Devil’s Candy (Devils of New York)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Candy

I tap my glass as I make eye contact with the bartender.

My drink is nearing the bottom, and I have no intention of running dry tonight.

He grimaces as he looks down at the drink he’s making. I’m sober enough to know that he’s judging me for ordering a fourth Slippery Nipple.

But I’m drunk enough that I don’t care.

“Need some help, beautiful?” a man to my right asks. I don’t look over, staring at the bartender instead. I think I checked out the guy who is now attempting to flirt forty-five minutes ago, and he’s not the type to hold my interest.

Then again, maybe that means I should give him a chance. The men who usually spark my fancy are toxic.

Like nearly-kill-me toxic.

“You got a cure for cheating motherfuckers?” I say as I flip my orange hair over my shoulder.

I was wearing a brown wig earlier. This is my boss’s wedding reception, and I was going for demure. Trying to blend in with the rest of the guests. Angel, my boss, is marrying into a family like the Kennedys. The guest list was high end, so I was trying not to stick out like an orange thumb.

Not that I’ve ever been great at that. But today, for once, I didn’t want to bring attention to myself.

That was until my world crashed in. The guy who I thought might be the love of my life…

He was, unbeknownst to me, also a guest at the wedding. And he was there for another woman. Yeah. It sucked.

And since I was a kid, my pain response is to get loud with my choices.

“As a matter of fact…” the guys says. And that’s when the deep timbre of his voice penetrates the fog over my brain.

I blink, turning toward him, my eyes focusing as they collide with the blue-gray depths of his, and then I audibly gasp. I know…smooth.

But he’s just so much…

In a good way. Even folded onto the backed bar stool next to me, I can tell he’s tall, and don’t even get me started on the muscles.

He’s got the sexiest tattoos peeking out from under his T-shirt and up his neck.

His square jaw flexes, the strong cords of his neck moving with it, as his eyes hold mine.

His dark hair is salted with gray, but it only makes him sexier.

“As a matter of fact, what?”

“I might know the cure for a cheating motherfucker.” That’s when I pick up the accent. Eastern bloc, maybe Russian.

I lean closer, abandoning the drink I was nursing and grab my water glass instead. I want to be fully present for this conversation. Things are about to get interesting. “What’s that?”

One corner of his mouth turns up, an eyebrow quirking. “You really want to know?”

“I do,” I answer, my breath catching in my lungs, because this guy is…thrilling. I mean, like panty-melting exciting.

He chuckles. “There is only one thing to do with a guy like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Kill him,” he says with a shrug as he leans back in his chair.

My mouth drops open for a second because, one, I thought he was going to make a completely different kind of offer, and two…for whatever reason, the thought of ending Vinnie Morelli Junior makes me feel loads better.

I burst out with a laugh. “Now that is a satisfying thought.”

He chuckles too. “It is, isn’t it?”

I pick up my water glass, taking a sip, before I eye him over the rim. “My name is Candy, by the way.”

“Sver,” he answers, extending his hand. When I slide my fingers into his palm, a shiver runs through me. His eyes run over me as he holds my hand in his. “I like your name, Candy, and I love your hair.”

I feel a blush climbing up my cheeks. Which is crazy because I don’t blush ever. I work in a whorehouse, so you name it, I’ve seen it.

To be clear, I’m not a whore and I don’t sell myself, ever. I’d rather starve. Not that I’m judging the other girls. Everyone survives the best they can, and they all create their own code, but mine includes not trading sex for money.

I’m an esthetician. I help get the girls ready for their dates and then I put them back together when they’re done.

It’s not the most glamorous job, but it pays the bills and it keeps me safe. A very important detail.

Two years ago, in a move that is so typically me, I started seeing this guy named Marco who I thought was sexy, hot, exciting. Coked out of his mind, he took me to a drug deal that went wrong and I watched as he killed a man. But now I’m a witness and he decided that makes me a liability.

My boss, Angel, agreed to house and feed me, which keeps me hidden, in exchange for my professional services.

I stay off the streets, stay safe, and keep out of trouble.

The thing about working in a whorehouse is that a girl already knows the guys are sleazebags, so it’s easy not to be tempted to make a bad choice.

