. I’m grateful for the work, even if it’s not what I thought I’d be doing with my life.
I push thoughts of what could’ve been out of my mind. I have no time to dwell on lost dreams. Especially not when I need to be firmly planted in reality. I’ve got responsibilities that I can’t ignore.
One final glance in the mirror, and I slip my feet into the black stilettos that will kill my feet long before my shift ends.
Dad is sitting in his old recliner watching reruns of Happy Days, though, for him, it’s like watching them for the first time. He’s fifty-six years old and suffers from Alzheimer’s. He was diagnosed three years ago but hid it from me until eight months ago when our stepmother decided it was too much for her and left. I dropped out of college and moved home to find out that my stepmother had cleaned out every penny of my dad’s savings. Not to mention the piles and piles of credit card debt, a foreclosure notice on the house I grew up in, and past-due notices on every bill imaginable.
Now we live in a shitty apartment in a shitty neighborhood with an even shittier landlord who would love it if I paid our rent in sexual favors instead of cash. Rent is always the first bill I pay. I refuse to get myself into a situation that either leaves us homeless or where I have to have sex with my sleazy landlord so we don’t get kicked out.
“Hey, Dad. Time for bed.”
“Oh, Ariel. When did you get home? How did the debate meet go?”
“I graduated high school, remember?”
My heart hurts at the confusion on his face. He looks way older than fifty-six. He’s lost a lot of weight, and his face looks haggard. Today is somewhere between a good day and a bad day. Good because he recognizes me, bad because he’s stuck somewhere in the past.
“That’s good, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”
“Let’s get you ready for bed now,” I say, helping him from the chair and to his bedroom.
I walk him through brushing his teeth and changing into his pajamas, then tuck him into bed. I say a prayer that he will stay asleep until I get home from work. Twice he’s woken up and left the apartment, getting lost on his way to a job he hasn’t had in years. Thankfully both times he was picked up by police officers, and they called the number on his ID bracelet so I could come get him.
I live in fear that he will go out again and something terrible will happen to him. There’s nothing I can do about it. I have to work, and working while he’s sleeping is the better of two evils. During the day he’s awake and more likely to get himself into trouble.
I kiss his forehead before I leave. I lock up the apartment and run as fast as my heels will let me to the bus stop. I get there just in time. Several people give me nasty looks, probably thinking I’m a hooker because of my outfit. I can’t really blame them for the assumption. Thankfully there is an empty seat in the back. It’s a brief reprieve for my feet. I stare out the window as the city passes by. I used to love living in New York City. That was before I had to give up my dreams and was blissfully unaware of how truly unfair life can be. The naivety that my parents would always be there for me and that I’d always have a safe home to come back to has been snatched away.
I hop off the bus and start the five-block walk to Elixir. My feet already hurt. It’s going to be a long night. Elixir is the biggest, most popular club in the city. Everybody that’s anybody wants to be seen here. There’s always a line out the door full of hopefuls that won’t make the cut.
“Ariel!” Maxi shouts excitedly above the crowd.
“Hey, Maxi. Is it just me or is it even busier than normal?”
“It’s a full moon tonight. You know everyone goes a little wild.”
Ugh. I don’t know what it is about full moons, but they definitely make people a little crazy. I don’t believe in the moon cycle and all that woo-woo horoscope crap, but it’s hard to deny the full moon crazy when I see it firsthand.
I quickly start taking orders and mixing cocktails. The hours pass by in a blur of liquor and music blaring through the club.
“Oh my God!” Maxi says, gripping my arm. “They’re really here!”
“Who’s here?” I ask, looking around but not seeing anything beyond the usual crowd.
“I thought it was a rumor, but the Kozlovs are here. Holy shit, they are hot.”
The crowd seems to clear, and I get my first look at the five men dressed in expensive suits walking through the crowd. I’m a little in awe at how the crowd parts for them like the Red Sea. I’ve never seen them before, but I know exactly who the Kozlovs are. Everyone knows who they are, and if they are smart, they fear them.
