Sordid Seduction
Sordid Trilogy Book One
Natalie Bennett
copyright
Copyright © 2017 by Natalie Bennett
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review
www.nataliebennett.net
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Dedication
This book is dedicated to anyone, and everyone, who reads my stories and enjoys them. I loved the feedback and responses I got after releasing Darling Dark, even the negative ones. It was the positive responses that I didn't expect, that validated I wasn't the only one who loved my story and the characters I created.
It was the negative responses that made me want to better myself as a writer. Though, I know I can't please everyone. So, I will continue to always let my stories tell themselves, and my characters decide the outcome.
I hope you enjoy Sordid Seduction
Table OF Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Sordid Part Two
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Sordid Seduction
Sordid Seduction is told in two parts. Part One will be much tamer than Part Two. Sordid is a Dark Erotic Romance, with Dark elements. This is a taboo with explicit sexual content, language, and mild power exchange which may cause triggers.
Chapter One
Willow
Past
I was homesick for a place that didn't exist. A place where my mother acknowledged that I was a human being and I had a father who cared. The truth is, they were the reason I didn't believe in love. But maybe I never had. It was easier to believe they'd never loved me at all than it was to pretend they had, and one day just decided not to.
A mother that loved her little girl would have protected her right? She would have made him stop instead of calling me delusional. My mom's fear of my stepfather and her lack of backbone caused her to act none the wiser. I was always left to suffer in silence, alone.
After marking another red dash on my calendar, I added them all up and got a total of fifteen. That's how many days my mother and step-dad had been gone. They didn't leave a note or anything. It wasn't all that unusual for them to randomly up and leave, but two days ago my sister told me they were never coming back.
I refused to believe her, chalking it up to the drug induced haze she'd been in. But the more time that passed, the more I wasn't so sure. What if they never came back?
That should have been a relief. I should have been a little more grateful that God finally stepped in and did something. But Cassie had an encyclopedia of issues I was tired of trying to understand.
Leaving the sanctuary of my room, I walked down the hall, peering into my sister's room before going downstairs. Her bed was unmade, the zebra comforter half on the floor half not, bags from expensive department stores were strewn all around, and her curtains were drawn shut.
With no desire to venture into her pigsty, I went down to the kitchen. On the way, I passed the few family pictures we had hanging on the wall. We looked ordinary. My stepfather, mama, Cassie, and I. Our house was nice, the lawn was green, and the pool was never dirty. Everyone thought we were perfect. All they had to do was take a peek through the curtains, and they would see our normalcy was a pathetic sham.
Before I even entered the kitchen, I smelled it. I'd taken to stashing food in my bedroom, and kept a glass for water, so I never needed to venture out. That was the only reason I was unaware of the condition the rest of the house was in.
I had the same routine every day, straight from school to my room. If I were lucky, my step-dad would leave me be. This was the reason I chose not to have friends. Sure, plenty of girls and some boys wanted to talk to me. They learned by now it wasn't going to happen. It wasn't that I didn't want any friends. It was the complete opposite, I was just too ashamed of where I came from to open up and let someone in.
When I finally got a look at the kitchen, I gagged at the sight that greeted me. Gnats circled the overflowing trashcan. Dishes were stacked in the sink full of contaminated water, covered in food. Take out containers, and stray needles sat on the island.
The smell reminded me of when Richard had locked my puppy in the basement to punish me. When he finally unlocked the padlock so I could go see her, it was this smell that floated up from below. Something rotten, something dead. At six years old, I learned just what death entailed, and one of the horrible ways something could die.
I knew cleaning would be how I spent the rest of my night. So, I pulled my dark hair into a ponytail and got busy. Twenty minutes in, I found the dead mouse.
Chapter two
Willow
Past
Twenty-two days ago, my mother left me. I didn't have any tears left to shed for her abandonment. That said everything in itself. Cassie could care less. The electricity was on, and when she did decide to come home, that's all she was concerned about.
On the bright side, whoever was paying the bills was still keeping basic foods in the cabinets and fridge. And my body wasn't sore anymore. I was finally healing.
My life was lonely, but that was okay with me. Mama always told me I was a dirty girl and would end up alone, guess that was true. I took solace in the silence. No more late night wake ups with Richard sliding into my bed and not leaving until early sunrise. No more watching him drag mama up the stairs by her hair. Then be forced to listen to them fight for hours before the moaning started. And no more guns being pointed at me for not complying with his demands.
My school had started asking questions I couldn't answer. The last time I did, Richard punished me as soon as the case worker left our house. If he came back or they found him, and he learned I'd talked to them, even if I said nothing accusatory? My stomach hurt thinking about what he would do.
