Chapter 1
TWO YEARS LATER
SKYLAR
The club is annoyingly busy tonight, which is weird because it’s a Monday.
Who the fuck goes clubbing on a Monday? Either way, Capital Vice is by far the most popular club in the Golden Heights area.
It’s a massive two-story nightclub with four separate bars, cages that are suspended from the rafters that our girls perform in, and one of my favorite aspects is a private section on the second floor.
That’s where the most elite of the elite go to have a good time in privacy, talk and exchange business, or simply enjoy the company of one or even multiple of our dancers.
I, myself, am no dancer, but I’m a damn good bartender and bottle service waitress that’s made my fair share catering to these high-profile individuals.
Politicians, government officials, entrepreneurs, and even the Kings’ Aces: the local motorcycle club who are known as the true rulers of Golden Heights—and one of the main reasons I settled here two years ago.
We serve them all, the good and the bad. We don’t care who comes to the club as long as they keep our environment safe for everyone else to enjoy. Money is money, and we don’t care where it comes from. It’s how I’ve managed to support myself these past few years.
“Hey, babe. Be a good girl, will ya, and get me another beer.” I fake a smile as I turn and grab another beer for this low-life college kid who looks as though he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
Khaki shorts, a striped polo shirt, loafers, and a backwards lacrosse hat, giving him the typical “Daddy’s money” attire.
I roll my eyes as I crack open his beer and slide it across the bar to him.
“Thanks, princess.” He winks at me as he turns and heads back towards his group of frat buddies.
“God, I freaking hate college guys. They’re all the same.
They think their shit don’t stink and we should worship the ground they walk on,” Driesell says to me in a louder than normal tone due to the music being at maximum volume.
I nod in agreement as I continue serving the mass of people at the bar.
School is about to start, and all the college kids are trying to get in as much partying as possible before they’re inundated with schoolwork, tests, and whatever else college kids have to do. Thank fuck that’s not me.
“Hey, girl!” I hear a familiar voice scream at me at the end of the bar.
I turn to see Sage, Ophelia, Bristol, and Freida huddled together, giving me the biggest smiles and waving their little hands off.
I smile at them and wave to Driesell that I’ll be right back.
I met these girls about a year ago when I noticed they frequented the club.
They soon started treating me like one of their own.
I’ve never had close girlfriends growing up, so having these girls has been a breath of fresh air.
It’s something I’ve always wanted but never imagined I could actually have.
I’d since given up on the whole having girlfriends thing, but these girls welcomed me in almost immediately.
As if they’ve always known me and included me in their circle.
I adore these girls, and that’s saying something.
I make my way down the bar, smiling at my friends, when a strong hand grabs my arm and nearly yanks me across the bar.
“What the hell!” I shout as I narrowly catch myself before I smash my face off the sticky bar.
“I said I need another!” a very drunk twenty-something-year-old yells at me as he sways back and forth on his feet. I try yanking my arm free from his grasp, but this kid has a death grip on me.
“Let go!” I yell, as I try to peel his fingers off my rapidly bruising arm.
“I’m a paying customer, and you’re the bitch who serves me.
I said get me another before I—” Whatever he was about to say is cut off when a behemoth of a man grabs the kid by his collar and practically throws him across the room, knocking over many of his buddies on his way to the floor.
The kid scrambles to his feet, ready to fight until he notices the man walking towards him.
“Hey, man, I mean no trouble,” he whimpers as he raises his hands in front of him defensively.
“You fucked up the moment you decided to touch her, as if she was your personal fucking servant.” The sound of a fist cracking against bone fills the already loud room as blood begins to spew from the kid’s mouth. Fuck, that was a good punch.
“Pick up your friend and get the fuck out of here, all of you!” I watch as the group of college kids scurry their way down the stairs and out of the club.
Serves them right. Rubbing my arm that’s now styling a purplish bruise, I watch as the man approaches the bar.
Saxon Wilder. The leader of the Kings’ Aces, and the man who’s recently decided I need his protection, or rather, babysitting.
“You alright?” he asks from across the bar.
I nod and make my way to the end of the counter as he follows.
I’ve known he’s been watching me since the moment he realized who I was.
The first day I met him, matter of fact.
At first, he was like all the other men in this world, eyeing me up and down as if I’m their own personal snack.
That was until he saw the brand behind my ear.