The Kozlov family is old school mafia. They run the dark dealing of the city along with a dozen other legitimate businesses. I know firsthand the level of evil they bring out in people. My brother works for them. He’s a low-level drug dealer that pushes the Kozlov product to innocents. I watched as he spiraled from dealer to user. Now he’s a shell of who he once was, all because he got wrapped up in the Kozlov family.
I watch in disgust as they pass the bar. As if he senses my glare, one of the men turns his dark eyes to me. He’s startlingly handsome. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a sharp jaw. His suit fits him perfectly. I can tell it’s specially tailored to fit because there is no way a suit off the rack would fit his muscular frame. He’s a devil wearing the face of an Adonis.
I try to pull my eyes away, but I’m trapped in his gaze. My feet are rooted to the ground where I stand. My heart is pounding in my chest. I feel trapped by him, and he’s done nothing more than look at me. Seconds, minutes, hours pass before he turns indifferent eyes away and continues to the VIP area. I’m suddenly released from his captivating hold, and the club noise comes rushing back, overwhelming my senses.
What the heck just happened?
“I told you they were hot,” Maxi teases, obviously noticing my staring.
“They’re dangerous,” I say instead of agreeing with her.
She’s not wrong. They are all hot. If I didn’t know what they were underneath those expensive suits, I would be drooling just like my best friend. I know better though. I know how they ruin lives and break apart families.
“Dangerous is sexy,” she says with a smirk.
A few minutes later another group of men walks through. They’re also wearing suits but are much older, and something about them makes my skin crawl. They follow the same path the Kozlovs did, disappearing up the stairs and into the VIP section. I shake myself out of my stupor and get back to work. Drinks won’t serve themselves.
“Mermaid,” Marty shouts.
I do my best not to scowl at the nickname. I hate it. I hate that I let him get to me even more. He’s not coy with his intentions toward me. He wants me and has been trying to get in my pants since I started working here. I’ve declined every time, and he just brushes it off like he was joking around. His eyes don’t lie. I can feel them on me like an unwanted touch. It makes me nauseous. Sometimes I wonder how long he will put up with me denying him. My only saving grace is that the owner, Clyde, likes me and would question Marty if he were to fire me.
“What’s up, Marty?”
“You’re needed up in VIP.”
My jaw hits the ground. I’ve never worked VIP before. They put the most attractive waitresses and bartenders up there. I’m definitely not VIP material, which is fine with me. I’m perfectly happy down here with the ordinary people.
“I don’t work upstairs.”
He grimaces, probably agreeing with me wholeheartedly. I would be angry if I didn’t agree with him. “You do tonight. Hurry up before he gets pissed.”
“Who?”
Why would anyone get pissed off that I’m not upstairs?
“Dmitri Kozlov.”
A chill shivers down my spine when Marty tells me exactly who requested my presence. I can’t help remembering the dark, dangerous look when his eyes clashed with mine. I feel like a lamb being led to slaughter as I’m pulled up the stairs.
“Listen, Mermaid. I have no idea why he requested you specifically, but he wants you. I want you to smile, pour drinks, and keep your mouth shut. You don’t see or hear anything that happens up there. Keep them happy, and you’ll make more money in one night than you could all month downstairs. Don’t fuck up.”
I nod, unable to think beyond doing the math on how much money I can possibly make for taking care of a bunch of entitled mobsters. The extra money will go a long way to helping with bills. It’s time to refill my dad’s prescriptions, and I’ve been worried I wouldn’t have enough money. Tonight will fix that worry.
We get to the top of the stairs, and Marty whirls on me, tightening his hold on my arm. “Do not fuck this up.”
“I won’t.” I try to pull my arm from his grasp, but he only tightens his hold. I wince at the pain. That’s going to leave a bruise.
“You better not. You don’t want to know what happens if you fuck up.”
