by Lori Lane
Copyright 2020 by (Lori Lane) - All rights reserved. In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved. Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
Twist Me
A Steamy Dark Romance Story
By: Lori Lane
Twist Me
Chapter 1:
Art gallery openings are the worst. Each time I come back for whatever family event my father needs me for, my distaste for this lifestyle comes back with me. But, I'm Catherine Alderidge the mayor's beautiful, chaste daughter. I'm good for publicity, even if I hate it. No matter how old I get, I'll always be called back to make my father look good for re-election season. It has affected so many aspects of my life, none more so than the love department. Twenty-one years old and I'm still a virgin because no man dare lay a finger on me. Do you know how embarrassing that is?
I spend more time wondering when my dangerous bad boy will show up and sweep me off my feet than I do anything else. Even through college, I tried my best to lose my V-cared at frat parties and sorority parties. But, even drunk, those boys were too chicken to do anything. What is a girl to do?
Now, I stand in the streets of Seattle as the rain slowly falls on the masses. A bodyguard designated to my safety holds an umbrella over my head, watching the people as if they might explode. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the thought. People weren't inherently bad, and nobody was just going to assault me with this many people watching.
“I'd like to thank all of you for joining me in the grand opening of this art gallery, it has been an honor and a privileged the past few months working closely with these talented young artists. I'm proud to help unveil more culture and beauty in our city and I can't wait to see the wonderful things they will do,” My father spoke into the microphone, his arm wrapped around my mother's waist.
I sighed, bored out of my mind, and scanned the crowd for interesting people. There were lots of young people in the crowd of all colors, shapes, and sizes. Hipsters, businessmen and women, edgy mid-twenties goth women and men. It was a lot of the same people I had seen growing up, nothing stood out.
Until I saw him. He stood slightly out of the crowd, with two large, scary-looking men in trench coats. I admired the way his suit fit perfectly and the curve of his lips as he noticed me staring. He didn't look away if anything he looked harder. Everything about this man screamed important, respectable, dangerous. I had to have him and I'd do anything to make his acquaintance.
“... Catherine?” My bodyguard whispered to me, pulling my attention away from the sexy stranger.
“Huh?” I answered, looking at him.
He tilted his head toward my father, who looked at me expectantly. I shook my head to clear it, smiled, and approached my father. He gave me a weird look and then smiled at the crowd as we cut the ribbon with a large pair of scissors.
I smiled as people took our pictures and tried my best to focus, but my gaze always fell back to him. He stood there, watching me with quiet interest and what seemed to be amusement. I felt hot under his gaze as I went through the rest of the ribbon-cutting ceremony on autopilot. For another five minutes, I had to stand next to my father and smile while people asked questions and took photos. I hated it. My reprise came when people started flooding inside for the after-party and I could escape the public eye for air.
Eventually, I found myself in a quiet area and sipped on the fruity cocktail as I looked at the artwork. A lot of it was impressionist artwork, but I found myself more interested in the abstract. I got lost in one with wild colors and swirls, studying every brushstroke as if it were the most important. It stimulated me visually and made me feel anxious simultaneously. The artist portrayed a wide range of emotion in such a seemingly simple piece, I admired and envied her.
“Beautiful, isn't it?” An appealing, husky voice whispered as their body warmth ebbed into my back. From behind this person felt much taller and larger than I was, intimidating and strong.
I turned around and had to crane my neck to see their face. To my delight, it was him and he was standing incredibly close to me. He had his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows allowing me to see his many tattoos and strong forearms.
“It is very captivating,” I agreed, turning back to the painting as heat flamed across my cheeks.
He chuckled as if I had made a joke, taking a step forward so that he stood shoulder to shoulder with me. I caught a whiff of the musky cologne he wore, it smelled expensive and made my interest in him spike. There's nothing sexier than a man who smells just as good as he looks.
“Are you usually this into art?” He asked me.
“I wouldn't say I'm a die-hard fan of it,” I admitted, stealing a glance at him. “But, go to enough of these and I guess you start to appreciate the talent and the beauty behind each piece.”
He pursed his lips thoughtfully and nodded in agreement.
“I'm –”
“Catherine Alderidge,” he finished for me. “I know who you are.”
I blanched at his words and looked back at the painting awkwardly.
“Excuse my rudeness, sometimes I act stupidly. Especially around someone as beautiful as yourself,” he apologized a few moments of silence later. “I'm Clarke Mariucci, it's a pleasure to formally meet you, Ms. Alderidge.”
I turned back to him when he stuck his hand out to me and took it, shaking his hand politely. Our eyes met as Clarke turned my hand over and placed a kiss on the back of it suavely. Up close I could see just how dark his eyes were, nearly black as I stared into them. It sent a chill down my spine and I swallowed a lump in my throat as a weird feeling stirred in my stomach.
“It's nice to meet you, too, Clarke. Please don't call me Ms. Alderidge, call me Catherine,” I told him, grimacing at his all-too-formal approach.
He smirked at me and nodded his head. “As you wish, Catherine.”