I had fallen into another routine. School, homework, shower, sleep, and repeat. On days I dealt with Cassie, it was all discombobulated. I never knew how heavy she was until I had to drag her to bed.
Like today, my arms ached, sweat dripped off my forehead, and my chest heaved in protest. After dropping Cassie onto her day bed, I rested my hands on my knees and struggled to catch my breath.
This was the third time in two weeks. Her addiction was getting worse. I'd missed school the other day because I fell asleep on her bedroom floor. I was to exhausted to even attempt going back to my own room.
Looking at my sister, you would never know what a wreck she was. I thought drug users stood out, Cassie didn't. Her mocha hair still shined, and her skin was relatively healthy if you ignored the tracks.
After checking her pulse and ensuring she wasn't dying or over-dosing, I turned towards the door. Her small hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, causing me to let out a little yelp of surprise.
"I know what he did to you, Willow." Her voice was hoarse like she hadn't spoken in days. I froze, knowing exactly what she was talking about.
"Tiss ok baby girrrl, I found a way keep ya safe," her words slurred together, her brown eyes opened and looked straight into mine. They were glazed over
from her own little cocktail of drugs and liquor. I couldn't deal with this, I tried to pry her hand off of me, failing to do so.
"Nick will keep us safe, he loves me. Even after what I did, he loves me," she sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. I had no idea who this Nick character was. Cassie had brought him up a few times. Always saying he was involved with bad men and she wasn't allowed to tell his secrets.
I'd brushed him off as a made up person, like an imaginary friend. I wanted to ask her who he was, really, I wanted to ask her anything. Just because I enjoyed peace and quiet didn't mean I liked having no one around to talk to. The state she was in, however, ruined the chances of rational conversation happening.
"You're so kind and sweet. You deserve better," Cassie choked on her words and finally let me go when I pulled away. My butt landed on the hardwood floor. I scrambled out of the room and didn't look back.
Panic. It was all I ever felt at the mere thought of even talking about Richard and his late night visits. I stood leaning against the hallway wall, willing my heart to stop racing in my chest and blinking back tears. If I didn't talk about it, then it never happened right? No one could judge me or look at me in disgust if they never knew right? Mama told me it was how bad little girls were punished.
Taking a deep breath, I peered back into my sister's room and saw she was rolled onto her other side. Facing away from me. Doing a quick count to three, I darted past her doorway and ran into my room. My night was spent desperately trying to purge unwelcome memories from my mind.
The digital numbers on my pink princess alarm clock read eleven-forty. My sister had drunkenly giggled her way into the house an hour ago. She'd been moaning like a freaking porn star ever since. At eleven years old I shouldn't have known what porn was, but I did, thanks to Richard.
I watched the numbers on the clock slowly change from eleven-forty to one-fifteen. That's when the glass shattered, and my heart launched straight into my throat. Anxiety bubbled in my stomach, making its way to my chest. I sat up and listened, waiting to hear Cassie laugh or curse. All I heard was the front door slamming shut, and seconds later a car started.
Still, I waited. When the clock changed to one-thirty and I still hadn't heard a sound from below, I knew something was wrong. I could feel it in my weary soul. Concern for my sister had me launching out of bed and running from the room.
"Cassie?"
I called out her name, taking the stairs two at a time, getting no response. There were vases of white lilies sat around the foyer, I ignored them and went straight to the living room. Nothing could have prepared me for what I found. Life is cruel to those of us that have good memories. Because sometimes memories are the worst form of torture.
I would always remember the sound that left my mouth as I fell to my knees. The broken glass from the coffee table cutting into me as I crawled across the floor. And my sister's naked corpse cradled in my arms.
The rain was light, but the wind was brutal. It fitted for a funeral. I didn't know any of the people around me. Sometimes I forgot how I even got here. My mind went to autopilot the night Cassie was murdered.
I called emergency, and they showed up within minutes. A police officer had to physically remove me from the living room. Everything was a blur up until this point. I wondered if something was wrong with me. Why wasn't I crying? Isn't that what people did at these things, fell apart?
Meaningless words were spoken, and the shiny oak casket was lowered into the ground where Cassie would deteriorate away. I hadn't paid much attention to the man holding an umbrella over me, covering me from the rain. I'd been staying at an older woman's house just going with the flow of whatever happened next. Like a leaf being carried on the wind, having no control of where it landed.