Except for Vinnie.

He came in a few months ago, a bachelor party I think, and scoped me out in the shadows. Didn’t even look at the other girls. He came and sat down next to me and we talked for hours. I thought he was different.

“So tell me about this guy. The one we’re killing,” Sver says, his fingers starting to skim up the inside of my forearm.

The blush deepens. “It’s a story that’s so deep, I don’t even know where to start,” I say with a shrug as I look away. This guy is overwhelming my senses and honestly, I need a second to breathe.

“Try me.”

I blow out a breath as somewhere in the background a slot machine sings out its winner’s song.

A group of us flew to Vegas this afternoon specifically for my boss to get married. My boss and I aren’t close, but his bride and I just clicked, and she wanted me to be here.

I haven’t had a female friend in a while, and Promise is seriously the sweetest soul I’ve met in a long time. She looks like the perfect socialite, but underneath her blonde hair and blue eyes is the kind of person I can understand.

“Well, I guess a good starting point would be that my boss decided to participate in an arranged marriage.” I fiddle with my glass, trying to order my thoughts. He gives my arm a light squeeze and I swing my gaze back to him.

Sver tilts his head toward his shoulder, seeming nonplussed by my first admission. “Not as uncommon as people think.”

That makes me smile, at least for a second, before my mouth turns down again. “But when he showed up for his wedding, his father-in-law had decided that Angel was no longer a suitable groom. And he’d picked…” This is where it gets sticky.

Sver’s eyebrows lift. “Your guy?”

“Yeah.” Vinnie Morelli was trouble and I knew it.

Or I should have known it. Even though he zeroed in on me that first night, he also asked a lot of questions about Angel every time we were together.

But he could also be really sweet, and he’d made me several promises about helping me with the dirtbag who’d sent me into hiding in the first place.

I thought we were getting serious.

“So your boss decided to come to Vegas and get married here instead.”

“Yeah.” I let out a long slow breath. “Somewhere along the way, even though their marriage was arranged, Angel and Promise chose each other.”

“Vegas is the place for a quick marriage. But he must be pretty powerful to have a reception room like the one behind us on such short notice.” Sver’s thumb is dancing circles in the crook of my arm as he stares into my soul.

I stare back, trying to make my brain work. “I guess he’s friends with the owner of this casino, so it all came together last minute.”

His fingers wrap around my bicep, his grip light as his fingertips tickle the skin just below my armpit. “Angel must be a very valued friend to them.”

I shrug. “I suppose.” Because even I have the sense not to say more.

What Angel is attempting to accomplish with his partnership to the Smith brothers is nobody’s business but his.

On the plane, I heard plenty of details, but I’m not drunk enough to go spilling that kind of information, even to some random hot dude.

And he is so freakin’ hot. He’s turned up the temperature in my core. Even now, I can feel the heat radiating out of my cheeks…and between my legs.

He leans closer and I catch the scent of his cologne, rich and woodsy. “And you must be of such great value to him that he brought you here for his wedding.”

I give a light laugh as I look away. “You’re asking a lot of questions about my boss.”

Sver laughs too. “Sorry. I’m attempting to engage just how single you are.”

“Oh. It’s not like that. We’re just coworkers.” Angel and I have a fair exchange. I provide high-quality work, he keeps me safe.

He’s a ruthless businessman, which means he doesn’t pay me much, but he also never asks for more than our original bargain, which I really appreciate. In a world full of shitty men, he’s honest and fair. “I’m here by the bride’s request. I did her hair and makeup.”

His eyes light up as he continues stroking my skin. “Ah. I see.” And then he leans closer, whispering in my ear. “I’ve thought of another way you can get your revenge on your cheating ex.”

This time, my cheeks light on fire, because I know what’s coming, and honestly, I’m ready for it.

Is this another shit decision on my part? Probably. Do I care in this moment? Nope. Not a bit.

Because getting laid sounds way better than getting drunk.

Which is why I lean back to look him in the eye again. Drawing in a slow breath, I tilt my head to the side. “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, there is only one question left.”

“What’s that?” He gives me a slow, sexy grin.

“My room or yours?”