Chapter 17 Ember
EMBER
Being with Roman is about as close to being on drugs that I think I’ll ever be. Then again, maybe it’s better because I’ve always been told that it’s never as good as the first time. But with him, it just seems to be getting better and better.
And it’s not just the sex. The way he treats me when we’re together, whether it’s in public or private, it’s like he’s dedicated himself to me. When I speak, I have his attention. More importantly, if I speak at work, he makes damn sure I’m heard.
Is this what it feels like to have someone show up for you?
It’s only been three weeks. That’s no time in terms of a relationship or to build any kind of serious bond with someone.
And yet, when he looks at me—even if it happens to be while I’m at work—I feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
It’s insane to think about the fact that I could be standing right by the stage while women in G-strings twerk against a pole and he still only has eyes for me.
But the real headscratcher? I think it’s starting to happen both ways. Lots of good-looking men come into the club and plenty of them try to flirt with me. Before, I might give them a second glance if they’re particularly handsome. Now… it’s like they’re not even there.
I’m standing by the bar, waiting for the bartender. He’s in the middle of serving about seven mixed drinks for a party of men in the far corner. When he’s done with that, he’s got to take a break. I’ve been trying to make a point of reminding him every night he works since he tends to forget.
But while I wait for him, I find myself looking over my shoulder at the mirror in the sky looking down at me. I know Roman’s watching. Sometimes, I can feel his eyes on the back of my neck like a warm kiss.
I want this to be real. I want that so bad I can taste it.
I hate that in the end, it can’t be. Eventually, Rastelli’s going to call on me again and I’ll have to decide once and for all which side of the line I’m really on. The problem is that now, I’m not so sure anymore.
The last drink is put on the tray and the waitress walks off with it. The bartender looks up at me and I nod, mouthing Take your break at him. He nods and nudges his partner, letting him know that he’s going on break.
From there, I start to walk back to my office. I only get about halfway across the room when Natasha stops me. The bruises on her face and neck have faded significantly. Through her makeup, you can barely even tell she was ever injured.
“Hey, listen, we might have a little problem,” she says quickly.
Ugh. I hate hearing those words. “I’ll let Junie know. Point the guy out to me.”
“It’s not that.” She glances behind and above me, to Roman’s office. “It’s something else.”
“What’s going on?”
She sighs and leans into me. “Just follow me to the VIP room. Act casual.”
She turns and walks away. I watch her for a few seconds, confused, but interested. Casually, I walk after her, pausing to check in with tables as I go to make it look good.
The VIP room is busy tonight. Every table I pass has at least one client with a dancer gyrating on their laps. It’s the weekend, though. We usually do pretty well on nights like this.
Natasha is standing at the entrance to the next hallway where the biggest VIP room is. It’s a spot that we usually reserve for any celebrity guests who might come through. I walk up to her and ask, “What’s going on?”
She looks over my shoulder as if to check to see if anyone’s following, then takes my hand and says, “Come on.”
We round the corner and we’re standing at the archway for the bigger VIP room. There are about five people sitting on the couches, drinking and throwing dollars at two of the dancers. The girls are doing their jobs, flirting and serving shots before their lap dances.
Among the customers, there are three guys and two girls… And I know one of those girls.
There’s no mistaking her mane of curly red hair and big, innocent, puppy-dog eyes. It’s Sasha. Oh, no.
Natasha pulls me back and whispers, “I didn’t want to sic security on them, because they’re just kids, right? If Mr. Orlov or any of their guys finds out—”
“Thanks, Natasha. Go back out onto the floor. I’ve got this.”
She leaves and I walk into view. No one notices me at first, so I clear my throat. The girls are in the middle of smiling and joking when they look up and see me. Sasha’s face drops like a rock in the ocean the moment she sees me.
“Excuse me,” I say to the room. The dancers both look back and see me and freeze, knowing something must be up. “Sorry to do this, but would you all mind showing me some ID?”
The three guys exchange slightly panicked glances between one another. The dancers, both sensing trouble, get up slowly and move to the side, out of the line of fire.
“S–Sure,” the large, blond one says, reaching for his wallet.
Just judging from his barrel chest and oversized arms, he strikes me as the ringleader of this gang of teens.
He smiles casually, winking at his closest friend who just stares, his face slate.
Everyone else looks terrified, in fact. They don’t really move until Big Blond urges them on with a jerk of his head.
Everyone takes out their IDs and presents them to me. I look at them one by one, stopping at Sasha’s. When I glance up at her, she looks down shamefully at her hands.
“Gotta admit,” I say. “These are pretty good. You guys been here before?”
More panicked glances. Big Blond clears his throat and says, “Yeah, we love this place. I was here last month for my coworker’s bachelor party—”
“I sincerely hope that’s not true,” I say cutting him off. “You five can’t be more than sixteen years old between you.”