I can’t say I’d ever tried to hide it. In fact, I wanted him to see who I was.
I figured if he knew who my father was, he’d “keep a watchful eye on me.” And he has.
My father is just as much my enemy as he is Saxon’s, and if Saxon knows who my father is, he will be on the lookout for the fucking Hellstorms every minute of every day.
A security measure for myself. However, I didn’t realize just how much this man would enter my orbit.
With my extracurricular activities, I fear some day he’ll catch on to me.
He’s everywhere. I can feel him. The way his eyes burn against my skin is like the sun beaming on you for far too long.
Even now, I can feel his presence despite not looking at him.
The girls, who watched the whole scene unfold, grab me and cautiously examine my arm as if I’d been shot.
“Shit, Sky, are you okay? The fuck was that guy thinking?!” Sage says as her brother appears beside me.
“He got what he deserved, though. Am I right, Sax!” Ophelia, who I’ve come to realize is Sage’s closest friend, slaps Saxon on the shoulder as she flashes her infectious smile at him. He shrugs her off, their relationship reminding me of an annoying younger sister and a grumpy older brother.
“Yeah, I could have handled it myself, but thanks anyway,” I say to Saxon, who stares at me with his usual brooding expression.
He’s hovering, fishing for something to say as he rolls his eyes at me.
This is Saxon’s constant state since he learned who I was, always stalking me.
Making me aware of his presence by being my constant shadow.
It’s like that annoying guy friend who always wants to be your guardian but just turns out to be insanely smothering.
That’s what this is between us: playground admirers.
Because, let’s face it, Saxon is stupidly gorgeous, and, well, he’s always staring at me, causing that tingle that prickles my skin whenever his eyes are on me.
I’m curious about how we appear from the outside looking in.
Do we give off that vibe that says, “We love to hate each other?” The amount of times this man comes to this club when I’m working is a clear sign that he’s watching me.
But I’m unsure whether he’s watching out of interest or watching to see if I slip up and prove I’m the person he thinks I am.
A spy, a snitch, the enemy on a mission to destroy his club.
“I never said you couldn’t handle it yourself. I needed to release some tension and took the opportunity. So don’t flatter yourself by thinking I’m here to be your personal bodyguard.”
“Thank fuck, you’ve been such a downer the past couple days,” Saint yells to him over the music, which wins him a punch to the chest. Saint is Saxon’s best friend who I’ve noticed has eyes for Sage.
But that’s none of my business. I’m a bartender and tend to notice the small things about people that they’d rather keep under wraps.
Plus, I’m not so sure Saxon will approve of his baby sister sleeping with his best friend. If that’s even what they’re doing.
“What the fuck, man?” Saint whines, but his big ass can handle a punch or two. The pair of them are equally built and tall as shit. However, Saxon is an inch or two shorter than Saint. Still doesn’t make him any less tall compared to me—I still have to look up to speak to him.
“You sure you’re okay?” Sage asks me, her soft voice bringing me back to the girls.
“Yeah, I’m good. How are you girls?”
“Good! School is starting, as you know, and we wanted the summer to go out with a bang.”
“I get that.” I smile at them before I turn and see Driesell drawing in customers.
“I have to go, but you girls have fun!” We say our goodbyes, and I watch as they head to the dance floor together. A small part of me envies their carefree attitudes and free spirits. As I turn to head back behind the bar, Saxon stands in front of me, blocking me from returning to work.
“Saxon, I don’t have time for this. I need to get back to work,” I say to him, my voice low enough for only him to hear.
“A man by the name of Damien Devonte mean anything to you?” I lift my chin up and meet his dark eyes; they’re so dark they look black sometimes, especially in the club where the lights are dimmed.
“I can’t do this right now, Sax.”
“Just answer the question.”
I ponder the name. Yes, I know who it is, and no, I’m not on good terms with him. The disgusting filth of a man should have been my next victim. Thanks, Diego, for fucking up my plans.
“I’m going to assume you have some information for me.” His deep voice fills my head when he leans in closer to me to whisper. “We’ll talk at closing time.” His warm breath fans across my cheek, and the smell of bourbon and mint fills my nostrils.
He then opens the bar top door for me and ushers me to get back to work. I knew this was coming, but my plans for Damien will not be ruined. Especially not by Saxon Wilder.