“So, what do I have to do to buy you a drink?” He asked after we sat admiring the artwork for a little while.
I smiled at him, eyes narrowing flirtatiously. “I'm sure you'll think of something.”
He liked that and I liked that I had pleased him.
“If that's a challenge, I accept. But, I have to warn you … I stop at nothing to impress someone when I'm interested,” he informed me, his lips to my ear and his hand resting loosely on the small of my back.
I shivered appreciatively and bit my lip softly.
“Mr. Mariucci,” my father greeted as he came up to us. “It is lovely to see you tonight. I see you've met my beautiful daughter Catherine.”
When I looked over at him, I noticed the tight, forced smile on his face and knew that whatever chances I had with Clarke just slipped to none. He'd scare him off just like he scared the others off and the glimmer of hope I'd had would be gone.
“Mr. Alderidge, a pleasure,” Clarke greeted, shaking my father's hand politely. But, something in his body language suggested that it was forced as well. It made me curious about their relationship before this point.
“You must come over for a scotch soon,” my father suggested, though I didn't get the impression it was genuine.
Clarke's smile was confident – almost as if he felt superior to him in some way. His hand still hovered over the small of my back as they spoke, not that I was complaining, but it made my father very uncomfortable. I caught him glancing at the contact often and the twist of his lips each time.
“I may have to take you up on that offer soon,” Clarke told him.
You could cut the tension betwee
n them with a knife, the level of testosterone coming off of them was tangible. It only made me more inquisitive and I made a mental note to ask around about Clarke's relationship with my family. They clearly knew each other well – and it wasn't a very favorable knowledge.
“Catherine, I think it's time that we retired for the evening. You have a very long drive ahead of you tomorrow and I want you well-rested. Why don't you go find your mother and I'll meet the two of you in the car,” My father ordered suddenly, no room for argument in his tone.
I wanted to argue but knew better than that.
Clarke surprised me as his strong arms wrapped me up in a friendly hug. He was warm and I felt tiny in his powerful grasp. “I look forward to seeing you again soon, Catherine,” he whispered into my ear before we parted ways.
My cheeks flamed as I looked up at him and I smiled. “Me too. Have a great night, Clarke,” I told him politely and excused myself.
He's going to be trouble, I mused as I made my way through the gallery in search of my mother. And after walking through the whole crowded gallery, I found her with my bodyguard.
*******
I'm not sure what possessed me to get out of bed that night, but as I groggily walked down the hallway I overheard something terrible. My father's office door was opened just a crack, the thin slice of light coming from it seemed to illuminate the dark hallway. Inside I could hear him talking to someone and it was starting to get heated on both sides.
“You are out of your mind if you think I'll let you!” My father shouts incredulously as I tiptoe closer to the door.
“It's my only offer unless you want to see a dark side of me, Mr. Alderidge,” a familiar voice threatens, an icy calm to his tone.
My heart hammered as I looked through the crack, unable to see much except for my father as he paced the room. I could barely make out a second person with their back to me, sitting casually in one of the chairs by the fireplace. He didn't seem phased from what I could see and I wondered what he meant by his 'dark side'.
“She's my only child! You're asking too much of me!” My father shouts again, his tone desperate as he looked at the man with wide eyes and flared nostrils.
The other man chuckled and leaned forward. “What did you think would happen if you didn't pay up? I'm not running a fucking charity. Unless you have my money, I'll be taking Catherine.”
My eyes widened and I gasped quietly. Please tell me you didn't make a deal with the Mafia, I thought fearfully. It wasn't exactly a secret that the Mafia ran Seattle and it definitely wasn't a secret that they weren't fucking around. Nobody in their right mind would make a deal with them unless they were stupid or desperate.
I couldn't picture my father being either.
“Please, she's my whole world. Can't I give you something else? Anything else you want, I swear. Just don't take Catherine from me!” My father pleaded, down on his knees with his hands clasped together.
I heard the man sigh heavily as he stood up. “I want Catherine and there's nothing you can do to stop me. You have an hour to say your goodbyes, and don't think you can just hide her away from me. I'm not as easy to dodge as the sheep who lick your boots, Mayor. I'll find her.” He threatened, turning around to leave.
It felt like the wind had been knocked from my lungs when I saw him and I lost my balance, falling to my ass on the hardwood. A million feelings past through my heart as I absorbed what I had seen.
Clarke is in the Mafia? That can't be right, I thought desperately as his footsteps closed in on the door before me.
“You're a monster!” My father shouts as Clarke pulls the door open, light washing over my body on the floor.
Our eyes locked and I couldn't help but feel like a deer caught in headlights as his lips straightened into a line. It set my heart racing again and I felt paralyzed as he looked down at me, lacking the usual suave smile. His expression was hard to read and I feared that I had just upset him in a way that would bite me in the ass.
And then just as quickly, his expression softened again and he leaned down to me with his hand extended. “So we meet again,” he murmured, a small smile on his lips as he stared me down.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and put my shaking hand in his, allowing him to help me up off the floor. Quickly, I pulled my hand back once I stood on my feet and backed myself up against the wall.
