Triple Major

by Lana Hartley

  I wipe the blood off my hand with an Armani handkerchief and then get into my waiting limo.

  Edison fucking Shaw.

  Yes, I’ve been rolling in money from the time I was in college. I paid off my student loan debts in less than two weeks.

  And then as soon as I graduated, Edison came down on me. He told me that I was never gonna get out of the mob. I’m in for life. And that I’m forever indebted to him. That’s what he said.

  Little does he know that I have fucking strength, more strength and aptitude than he’s aware of.

  Little does he know that I have a plan to get out.

  I’ve been working hard to get to this point. I’ve made more money than I know what to do with. I’m a fucking billionaire, thanks to Edison and his dirty work.

  But I’m also respected.

  I have guys that are loyal to me and only me.

  And this is going to be my way out.

  I’m going to take over Edison—to kill him, if I have to. I’ll do whatever I fucking can to secure my freedom.

  I deserve it.

  I never asked for this life.

  And now I know so much about the business that I can create my own organization, where we do things aboveboard.

  I’m a master at making money, and I plan to make more of that.

  The thing I’m not into is all the killing, all the blood, the violence, the prostitution rings, and the drug trafficking. None of these suits me.

  And that’s why Edison has to go.

  He thinks he can constrain me. He thinks he owns me.

  But nobody owns Nathan Sharp.

  I’m a force to be reckoned with.

  I’m a force that Edison has underestimated.

  I’m fucking good at my job, and I learned from the best, Edison himself. He doesn’t know that I’m gonna overtake him, and when I do, I’m gonna make him pay for every single crime he made me commit against my will.

  The limousine winds its way through the Hollywood Hills. It’s as glamorous as ever here.

  The only thing that offsets my regret over having to be involved in thug life, is the fact that I get to live in fucking Hollywood.

  And what makes it even better is the fact that I have so much fucking money I can do whatever I want. I own this town.

  I tell the driver, “On second thought, take me to Phantom.”

  It’s a club I own.

  I make it my mission to expand my portfolio and to make sure I have reasonable, legal investments all over the place. I own real estate, restaurants, clubs, stock, everything. I’m an entrepreneur born out of the mafia.

  Edison created me, and now I’m gonna take him down.

  But that doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun first.

  The driver turns the car around and I watch the lights of the city flicker from the Hollywood Hills.

  It’s all glitz and glam here. It always is. It’s a town full of people trying to make something of themselves. I was once that kind of person.

  And now that I’m at the top, I realize it’s not so great. I’m missing something in my life, something unnamable.

  There’s a permanent hole etched in my heart, and I don’t fucking know why, but I’m always trying to escape it.

  I pour myself a heavy glass of scotch and take a sip as I watch the city glamour outside my window. Yeah, I’m on top of the fucking world, and I should be fucking grateful for it, right?

  Well, if you had to commit crimes the way I do, maybe the top wouldn’t look so blindingly perfect.

  The blood on my hands from the work I’ve had to do is always gonna be there. My conscience will never be clear.

  Somehow, I ventured into this dark world of crime and money, and I’m desperate to fucking get out.

  Maybe that’s the reason I have this unspoken dissatisfaction with life. Maybe it’s because I’ve gone to the dark side. I’m in so deep that there’s no way out. Nothing can ever appease my crime-weary soul.

  I drink my scotch, but it does nothing to tame my reckless spirit.

  I need something—anything to distract me from myself.

  The limousine pulls up to the back entrance of the club. I’m nothing if not discreet.

  I go inside the unmarked door to the VIP area. My guys know me here. Everyone does. And even as I speak, a stripper’s climbing on my lap.

  “Hey, Bambi,” I say, peering at her huge fake tits, finding some sort of reprieve at this moment.

  “Hey, baby, do you want your usual?”

  “Yes,” I sigh heavily.

  And then she gets down on her knees, unzips me, and starts sucking my twelve-inch cock.

