I tug down on my tight black dress as I walk through the doors to Trance, our favorite spot for a Friday night. Bobby, my bodyguard, opens the door for me. As I walk through, he grabs my wrist. I turn to face him with a scowl. “Don’t touch me,” I spit out.
“I promised your father I won’t let you make a fool of yourself. He has a big meeting tomorrow, and the last thing he needs is to clean up after you again.” His breath, tinged with whiskey, chokes over me.
I huff and snatch my arm back. Like my bastard of a father cares. He stopped being my dad the day my mom died.
He didn’t want to accept what his man did to me. He couldn’t bear to be around me after I told him. All he is is a power hungry thug.
“Well, he doesn’t need to worry. I’m totally fine. Just having a good time, living my life.”
I cross my arms and straighten my spine. I’ve gotten good at pretending to be okay. I do it every time I leave the house.
“Look. He cares about you; he just has a lot going on at the moment.”
“Are you serious? He’s had a lot going on for years!” I can’t disguise the hurt in my voice.
“I’m not having this conversation with you.”
He frowns, and I turn my back on him and keep walking, the urge to shoot some vodka taking over. If I’m sober, I feel. I feel so fucking much it cripples me.
He shakes his head and assumes his position for the night to watch me. I storm off and search for my friends in the sea of faces. Spying Liv’s bouffant blonde hair, I head to their table at the back of the room.
The top is lined with drinks. Liv and Jas eye me suspiciously as I toss back a shot before even saying a word, letting the vodka set my body on fire. Making me numb.
Just how I like it.
But it’s not enough. Nothing is ever enough. This is my life. Day after day, drink after drink. It’s the only way I can stop the recurring nightmare of him. Even just temporarily.
“Hey bitches!” I say, plastering on a smile for them.
“Stressful day?” Jas asks, looking over her nearly empty glass with a grin.
“Something like that,” I mumble.
“What’s the plan for tonight?” Liv says, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder.
A smile creeps up on my lips. I spy Bobby to my left, watching me like a hawk by the entrance to the bathroom.
“The same as all the other nights. Get fucked up, pass out, maybe find some guys to keep us up,” Jas interrupts before I can reply. She finishes her glass of wine, then licks her bright red lips.
“Come on, little mafia princess, you had best head to the bar. You look like you need to catch up.” Liv slides towards me.
I can’t remember the last time I even had a hangover; that’s mainly thanks to the cocaine. Since flunking out of college, the three of us moved in together, and we’ve partied hard since. The second I start to sober up, I can feel his teeth biting into my flesh, the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress. His cold hands gripping onto my hips.
I shiver in my seat, almost feeling his warm, whiskey-laced breath gagging me. Bile rises up my throat, and I swallow it back down.
Alcohol is not going to cut it tonight. The memories have been creeping back in more and more frequently.
“You’re right. I need some shots and maybe something more.”
My friends both look at me with a knowing smile.
“You best get to the bar and find us a guy; they always give it up for you. Little miss perfect tits and ass. Hell, how you get away with not sleeping with them for it, I’ll never know,” Liv giggles and downs her shot.
I scan the bar area, filled with suited men. One of them is bound to have what I need. I hate doing this, but when dad cuts me off the desperation takes over.
“Fine,” I huff out.
My drug lord father apparently draws the line at me taking what he supplies. What he doesn’t know is that little line of white powder is the only thing keeping his daughter sane.
He wants to act like nothing happened to me. Fine. But I can’t forget the moment my life was shattered by one of his men.
So I’ve found my own way to forget. Being that wild child, living up to my reputation.
“Well?” Jas questions, shaking me from my thoughts.
“I’m on it,” I say and stand, shuffling my dress down over my ass and readjusting my bra so my tits perfectly fill my plunging neckline. I prop my arms up on my favorite place and signal to the fairly attractive, dark-haired bartender.
“What can I get you, love?” the bartender grins.
“A vodka and coke, please.” I bat my eyelashes at him.
He nods and starts pouring. “This one’s on me,” the bartender drawls out, snapping my attention to him.
I bite my lower lip, wondering if he has what I’m looking for.
“Thank you.”
He gives me a wink and starts taking the next woman’s order. I stir my straw around my glass and take a sip. Maybe if I drink it fast enough, I can call him back and ask him if he knows who I should talk to.
I just need a few more of these and a bump and he won’t even be on my mind at all.
A deep voice booms from behind me.
“Asher, double scotch on the rocks, please.”
Asher immediately stops what he’s doing and starts pouring the scotch. I turn around, trailing my gaze up the tailored black suit until I am struck by emerald eyes.
Wow.
His dark hair is that perfect length I could run my fingers through. Day old stubble frames his sharp jawline. He kind of has that sexy, rough around the edges vibe.
“What’s a gorgeous woman like you doing here ordering her own drinks?”
I stare at his full lips as he speaks. I blink a few times and shake my head to refocus.
Straightening my spine, I pull back my shoulders and meet his eyes. “Because it’s the twenty-first century?”
He closes the distance between us, and I feel like I’m drowning in the heady scent of his aftershave.
What the hell is happening right now? This isn’t me. Men don’t get to me.
I close my eyes as he leans in, his lips brushing my cheek.
“Is that right?” he murmurs.
Heat spreads along my chest in a wave and crawls up my cheeks.
I turn my face into his and whisper, “There is something I need, though.”
He chuckles and my heart rate picks up. The cut of his suit and the easy way he pulls his black Amex from his wallet screams money. They are always the ones with the good stuff. Just what I need to numb my brain.
His arms frame me against the bar. I can feel the heat of his body surrounding me as he leans his full lips near my ear. “And what is that, then?”
He raises a brow and gives me a boyish grin, his hand going into the inner pocket of his designer suit jacket. I notice a tease of a tattoo sticking out beneath his cuff as he pulls out the little baggie of white powder.
Leaning back in, his breath hits my cheek. “So, do you have a big night planned?”
Bingo.
“Yes.” I bite my bottom lip and play my role, batting my lashes at him.
He takes a step back, his eyes roaming my body. He runs a hand over his stubble and lets out a ragged breath, his glance flicking to the bathroom. The now bodyguard-less bathroom.
“Not here.” His voice is low.
He holds out his hand, but I hesitate for a second. His green eyes pierce into me, making me feel weird things in my chest.
Fuck it. If it means I can be numb again for the night, I’m taking it.
The second our palms connect, a spark flies, enough for me to try to jerk my hand back. But he doesn’t let me, he just squeezes it tighter.
I follow his lead towards the bathroom. Not my place of choice, but it’ll do for now. Excitement courses through me.
“Hey, what’s your name?” I ask out of curiosity.
“Luca.”
He doesn’t look at me, he just walks us through the little hallway towards the fire escape. As he goes to push open the door, I ask, “Don’t you want to know mine?”
He turns back to me and raises his brow.
“I don’t need to ask. I know. Miss Rosa Francesca Falcone.”
I stop in my tracks, looking him up and down again.
The power, the suit, the Italian look.
“Shit,” I whisper.
“Yes, shit indeed,” he exhales and turns to face me.
His eyes bore into mine. Gone is the grin, the playfulness.
Panic chokes my words. “Please don’t do this. I can speak to my dad. Whatever it is you want, he can give you–”
“Too late for that.” He cuts me off, opening the door and dragging me out. The shock of daylight burns my eyes. As the glare fades, I spot blood splattered on the ground. “No!” I see Bobby’s lifeless body behind the dumpster next to me.
Before I can take a lungful of air to scream, a hand clamps over my face from behind, smothering me. I flail around as much as I can, fighting for breath. But I give in, my life isn’t worth fighting for.
