CHAPTER 1-EIGHT YEARS LATER
Sierra
“Bottoms up, babe!” Esme roars over the deafening noise of the club. “It’s time to get officially drunk for the first time.”
“It feels good to be legal now.” No more fake ID’s for me. Yay! Quickly licking the salt off my hand, I knock back the tequila shot, grimacing as it burns sliding down my throat.
“Now we’re all twenty-one,” Penelope confirms, shuddering as she drains her shot. “And the world is definitely our oyster.”
I’m the last of my friends to celebrate this milestone, so we decided to celebrate in style. Hence why we are currently in one of the top nightclubs in Sin City, groomed to within an inch of our lives, and ready to party with a capital P.
“Says the girl who is already engaged,” Esme replies, arching one elegant brow as she tosses her long wavy locks over one shoulder.
“What the hell has that got to do with it?” Penelope asks, narrowing her warm brown eyes at Esme.
“Nope.” I shake my head, eyeballing them. “You two are not getting into it tonight. It’s my birthday, and we’re in Las Vegas, on a freebie, courtesy of my parents, and I’m deeming it an argument-free zone. No fighting on my birthday, capisce?” I wave my finger in their faces.
I love these girls to bits. They are more my sisters than Saskia and Serena, and they bicker as much as real sisters do. You couldn’t find two more different women, but we’ve all been close since middle school, and I can’t imagine my life without them in it. They have kept me from rocking in a corner when my family has driven me to the point of insanity.
“You just had to pull the birthday-girl card, huh?” Esme grins as she reaches over to grab the tray of cocktails from the waiter when he sets it down on our table. “Thanks,” she mouths, pinning the hottie with one of her trademark flirtatious grins.
Esme is drop-dead gorgeous with thick dark-red hair and striking green eyes that are even brighter than my emerald peepers, but it’s her winning personality that seduces every man who sets eyes on her. Esme is a woman who knows what she wants and goes for it. I like to think we share similar traits in that regard, but I’m less obvious when going after something I want.
“Fine. You win.” Penelope readily concedes because she’s not one to hold a grudge. With her big eyes, petite frame with voluptuous curves in all the right places, and her straight-talking attitude, Pen is no less of a catch than Esme. Leaning across the low black-and-red velvet couch, she kisses Esme on the cheek as she accepts a vodka cocktail from her. “Love you, babe.”
“Right back at ya.” Esme blows her a kiss before handing me a cosmopolitan. The other five girls in our party—a mix of friends from our hometown in Chicago and a couple of girls from college—snatch cocktails until the tray is empty.
We chat and laugh as we drain our drinks, and I’m nicely buzzed. Coming to Vegas was a genius idea, and I really owe Esme for organizing the entire trip. I know Pen helped out too, but she’s in the thick of wedding planning, and Esme didn’t want her stressing out so she did the bulk of the work. I would’ve helped, if I had been allowed, but the girls wanted the details kept a surprise until we arrived.
“Let’s dance,” Tammy says, tugging on my elbow as some of the girls stand, heading away from our table. We’re in a reserved section of the lower level of the club, and Esme has paid for the table so it is ours for the night.
“Come on.” I rise, lifting one shoulder, as I glance down at Pen and Esme. I’m not going dancing without my besties. The girls need little encouragement, polishing off their drinks before they follow us out of our section and into the main body of the large club.
The place is teeming with people. Although lighting is low, my eyes drink in the surroundings, admiring the attention to detail. I hope whoever designed this place got a nice fat bonus. They’ve gone with a fire theme, and the décor is a mix of different materials and colors, all in various shades of red, orange, black, and gold. Decadent crystal chandeliers hang over our heads, and it’s obvious no expense has been spared. Multicolored strobe lights stretch across the room from the dance floor, providing bursts of illumination as we make our way through the main room.
We weave a path through the crowd and out onto the large dance floor. Pulsing beats reverberate off the walls from the large DJ booth at the top of the room. It’s on an elevated platform, and a large screen projects illusory flames of fire across the dance floor at intermittent intervals. I grin as I stare up at the ceiling, joining my friends as we lift our arms, jumping in our heels as we try to touch the fiery projection.
