CHAPTER 1
Nirah
Three Years Later
ESCAPE. RUN. HIDE. Get caught.
It’s like a broken record on repeat in an old abandoned house, where no one is there to turn it off. The house still stands, the lights are on and all else works, except… no one’s home.
No one has been home in a long, long time.
Loud cheering, music blasting, the scent of alcohol and rich perfume—it was time.
The beat dropped, and my body clung to the pole in sensual desperation. I spun, locking my thighs around the pole as I tossed my head back, leisurely moving my arms and hands.
The low, red, and purple lights accented the room perfectly.
Casa del Pecado was home to the rich and powerful. The men so wealthy you could transfer thousands out of their bank accounts, and they wouldn’t even notice.
The cold, metal pole burned with my body heat as I used everything inside of me to entice the crowd, luring them to the tip rail.
The regulars were easy to spot. All of them lined the tip rail, tossing bills at me, and my eyes glistened in the dim stage lights.
I trailed my eyes around the club. Our beautiful bartenders, aroused men and my personal favorite, the hundred dollar bills piling below me.
After performing my routine to lustful perfection, I lowered myself down onto my red, eight inch heels.
My sensual gaze locked with one of my regulars as I took slow, deliberate steps towards him. I dragged my hands down my chest, dipping past my stomach, and stopped between my thighs, reaching the edge of the stage.
I tossed my head to the left, allowing my layered hair to pile on my shoulder as I batted my eyelashes at him.
With a deep, uncontrollable grin, he slipped some bills into the strap of my panties. “Just take it,” he pathetically insisted, staring up at me with need .
I shot him a wink, making my way back as I dragged my hands over the curve of my ass. I wrapped my hand around the pole again, sending the men a seductive finger wave.
“Woo!” Giovanni cheered over the booming music as he cupped his hands on the side of his mouth. “Looking great, baby!”
I chuckled, blowing him a kiss before disappearing off stage to catch my breath.
“What the fuck was that?” Silvia half chuckled as she charged toward me in her usual skimpy dress.
With her jaw practically on the floor, the light bounced off the little metallic ball on her tongue. Using an insane amount of strength, she swung her arms around my body—engulfing me in a hug. “Did you pull that out of your fucking ass?” she beamed, tucking her raven colored bob behind her ears.
“Nirah Joy!” Marco—the club owner—grinned as he approached me with open arms. “You’re a million dollars, kid,” he reminded me as his arms too, swung around me. He smelled of cologne, cigarette smoke with a hint of mint.
I couldn’t contain my smile as we broke the hug. “Thanks, Marco.”
Marco has been running this place for almost a decade.
He was pushing fifty, but the beard, graying hair and wrinkles around his eyes, did not stop the girls from flaunting themselves at him.
He reminds us about it on a daily basis, but when Silvia and I burst his bubble, saying it’s their daddy issues, he counters with, it’s my striking charm and baby blue eyes. I know he’s not wrong.
“So, when are you going to give my man Giovanni a chance?” he whispered, slinging a muscular arm around my shoulder, and I looked up to see his pearly white teeth grinning down at me.
“Giovanni? As in thirty year old Giovanni?” I mused as he and I headed to my dressing room, brushing shoulders with a couple of people here and there.
“Oh, come on, baby. He doesn’t even look thirty.”
That might be true, and I appreciated him being a wingman, but unfortunately, it was not happening. “Nice try.”
I slipped into my dressing room, walking backward, and Marco nodded, admitting defeat in the doorway. He turned to leave but spun back on his heels. “By the way, a guy by the name of Sylvester Toronto was outside looking for you. Ring a bell?”
My heart sunk to my feet as fear knocked the wind out of my lungs. I swallowed hard, shaking my head. No .
Marco contemplated asking questions but decided against it and smiled. “Well, I don’t like the looks of him, so if you do head out, find Jamie. Or me.”
“Thanks, Marco,” I sang, and he winked in response before leaving, and I shut my dressing room door.
My knees grew weak as I pressed my back against the door. I lied. I do know that name. I despised the fact that I knew that name. My stomach twisted, and a fuck-me-in-the-ass sized lump of fear balled in my throat.