  I watch her lick and tease the tip of my cock like she always does. She peers up at me from under false lashes and I take a minute to just admire her beautiful fucking body.

  “That’s good, baby,” I say, taking a fistful of her hair. “Suck it. Suck it fucking hard.”

  She moans around me and it nearly sends me over the edge, but I wait. I always wait, making sure to extend the moment.

  I force her head down upon my shaft and she tries and fails to take in all twelve inches. She gags and moans. I see that her eyes are watering, and that makes me even fucking harder, if you can imagine that.

  I need to come, to spray my hot load all over her face. It will help me forget this dark day and all I had to do.

  So I do.

  She sucks my cock so fucking hard and I pull out just in time to explode all over her perfect face and tits.

  “Good fucking girl,” I say as she laps up all the come she can.

  I watch as she scoops it off her face. She sucks her fingers clean and I just fucking watch.

  “That all tonight, baby?”

  “Yeah, that’s all,” I say, zipping up.

  She gets up, kisses me on the cheek, and returns to her VIP duties, dancing for the rich and famous.

  I tell my guy Tommy to pay her a thousand bucks later. She’s not my whore, not a prostitute. And I don’t want to treat her like one, but she needs the fucking money. He won’t tell her who it’s from. But she’ll likely assume it’s me.

  I’ve been fucking her for about a year.

  It’s simple.

  She doesn’t ask questions, and she doesn’t pry.

  I need this kind of relationship, all surface. Because if I dare look into my own heart, I fear there will only be blackness. And that’s nothing to offer a woman.

  I sit back and watch the scene unfold around me. Hollywood is full of debauchery.

  Bambi’s dancing on some other guy’s lap.

  People sit, doing coke around a table.

  I am so fucking sick of everything.

  Isn’t there a single ray of sunshine or hope in this cold world?

  I’ve been hardened by crime, and there’s no going back.

  Everything I once believed in is gone, and now, there’s only the shell of a man who’s seen too much.

  Sienna

  The diamond necklace hardly seems real.

  My father gave it to me as a welcome home gift.

  When I saw it, I exclaimed and wrapped my arms around his neck. He's really the best dad ever.

  And not just because he showers me with gifts. He's my best friend, the person who gives me sage advice, and most of all, he lets me know that I am loved.

  I hear the people below, buzzing around the house.

  As usual, my mother has hired the best party planners in town. This elaborate affair probably costs more than $60,000.

  She loves to throw a good party.

  It's a celebration of sorts, for my coming home and for my father to raise money for his campaign.

  I step into the white and silver gown that my mother bought for me. It fits like a glove and makes me look like the heiress that I am.

  The Who's Who of Hollywood is here. People with old money, and new money, and everyone in between.

  Of course, I know most of them. I grew up attending these kind of parties. My parents
made sure that I understood how to talk to people with money.

  I took etiquette classes and have been trained to speak several languages. I play tennis and do ballet. I follow polo and read the news. I know how to play golf and to scuba dive. Every summer we take my father's yacht to the south of France. I'm well versed in art and literature. You can take me to any museum in the world, and I'd be able to show you around the place.

  My parents have made sure I'm fluent in the art of having money, too.

  I know the importance of philanthropy and the importance of maintaining a clean reputation.

  Thus, my virginity is intact and I’m the perfect bride-to-be. All the guys in town who are remotely in my age bracket know that I’m the heiress to the Rose fortune. They know that in me, they’ll have the perfect Beverly Hills wife.

  And all of that is on display tonight. This party is a coming out for me, so the Hollywood social set can see how Hudson Rose's daughter has blossomed into a young woman.

  None of them know that I have secret ambitions of my own. I'm studying English, and I plan to be a writer.

  This is something I have yet to tell my parents. I don't think they need to crush my dreams just yet.

  Writing is something that Daddy would say is just a hobby. But I want it to be more than that. I know I can write novels that affect people and affect change.