We dance for a few songs, gathering some admirers, but there is no one who catches my eye enough to flirt with. I expand my search, scanning the other side of the dance floor for willing victims. “See anyone you like?” Esme inquires, noticing my perusal.
“Not so far, but the night is still young.” I waggle my brows, and she grins, looping her arm through mine. “Let’s go hunting. You definitely need to get laid. It’s practically a rite of passage.”
I roll my eyes, grabbing Pen’s arm as Esme tows me off the dance floor.
“What are we doing?” Penelope asks when Esme stops beside the bar. Shoving her way through to the front, Esme grabs one of the bartenders, shouting an order at him, completely oblivious to the daggers embedding in her back from other thirsty patrons.
“Hunting for prey.” I grin, scouting the guys hanging around the bar.
“I’ll come with,” Pen offers. “I know what you two are like if you are left to your own devices.”
“You can help vet them,” I agree because Pen has a great bullshit radar and she can sniff out an asshole from miles away.
“Don’t you ever feel like you’re missing out?” Esme rejoins us, handing out glasses filled with vodka cranberry.
“Esme.” I caution her with a look. “You promised.”
“I’m not stirring shit, I swear. I’m just curious.”
“Is your issue with Eric or that I’m engaged at twenty-one?” Penelope asks, and I’m guessing they’re having it out whether I lay down rules or not.
“It’s not Eric. I like him, a lot. He’s good to you,” Esme says.
“Then why do you keep busting my balls?” Pen asks in between slurping her drink.
“I just think you’re crazy getting tied down so young. I don’t want to see you making a mistake.”
I know this is coming from a good place, but I also know what’s driving Esme’s concern. “Pen isn’t your sister, and Eric isn’t that cheating asshole she married.”
Pen’s features soften. “I know you’re only worried for me, and I love you for that, but I know what I’m doing. I love Eric. He’s my soul mate, and I know there is no one else for me.”
“Verity thought doucheface was her soul mate too, and look how that ended up. Now she’s a struggling single mother with two small kids. He doesn’t even see them anymore. He’s too busy playing happy family with his new wife and baby son.”
“That sucks for Verity,” Pen says. “And that cockroach is the biggest slimeball to walk the planet, but just because that happened to her doesn’t mean it will happen to me.”
“I know I’m being irrational,” Esme replies, chewing on the corner of her lip. “But I couldn’t forgive myself if I kept my thoughts hidden and then something happened.”
“Nothing will happen,” I interject when I see the crestfallen look on Pen’s face.
The last thing I want is Esme planting doubts in her mind. I get where Esme is coming from, and I know it’s why she’s insistent on playing the field and not getting attached to any guy, but she can’t project her fears and insecurities onto others, because that’s just not fair. “Saskia married Felix when she was twenty-one, and Serena was twenty-three on her wedding day,” I remind her. “It’s not unheard of to marry young.”
“I’m not sure you should use either of your sisters as an example of matrimonial bliss,” Esme replies, flashing a grin at someone over my shoulder.
“You’re probably right.” I doubt Saskia would be happy no matter who she married, and Serena shocked the hell out of me by marrying one of my father’s oldest friends. She kept their relationship a secret from me, which still hurts, and we don’t have much contact these days so I have no clue if she’s happy in her marriage or not. All I know is she got knocked up pretty fast after the wedding and she dotes on my little niece Elisa.
“But neither of them were madly in love with their husbands,” I add, wanting to reassure Pen. I rub her arm and smile. “It’s clear you’re head over heels in love, and Eric is a great guy. He adores you and treats you like a princess. You two are so good together, and if it feels right, that’s all that matters. Do what your heart is telling you to do.”
“Do you really believe that, or are you just saying it to keep the peace?” Esme asks, looking genuinely curious.
“I really believe that.” I tuck a stray piece of my long blonde hair behind one ear before taking another mouthful of my drink.
“I wish I could.” The smile slips off Esme’s face, and a semi-tense silence descends.
“Hey, this is supposed to be a celebration, so no long faces.” Pen nudges both of us in our sides. “You never know, both your soul mates could be in this very room. We should mingle.”