With my heart and mind both racing a million miles per hour, I gathered all my belongings with trembling hands. I needed to get home. Fast .
I slipped into my black, leather trench coat before staring at myself in the mirror.
Long, dark eyelashes, puckered red lips with a hint of pink on my cheeks. My long, layered hair fell down my back in soft curls.
My eyes swelled with tears, but I fought against it, blinking them away. I inhaled slowly. Deep breaths, Nirah. You’re okay—you’re going to be okay.
With a sharp exhale, I grabbed my things and left my dressing room, making my way through the crowd. I greeted some coworkers on my way out, and when I hit the sidewalk, a chilly breeze brushed against my face.
We reached the end of summer, and fall was slowly rolling in. The short dresses, cocktails, and late nights at the club—I was going to miss it.
I noticed there were only two men in sight.
One beside me with his cellphone held to his ear as he spoke, and one across the entrance, leaning against his car with a cigar pressed between his lips as he inhaled. I didn’t miss the light bouncing off his shiny, expensive looking wristwatch.
Thankfully, they both seemed occupied, so I slipped right past them. Or, I tried to.
“Nirah Joy?”
I sucked in a quick breath as a huge hand wrapped around my wrist with enough force to stop me in my tracks. The man on the cell phone. I yanked my wrist from his grip, taking a step back.
“And you are?” I shot back. His face was barely noticeable, but I recognized the way he said my name. Sylvester Toronto.
He pulled his black baseball cap off, and his icy blue eyes pierced through the darkness. He had about five inches on me, his dark hair was buzzed, and he wore black clothing from head to toe.
“The look in your eyes tells me, you remember me vividly,” he grinned, making me swallow the anxiety lumped in my throat. Shit . I hadn’t seen him in months, so naturally, I took that as a sign that he had gotten what he wanted. Clearly, I was wrong.
“No. I don’t,” I lied before turning around and walking away with my heels clicking on the hard concrete.
“The name Nereus Juan Valentino ring a bell?” he called out from behind me, his voice laced with malicious amusement, and I stopped dead in my tracks.
My stomach dropped, and my heart rate increased at the mere mention of Nereus.
I simply shook my head—without looking back—and he huffed.
“I doubt after three years you’ve already forgotten about your twin brother.
Although, I don’t think after a million years you could forget your other half. ” Nereus…
I fought back every single emotion before turning around to face him with false courage.
“I’m an only child, so you’ve got me confused with someone else.” God, I wish it were that simple. I wished on anything and everything that it was the truth.
“Is that what you tell yourself?” he taunted, stepping closer. “Does it help to keep all the memories, the trauma, and the hurt suppressed?” he questioned, and I squeezed my fingers into a fist, holding my arms at my sides to keep them from trembling. Fuck him, and fuck this.
I turned but with a rough, forceful hand, he grabbed my arm. “Don’t turn your back on me, Nirah.”
I failed horribly to pull my arm from his grip—his hold on me was too strong. “I didn’t know feds were allowed to dish out threats,” I scoffed in annoyance and pure anger. Using my free hand, I dug my nails into his forearm but he only groaned in pain and grabbed onto that arm as well.
“Oh, princess … it’s not a threat. It’s a warning,” he smirked, tugging me toward him.
A chill raced down my spine as his godawful cologne drifted into my nose.
The scent settled in my core, igniting painful memories.
I forced a steady breath, looking up into his eyes.
“Now, tell me where your little Nereus is, and we can all go home.”
“I said…” I began, yanking my arm harder, and my wrist burned as I got loose from him. “I’m an only child.” I heavily exhaled, using my other hand to gently rub my bruised wrist.
“Oh, Nirah,” he bitterly chuckled, stepping closer, and I slowly backed up. “Don’t make this harder than it already is,” he shook his head, and I took one big step back, but he beat me to it and grabbed my neck. “I won’t ask you again. Where—is—Nereus?”
He forced me up against the concrete wall within seconds.
My hand flew up to his forearm, while the other slid down to the knife strapped to my thigh. “I don’t fucking know,” I seethed, making his jaw clench. He doesn’t believe me.
“Hey, Toronto.”