  So, at some point, I have to tell my parents that I'm not going to law school, and I don't want to be a lawyer as they had planned.

  Tonight, however, is a party. And I'm not going to ruin Daddy's big fundraising with my own personal drama. I’ll tell them at a later date, like tomorrow.

  You look great, Sienna. You can do this.

  I always give myself a pep talk in the mirror before attending one of these glamorous events.

  I walk down the hall and descend the grand staircase, seeing the party already in full swing. People are milling about inside and out in the backyard.

  "Sienna! You're finally home. Won't you come say hello to my new wife, Barbara?"

  "Hi, Mr. Miller," I say, shaking his hand politely. "How have you been?"

  "Just great, honey," he says, pulling me over to meet wife number three. "Darling, I'd like you to meet Hudson's daughter Sienna."

  A hard-looking brunette with fake tits and a fake smile turns to meet me.

  She takes my hand limply and replies, "Hello, I'm Barbara, it's a pleasure to meet you."

  Yeah, right. This dame couldn't care who I am. I'm not a man and I'm not rich so I'm not important to her.

  "Well," I say, making my excuses. "I better go find Daddy. Nice to see you Mr. Miller, Mrs. Miller."

  I'm walking around the edge of the party, trying to avoid the limelight.

  "Darling," the party planner says. “Don't you look fabulous? It's been too long."

  "Hi, Russo," I say. "You've organized a gorgeous party, as usual."

  "Oh, you're too kind," he says, kissing both of my cheeks. "Don't forget, this party is for you also. And don't you look picture perfect."

  "Thanks, Russo, I'll see you later."

  I wander around as people begin to trickle in. I'm hoping to see some of my friends here tonight.

  I walk over to the bar that's set up next to the pool and order a glass of champagne.

  My mother walks over to me. She's wearing an elaborate gown. She's also dripping in diamonds and jewels. Her blonde hair is perfectly coiffed, and she looks like the consummate Beverly Hills socialite.

  "Hi, darling," she says to me. "Are you drinking champagne already?"

  "Mommy, I'm old enough to drink," I remind her.

  "I know, dear. But just don't get too drunk tonight. We’re representing your father, after all. Tonight is crucial towards funding his entire campaign."

  "I know," I sigh. "I don't understand why Daddy has to run for Senate, anyway. I don't want to be in the public eye. I like having my own private life."

  "Sienna, I don't know what I'm going to do with you. We've been over this a thousand times before. Your father just wants to make a difference in the world, and running for Senate is one avenue to do that."

  I sink down onto a barstool. I know this conversation is over. I know they don't care what I think.

  It's just that I crave privacy and I go out of my way to protect it. I like being unknown.

  "Don't forget to say hello to the Armstrongs," she says. "They're set to make a very sizable donation to your father's campaign."

  "Don't worry, I will," I say, sipping my champagne.

  She leaves to make the rounds. The party is glittering and fabulous. Russo has arranged for light pink roses to be everywhere, even floating in the pool. Crystal candelabras adorn every table, and the entire evening is candlelit and perfect.

  I think back to what my mother said about the Armstrongs being here. Alex Armstrong is the man I'm going to marry. I'm sure of it.

  He's good-looking and well-bred. He's kind and has an intellect that appeals to me. Our parents have been setting us up for years.

  Most of all, the thing about Alex is that he's a safe bet. He’ll never divorce me or hurt me. He's easy to get along with, and that's what I need.

  I've had an easy life up to this point, and I want it to continue being easy. I learned a long time ago that you don't marry for love; you marry someone within your rank.

  And Alex and I are friends. He's mildly handsome and that's all I need.

  Besides, I aim to please, and I know if I marry Alex, Daddy would be.

  What can I say?

  I'm a Daddy's girl through and through.

  I look around the party to see if the Armstrongs are here yet. They aren't.