Esme throws one arm around my shoulders and her other around Pen’s. “I’m more in the market for a devil mate,” she jokes. “But you can help.” A mischievous grin appears on her face. “I’ll just go after the ones you reject as unworthy.”
“Lord help us.” Pen shakes her head as I tap out a quick message to Tammy so the others know where we are. “One of these days, that attitude is going to get you in serious trouble.”
“As long as we’re there to bail Esme out, she’s good,” I say, slipping my cell into the small pocket of my black and gold dress.
We walk around with our drinks in our hands, scouting the talent, as we make a full circle of the room, checking out all the options. There is a mix of men here. Old. Young. Hot. Not so hot. A few groups of men whistle and holler as we stroll past, and we stop a couple times, indulging in mild flirtations before moving on. Maybe it’s my mood, but none of the cute guys we meet are doing it for me.
“Oh my God.” Esme slams to a halt, and I spill some of my fresh vodka cranberry on the hardwood floor. “Did you see him?”
“See who?” Pen and I ask in unison.
“Saverio Salerno.” She licks her lips, and her eyes become alive. I can almost see the wheels churning in her head as she plots and plans.
“Should I know who that is?” I’ve never heard of the dude. I follow her line of sight to the back of a tall guy, heading toward the VIP door at the side of the room. He’s wearing a black tailored suit that looks expensive, and his dark hair is cropped quite close to his head. His shoulders are broad, his arms straining the material of his suit jacket, so the guy is obviously ripped.
“He owns this place and a couple of casinos,” she supplies, lowering her voice an octave. “It’s rumored he’s part of the mob.”
Pen and I trade looks. Spotting the excitement on Esme’s face, I already know we’re screwed. “Please don’t tell me you’re interested in pursuing a man like that?”
“You know I love a bad boy and I thrive on a challenge.”
“We also know you are reckless with little regard for your personal safety,” Pen says, looking worried as she runs a hand through her quirky brown bob.
“You know I normally support your escapades,” I say, “but if the rumors are true, he doesn’t sound like the kind of man you should even look twice at, let alone sleep with.”
I have a rebellious streak in me too—just ask my father. I’m sure he has a long list of bad behavior he could mention—but I know where to draw the line, and this is it. I wet my dry lips, tossing my soft blonde curls over my shoulder, as I contemplate how to divert this train wreck. “We should go to another club,” I blurt. “Who knows when we might get to come to Vegas together again. We could go on a club crawl.”
Esme winks. “Nice try, but I’m not leaving until I at least say hello to the man.”
“This has bad idea written all over it,” Pen mutters, eyeing the man’s back with a wary expression. “I’d like to arrive home alive.” She drills Esme with a loaded look. “As in, not wearing a body bag.”
“My God, Pen. Chill out. You are totally overreacting.”
I’m not sure she is, but what harm could it do to say hi to the guy? I know how stubborn Esme is, and if we keep resisting, it will only make her more determined.
“Let’s say hi and then talk to the others and see if they want to stay or go?” I suggest.
“I can compromise with the best of them.” Esme grins. Pen mumbles under her breath, but she gives up fighting too. Esme smooths a hand down the front of her short green dress. “How do I look?”
“Stunning, like always,” I say.
“I’m not sure a man like that is after stunning,” she muses, keeping her eyes locked on him as he stops to converse with a small group of men about ten feet from the enclosed VIP area.
“He’s still a man, and they all think with their dicks.” I tug the front of my strapless dress up, checking that I’m not showing more than a socially acceptable level of cleavage. I smother a snort of hilarity. If my father could hear my thoughts now, he’d be proud.
“This is a terrible idea,” Pen mutters, looping her arm in mine as we follow Esme toward the man.
“We both know there’s no talking Esme out of something once she has made up her mind. We can’t let her approach him alone. If anything were to happen to her, we would never forgive ourselves.”
“I know.” Pen sighs. “I just worry about her. I’m all for sexual equality and exploring your options, but her penchant for fucking dangerous assholes could come back to bite her someday, and I don’t want to see her hurt. Especially not on your birthday night. I want you to look back on this night with fond memories.”