Our heads snapped to the man that had been smoking when I walked out. Clearly annoyed and pissed off, Sylvester let out a huff, squeezing my throat a little harder.
“Tell that little punk to turn himself in, or you’ll just have to pay the price for him.”
He let go and I coughed, catching my breath and lifted my hands to my neck.
“I didn’t know harassing women is part of your new Friday night ventures,” the stranger casually shrugged his shoulders, stopping in front of Sylvester with his hands in the pockets of his slacks.
Sylvester scoffed, shaking his head. “De Luca. It’s never a pleasure,” he sighed, standing tall in front of the stranger.
I took a second to take in his appearance. Lean, about 6’3, tattoos, dressed in a suit—which didn’t have a single wrinkle, might I add. His black hair was fairly short on the sides and back but wavy on top. I took a second to steal a glimpse of his ass and man oh man, it did not disappoint.
The stranger’s eyes darted to me, and I automatically straightened up my posture, clearing my throat. He totally caught me checking out his ass. Dammit Nirah.
“I’ll give you lovebirds some privacy,” I blurted out, but before I could walk Sylvester grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks. The stranger pulled Sylvester’s hand off of me and stepped between us.
“ We have some business to attend to, don’t we?” the stranger rhetorically asked, and now, I was completely hidden behind him. His back looked so firm and muscular. I wanted to bite it.
“I’m sure those matters can wait till dawn, until then…” Sylvester grinned, stepping closer to the stranger. “I have a little whore to take care of.”
I pulled out the knife strapped to my thigh, flipping it open. “Like I said,” I began, pushing past the stranger but he wrapped an arm around my waist, lifting me off the ground. “What the fuck—” I groaned, dangling a few inches from the ground.
“You can kill him after, I’ve had a word with him,” the stranger said—his lips too close to my ear.
“Tsk, tsk, pulling a weapon out on an officer?” Sylvester rhetorically asked. “Maybe I should just take you in right now.”
Bile crawled up my throat as my stomach churned.
He made me sick. “Try me,” I said, trying to wiggle out of the annoyingly strong stranger’s arms but I had no luck whatsoever.
“You’re not really helping you know,” I said to the stranger who simply stared at me like I had two heads.
“What?” I whispered to him, seeing his brows draw awfully close together.
He simply redirected his attention back to Sylvester. “I guess I’ll see you at dawn.”
“I’ll wait my turn,” Sylvester grinned at him. “Just make sure she’s not too hurt in the morning for me,” he blew me a kiss and I shuddered in disgust.
A nauseating feeling grew in my core while Sylvester got into his car before driving off at a high speed. I elbowed the stranger in his hard chest and he let me go. I dropped to the floor, landing on my feet, the sound echoing into the silent night.
Ignoring him entirely, I brushed past him as I continued on my way. I happened to catch his scent as it lightly drifted into my nose and fuck me, all I could think about was suffocating myself in it.
“No ‘ thank you ’?” he asked from behind me and I heard his lighter flick open.
I continued on my way. “Didn’t ask for your help,” I replied, leaving him in the dark night. Men .
I eventually got home and made sure to lock the front door behind myself.
The place reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Lights coming from the living room flickered in my eyes as I slowly stepped closer. I let out a sad, exhausted breath, seeing my dad passed out on the sofa. Again, daddy?
The floor, tables and sofas were covered in beer bottles. He had one clutched to his chest while a burnt-out cigarette hung from his fingers.
I headed up to my bedroom and changed into some sweatpants and a t-shirt. Thereafter, I made my way back downstairs to clean up the mess he had made. He slept through all of it, so I covered him with a blanket and turned off the TV.
I walked straight past the kitchen—having lost my appetite—and closed my bedroom door before hopping into the shower and getting dressed.
I plopped down onto my bed and stared up at the ceiling.
He always promises that he’s better. That the alcohol doesn’t control him anymore. He always promises that things will go back to the way it was. That he and I will be happy and carefree. He always makes promises he can’t keep.
He’s been an alcoholic for years. Ever since my mom left us, he hasn’t been himself. He hasn’t been able to go on with life either. But every time, just as I think he’s getting better, something happens and he relapses… leaving me to pick up the pieces and take care of him.
Every—single—time.