He sighed softly and put his hands in his pockets. “So I take it you heard all of that, then?”
I nodded fearfully.
“I'm not going to hurt you, Catherine.”
I don't believe you.
“I-I know that.”
He took a step toward me and I cowered up against the wall. “Are you sure? You look as pale as a ghost.”
I tried to look confidant as I straightened my spine and stepped away from the wall, unable to meet his powerful gaze. Instead, I looked to the floor as I murmured that I was fine and balled my hands into fists behind my back. Don't show your weakness to this man, the little voice in my head commanded.
He sighed, walking toward me until my back hit the wall and he had me pinned. “I'm not a monster, Catherine. Please don't look at me like that.”
I craned my head to look up at him, my heartbeat accelerating and my palms sweating as I flattened them against the wall. “I-I'm sorry,” the words came out meekly through my lips and I pressed them together nervously.
Clarke ran his fingertip down my face and pulled my chin up by his index and thumb. “I'll be back in an hour to get you, Catherine, please don't let this little exchange sour your impression of me. I promise that I'm not as bad of a guy as you think right now.”
He let go of my face after one last caress of his finger and I waited until his figure disappeared down the hallway before I exhaled. I quickly crossed the hallway into my father's office, shut the door behind me, and locked it.
“Catherine?” My father asked from his desk chair, looking at me with red-ringed eyes. He stood up when he saw the fearful set of my shoulders and the tears in my eyes as I finally let myself feel it.
“Daddy, please tell me you didn't make a deal with the Mafia,” I whimpered as he walked over to me.
He stopped dead in his tracks, his shoulders slumped and he couldn't look me in the eye. “I'm so sorry, Catherine. I never thought it would come to this...”
Chapter 2:
Clarke made good on his word, returning an hour later to collect me. I had spent most of that time in my parents' arms, crying and begging them to fix it. When I drove up from Olympia for the art gallery opening, I never imagined that I would get into this situation. Hell, I never even once thought about myself in this position – it felt too fairy tale and ridiculous. People don't just take people from their families to settle debts, or so I thought.
But, as I sat in the car next to Clarke that evening, avoiding his gaze as someone drove us down the busy streets of downtown, my whole world changed. Everything seemed darker outside, the fresh rain made the streets and sidewalks black but my paranoia came from what hides everywhere else. Knowing about the Mafia and actually being involved with them are two sides to the same coin and I was on the wrong side of it. I desperately wanted to be back in my bed at home as we turned into an underground parking garage.
“Catherine,” Clarke called, touching my arm. “Look at me.”
I turned to him and tried my best to look him in the eye, but couldn't keep my gaze there longer than a few seconds.
He sighed and grabbed my chin gingerly to make me look at him.
“Whatever you're thinking right now couldn't be further from the truth. I'm not a monster who is going to hurt you or keep you in a sex dungeon or anything. My interest in you is genuine, I promise.”
The words sex dungeon immediately set my heartbeat to the max and I tried not to let it show on my face. As much as I wanted to trust him because of my romantic interest in him, I knew better than that. Clarke isn't as gentle as a kitten, he couldn't be. Mafia men were cold and dang
erous and you didn't fuck with them because of that fact. I didn't want to profile him before really knowing him, but I could only imagine what he would do if someone told him no.
“What do you plan on doing with me?” I asked him meekly, pressing my hands together between my thighs.
His confidant smirk returned as he released my face. “I'm going to make you fall in love with me, Catherine.”
Just eight hours ago I would've swooned hearing that from him. Hell, he already had me smitten from the beginning. But, after tonight, alarm bells were ringing in my head and it was hard to hear anything else.
“You hardly know me,” I murmured, looking at my lap.
He chuckled. “I know enough.”
“We're here, sir,” the driver announced as the car stopped moving.
Clarke was smiling when I looked over at him and I tried my best to return it. “Everything is going to be great, you'll see.” He told me as the driver opened my door and offered his hand.
I took it and let him help me out of the car as Clarke got out alongside me.
He came around to my side quickly and held his arm out to me, which I slowly wrapped my arm through. I looked around the underground parking garage and noticed that there were quite a few cars. Maybe twenty in this lot alone and I couldn't help but wonder how many of them belonged to other Mafia members. Or maybe they belonged to other civilians and Clarke liked to keep himself in a low-key area for cover. Whatever the case, it looked like an expensive area of the city.
We got into an elevator and two men were waiting for us, the same men that were with Clarke at the art gallery opening. They greeted him mutely with a nod of understanding and positioned themselves protectively. Definitely bodyguards, I decided as the elevator took us up. Several levels, stopping on each floor until we reached the penthouse.
It was late, so it was understandable that we didn't run into anybody on the way up, but I couldn't help but wish we had. If not for anything but relieving the tension I felt standing in between these men. I've been small my whole life, standing at a startling five-foot-three, but I have never felt this tiny in my life.