Three out of the five go white as sheets. Sasha’s still looking at the floor. Big Blond goes, “Excuse me, but we’re all over twenty-one. I don’t like the implication that our IDs are fake—”
“So, if it’s true that you have actually been here before,” I talk over him, asserting my authority, “then in the very least, I have to believe that you had a good enough time to come back. Do you know what happens if we get raided and you little shits are caught back here? This club goes away. You don’t get to pull this scam again at your favorite club, and these young women have worked too hard tonight for you dumbasses to come in here and blow it for them. ”
I glance over at the dancers. I don’t have to tell them to leave. They both move in unison and make their way past me through the archway, grabbing the parts of their skimpy outfits that they’ve already taken off as they go.
“Okay,” I say to the teens. “Everybody out. Now.”
“Wait a second—” Big Blond starts.
“Don’t make me call security, okay? Or worse, your parents.” I glance over at Sasha, especially. Her already pale face goes paper white.
“It–It’s okay,” Sasha says, standing up. “We’ll go. Come on, guys.”
They all start to file out. I grab Sasha by her arm. “Not you. The rest of you get moving. You can meet your friend in the parking lot.”
They all look a little confused but leave just the same. I turn to Sasha.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her. “Do you have any idea what your father will do if he catches you?”
“I didn’t want to come,” she says, her voice high with defensiveness. “We were all hanging out and Joey starts talking about hitting the strip clubs. He said he had some fake IDs that looked real and, and he did it all the time. It’d be easy, he said.”
Jesus. I’ll need to talk to Junie about this. Who the hell knows how long “Joey” and his buddies have been doing this?
“I didn’t know we’d be coming here,” Sasha goes on. “I couldn’t say anything because then they’d think I was weak. I just got to hang out with these guys, Ms. Lorenzo. I don’t want them to think I’m not cool.”
I sigh and shake my head. I remember being a teenager and being at the whim of my friends when they wanted to get into something.
My father was always on my ass about that sort of thing, but he never did anything more than ground me.
I never had to fear any serious explosions from him.
I don’t know what Roman’s going to do when he finds this out.
“Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen,” I tell her.
“I don’t know how you got back here without your father seeing you, but I don’t think you’re going to get that lucky again.
That being said, you’re going out the back way with me.
You’re going to meet up with your friends in the parking lot and you’re going to ask them to take you home.
When you get there, you will text your father and let him know you’re okay. ”
Her eyes get large. “You’re not going to tell him, are you?”
“Whether I tell him anything is largely going to depend on how fast you move your behind. Come on.”
I take her arm and we start moving toward the emergency exit on the other side of the hall. My mind is racing about as fast as my heart. Being the teenage daughter of a Bratva boss has got to be the riskiest thing in the world.
We get outside and only get a few steps from the door before I hear the all too familiar bass tone of Roman’s voice, bellowing behind us.
“Sasha! Stop!”
We both freeze. Sasha looks at me fearfully, then we both turn around.
He’s standing in the doorway, his arm holding the door open. His eyes are dark with rage as he glares at us. “What. The. Fuck?”
“Dad—”
He storms toward us, his nostrils flared. He’s locked onto Sasha like a shark. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
Instinctively, I step in front of Sasha, blocking his path. “Roman, calm down. She just made a mistake—”
“A mistake?” He throws me a dangerous glare. “A mistake is a dent in the car. This is light years away from a fucking mistake.”
“I didn’t want to come!” Sasha says from behind me. “My friends—”
Roman points his finger over my head and directly at her. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Alexandra Marie. You are fifteen years old. You do not belong in a fucking strip club!”
“Hey, cool it!” I shout over Roman. “She is just a kid. She did a stupid kid thing—”
He steps back, looking me over as though he doesn’t recognize me. “What the hell are you even doing here? Stay out of this.”
“No,” I say, digging my heels in. “Not until you calm down enough to have a rational conversation.”
He takes a step back, then gives me a bitter smirk. “Get back in the club, Ember.”
“Roman—”
“Get back in the fucking club and stay the fuck out of this,” he growls. “This is my daughter. I’ve raised her for the last fifteen years without your help, and I don’t need it now. Leave.”
The sting in his words rings in my ears as I stare up at him. I want to slap him or cry or kick him in the balls for that.
I feel Sasha’s hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay,” she says. “I’ll be fine.”
I look back at her. She’s scared. I can see it in her eyes.
But it’s not the kind of scared I’ve seen before when Roman is angry.
It’s not the same scared that Natasha was when she was afraid of Carter coming after her.
And it’s certainly not the same as the look in Carter’s eyes when he was tied to that chair.
This is just a kid who is in hot water with her father. I should step aside.
I glare at Roman and say through clenched teeth, “You take it easy before you do something you’ll regret.” With that, I walk back through the back door of the club.
Dammit. Why did he have to be so cruel? The familiar thick feeling of a sob hangs in my throat. I swallow it down and straighten my stance. The night’s not even half over yet.
My phone buzzes before I can take a step. Rastelli’s text. Three o’clock in two days’ time, and the name of the diner.
Great. That’s just fucking great.