“And I will.” I pat her arm in reassurance, hoping I’m right.
Spiking Tony’s drink with sleeping pills might not have been the smartest play. If my father knew I was partying in Las Vegas without my bodyguard, he’d throw a hissy fit. He doesn’t understand how restrictive it is. How it gets old having Tony trail me wherever I go. One would think I’d be used to it by now, because I’ve had a bodyguard for as long as I can remember, but I hate the intrusion and the attention it draws.
Being the daughter of the billionaire owner of Lawson Pharma comes with its fair share of perks and drawbacks. Lack of privacy being one. I wanted to come to Las Vegas and party with my friends without Tony breathing down my neck or having him relay every minute detail to my father.
Sometimes, I just want to be normal. A normal girl, out celebrating her birthday with friends, doing all the mad crazy shit normal twenty-one-year-old women do. Is that so bad to want? Honestly, if a genie appeared and granted me a wish to live a normal life in exchange for giving up the money and the trappings of wealth that come with our lifestyle, I would do it in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t need to think about it. Not for a second.
I plan to get laid at some point during the trip, and Tony vetting any potential fuck buddies usually kills the mood and ends my fun.
Shove an NDA at a guy and see how fast he hightails it away.
It’s the main reason I’ve only had one serious boyfriend and only had sex with two men.
Father is controlling as fuck. It’s his form of OCD. One part of me understands it. His wealth and his notoriety draw all kinds of crazies, and he won’t take any chances with his family. My sisters and my mother have designated bodyguards too, and Father travels with an entourage of two or three bodyguards. But sometimes, it seems like overkill, and I wonder how much of it has to do with my safety and how much with him knowing every aspect of my life and manipulating me so he’s the one in control, not me.
He doesn’t understand why I’m not obedient like my sisters. Why I fight him on practically everything. He cannot grasp the concept I have my own plans, my own ambitions, and I want to forge my own path in life. I don’t want to work for the family business like Saskia and Serena, and he went apeshit when I refused to enroll in the same business program my sisters attended at UChicago. He threatened to disown me when I applied to study biomedical science with my sights set on alternative therapy as a chosen career, but Mom talked him into it.
“Earth to Sierra.” Pen clicks her fingers in my face. “You spaced out, girlfriend.”
“I did, but I’m back now.” We almost slam into Esme’s back as she stops unexpectedly. We are mere feet from the man, but he’s engrossed in conversation with a bunch of dudes in suits, and I don’t think barging our way in there will help Esme’s cause.
“That conversation looks pretty heated,” Esme says, keeping one eye on her target as she glances quickly at us.
“We should take that as our cue to leave.” Pen makes one final effort.
“I’m not wasting this opportunity.” A look of determination ghosts over Esme’s face. It’s a look I’m well-versed in. “I just have to time it carefully.”
“Let’s wait over there,” I suggest, pointing at an empty high table just behind the men. “That way, he can’t leave without us seeing.”
“Good idea.” She bobs her head vigorously, leading me around the men. Of course, she makes sure to stare at them as we pass, because subtlety and Esme do not go hand in hand. I look straight ahead, not wanting any of them to think I have any interest. From the brief glimpses I’ve seen, they are all way older, like my father’s age, and the thought of any of them touching me makes my skin crawl. Esme has a thing for older guys, but they are not usually that old.
Esme slides onto one of the stools, strategically choosing the one which faces the men, while Pen and I claim the other two seats, happy to have our backs to them. We put our drinks down, talking in hushed tones for a few minutes, while Esme pointedly stares at the guy she has set her sights on.
“You’re being obvious,” Pen says.
“That’s the point,” I reply before Esme can.
“Exactly.” Esme grins. “He’s locked eyes with me a couple times, so it’s working.” She drinks noisily through her straw while maintaining eye contact over our shoulders. “And we’re on,” she adds, pulling her shoulders back, her grin expanding. “He’s coming this way.” She slants us a cautionary look. “Let me do the talking. ’Kay?”
“Trust me,” I say, finishing my drink. “He’s all yours.”