  It's shaping up to be like every party I've ever attended here. It's always fun to chat with people, and I love this life. But I'd be lying if I said that nothing was missing.

  I might marry Alex, but deep inside my heart, I'm dreaming of love...true love, a fairytale kind of love.

  I don't know if it will happen, but I keep the dream alive.

  It's my own secret, but I just know that my fantasy guy, my soul mate is out there somewhere.

  Maybe I'm deluding myself, or maybe I'm right, but I’ll never stop dreaming.

  What is love, anyway?

  I've been saving myself for years, and I've never met a man I'm even remotely interested in.

  Alex may have to do, but luckily, I have some years to decide.

  For now, my focus is grad school and somehow convincing my parents that English is as good of a degree as any.

  I watch people dance and make merry and think what a truly blessed life I have.

  Nothing can go wrong now.

  I'm home in Beverly Hills, and that's all that matters.

  Nate

  He’s evil to the fucking core.

  Darkness personified.

  And, as of now, he’s still my fucking boss.

  “This is the perfect mission for you, Nate. Something special!”

  Edison Shaw’s disembodied voice comes out of the speaker in the middle of the table.

  He’s a sinister motherfucker, and most people don’t want to fuck with him because they could literally die.

  James and Titus are fearfully attentive to the power of his voice, but I see right through this ghost in the machine. It’s a ghost that has haunted me for such a long time, I’ve tolerated his presence in my life for far too long.

  I’ll crush Edison, reduce him to nothing. Then he’ll be a ghost story that fades into oblivion.

  Soon, Nate, soon, I remind myself.

  My trusted men, James and Titus, look at me in expectation, actually holding their breaths. The voice of Edison is still able to hold them captive with fear. But I’ll end his command soon.

  I stand up and place my two fists on the table.

  “What is it?” I bark harshly at the speaker, leaning forward.

  “A kidnapping. The daughter of a businessman who’s standing in my way,” Edison says. “That way, I�
�ll soon have him where I want him, eating out of my hand.”

  “And who is she?” I ask, wanting to cut Edison short.

  I have to bite back my anger, not wanting to give myself away. I’m about to become this man’s worst nightmare. I just need a little more time.

  “Pretty little blonde thing. I’ll have my men pass you all the info you need to know. And Nate, I need her alive, of course. But that doesn’t mean you can’t rough her up a little, I know you like that...”

  Edison rears with maniacal laughter. It’s a sound I’m used to. One that puts fear in everyone’s heart but my own. Is it wrong to say I don’t care whether I live or die? I’m so far into this world of crime that death seems like an easy escape.

  But that’s not me.

  I know there’s something better for me out there.

  I just have to find it.

  I give the speaker both fingers. His comment pisses me the fuck off. He has no idea what I like, and that further confirms my decision to end it once and for all with Edison.

  To end him.

  “Yeah, right,” I sneer at the speaker. “Anything else?”

  “That’s all I need from you for now, Nate. Have fun.”

  I end the call by punching the button hard while I imagine I’m punching Edison’s jaw, making him land on the floor under the weight of my power.

  He has no idea who he’s fucking with.

  He has no idea how strong I’ve become.

  I let my rage at him take over. I pick up the speaker and slam it into the glass and steel table, again and again. The surface shattering would satisfy my thirst for bringing harm to Edison…at least, a little. But, of course, the speaker breaks first and pieces of plastic and electronics scatter everywhere.

  “Motherfucker!” I yell.

  James and Titus sit frozen in their plush lounge chairs.

  I run my hand through my hair and inhale sharply. I open another button on my black silk shirt to cool down.

  Focus, Nate. You have work to do.

  It’s Edison and his fucking negative energy. That guy is pure evil. This is why I had this room installed. The conference room, as I call it. Because I don’t want fucking Edison Shaw in any part of my Hollywood Hills mansion. No way that fucker’s bad vibes are seeping into my daily luxury and life.