The nausea is back. I can only imagine what could happen, and I think losing my job would be the least of my worries. I’m instantly relieved when I see Aubrey behind the bar. At least I won’t be alone up here. That relief is short-lived when she flashes me an angry glare and leaves. That’s when I notice there are no waitresses either. Marty has also disappeared, leaving me up here alone with a bunch of dangerous criminals.
What the heck have I gotten myself into?
One of the older men snaps his fingers at me. I want to snarl at him that I’m not a dog, but I know that won’t go over well. I straighten my spine and walk over to take his order. The closer I get, the slimier he looks. He’s got greasy hair, and his skin is pocked and red. His nose is too big for his face and has obviously been broken. None of that is as off-putting as his lecherous smile and the look in his eyes.
Once again, my skin crawls under his scrutiny. The last thing I want to do is get closer to this man. I have a job to do, and I can’t exactly run away like I want to. I plaster a fake smile on my face, determined to get through this night without messing up.
“Can I get you a drink?” I ask, forcing my smile even bigger to hide my discomfort.
“I’d rather have a taste of you,” he says, licking his chapped lips.
I do my best to hide my disgust. It won’t end well for me if I piss these guys off. “I’m not on the menu. I’d be happy to get you a drink though.”
His smile drops, and he glares at me. I’m guessing this isn’t a man people say no to and live to tell the tale. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for his response. I say a little prayer that he won’t push the issue.
“Pity. Scotch. None of that cheap shit either.”
“Right away, sir.”
I scurry off to the bar and grab the Macallan, the best scotch we have at over five thousand dollars a bottle. I quickly pour the drink and rush to deliver it. I hand him the glass, and he purposely touches my fingers. A wave of disgust roils through me at the seemingly innocent touch. Nothing about this man is innocent. He’s calculating and devious, and he’s got his eyes set on me.
I turn my attention to the other men and ask if I can get anyone else a drink. All of the men who came with the sleaze bag ask for scotch, which was not surprising. What is surprising is that the men that came with Dmitri request water, causing the other men to laugh.
“Relax and have a man’s drink.” The sleaze bag jeers at Dmitri.
I see a flash of irritation shoot through Dmitri’s eyes before it’s snuffed out by indifference. His dark eyes travel from mine down my body slowly. I swear I can feel the gaze like a touch. I’ve never had this kind of reaction to a man before. Why is it that the first time I’ve ever been turned on by a man does it have to be a monster?
What is wrong with me?
His lips tilt up in a knowing smirk. That shakes me out of my lustful stupor and has me rushing behind the bar to gather their drinks. I keep the alcohol flowing for Dmitri’s friends and make sure his water is always full. After an hour, a group of scantily clad women struts through the room and straight towards the men. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize these ladies are prostitutes.
The women giggle and flirt with the men and let out fake squeals when they are pulled down into their laps. A busty redhead is leaning over Dmitri, running her fingers over his shoulder and down his chest. His hand shoots out and grabs her wrist, pulling her hand away. Her eyes widen in fear for a moment, then she regains her smile and continues to flirt.
I’m too far away to hear what he says, but from the look on the redhead’s face, it wasn’t good. She moves to the other side of the table and starts running her hands down the sleaze bag’s chest. The woman already on his lap doesn’t seem to care one bit. I suppose as a working girl you do whatever makes the men happy.
I watch the scene unfold in front of me with disgust. One of the women is on her knees rubbing the crotch of one of the men that came with the sleaze bag. I look at the rest of the men and notice that even though Dmitri’s men are getting attention from the women, they aren’t enjoying it like the other guys. Dmitri is the only one without a woman. He’s obviously trying hard to hide his look of disdain, but I can see through it.
His eyes find mine again, and I duck my head. My cheeks heat in a blush at being caught staring at him. I sneak another look and am met with his dark gaze. My breath catches in my throat, and my nipples harden in response to his heated look. I curse my body for reacting so strongly to a man I despise.
I force myself to turn my focus to cleaning the already spotless bar. Anything to draw my focus away from Dmitri Kozlov.