I wasn't expecting what happened next. The man that had been standing across from me was suddenly in front of me, kneeling down so he could look me in the eyes. His were dark, like his hair. I blinked at him unsure who he was or what he wanted. Another man in a suit stood a little behind him holding a red umbrella.
"Do you know who I am?"He asked me. When I shook my head no, a small smile painted his lips. Then he said the three words I never thought I'd hear. It wasn't as shocking as my mother saying she loved me, but it was close.
"I'm your father."
Chapter Three
Willow
Past. Four Years Later
I chewed on the end of my pencil, trying to ignore the stripper swinging around on the pole to the left of me. Pretty Kitty was closed until later in the evening. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been trying to do math homework at the bar. I would have been upstairs in the private lounge.
Rosebud, or Rose, as she liked me to call her, was trying way too hard to get my father's attention. Shaking her ass and doing erratic downward dogs. Gross. The word father was still foreign to me. He'd shown up at my sister's funeral and promised to take care of me from that moment forward. Considering I hadn't ever used the word dad and he wanted me to start at eleven, it was a bit awkward at first. But now it was as natural as the sky being blue.
Our relationship was rocky at the beginning, to say the least. Seth had been absent my entire life, and he had no viable excuse as to why. Not only that, he had another daughter born two weeks after I was. He never stopped trying to make it up to me, and it was safe to say I didn't hate him anymore. Much.
"Her tits are fake," Abigail whispered way too loudly from my other side. I glanced at the stage to make sure Rose didn't hear that and then shot my sister a glare.
"Willow, you're no fun," she pouted at me. Rolling my eyes, I looked back to my paper. It was pointless there was no way I was going to get anything done. My concentration was gone.
"How would you know?" I raised my brows and asked her, slipping my paper back into my school folder.
"Uh, because the right one way is bigger than the other," she cupped her breasts to emphasize this point. Her hazel eyes full of mirth. Huh, she was right. I eyed Rose's giant mismatched boobs and tried not to laugh. I had no room to talk, my back and my chest were the same size.
"Gotta go potty, be right back," Abigail flashed me a smile and hopped off her bar stool. I watched her make her way across the upscale strip club and disappear down a hall, her golden hair swishing behind her. Pretty Kitty was just one of my father's many establishments. It was dome shaped, the walls were all a metallic black, and the floor was just as dark with swirls of deep burgundy.
There was the main level, the second tier, and then the VIP lounge. But that was only for big spenders. Some would frown, ok, many would frown on two fifteen your old girls hanging out in such a place. But not Seth Borgia, when he stepped into my life I was thrust into the world I never knew existed. How could I?
No one ever sat me down and told me there were men and women with power who seemed to have their own elite level of classification. Men and women who did things that could make the strongest man vomit out of disgust. Piss his pants from fear, or give up everything he believed in for just a small taste of the lifestyle.
I was now one of these elite by default. Hence why I was sitting in a strip club on a Tuesday at four in the afternoon. My father, Seth, didn't believe in wrapping Abigail and me in protective bubble wrap. He never wanted us to be blindsided on what went on around us, in many ways I was grateful for this. There wasn't much I heard or seen that surprised me anymore. From sex trafficking to drug deals, I'd seen it all at least once. Well, nothing surprised me up until I spun around on my stool.
The dress shoes were the first thing I noticed, they were so damn shiny I could almost see my reflection in them. My eyes traveled up the dark pants of a suit. Over the jacket of said suit, hugging a visually muscular frame, and landed on the face of a God. Maybe the God part was pushing it, but he was the most attractive man I had ever seen.
"You must be Willow," his voice was smooth, firm. He looked me over in a clinical way. I couldn't explain how it made me feel because I'd never felt anything like it until rig
ht then. It took me a fraction of a second to realize who he was.
"Don't you talk?" He spoke again, looking down at me.
"Not to strangers," I shrugged, wondering why he was here in the first place. Anyone who was no one or someone knew who the Serbans were. This life was a pyramid scheme, and everyone was desperately trying to reach the top. That's where the Serbans were, and had been for years from what I was told.
"I'm not a stranger," he replied. Before I could respond with a snarky response, people started popping out of the woodwork. Abigail rushed up to us with stars in her eyes, staring at Pierce like he was a piece of meat. And my father's loud voice had us all turning our heads.
"Ah, I see you've met my beautiful hijas." Seth approached with what looked like a genuine smile on his face. This confused me even more, he hadn't uttered a word about who he was meeting today only that it was important. Most of the time we knew.
"I didn't get a chance to introduce myself just yet." Pierce looked from my father to me, ignoring my sister completely. Because you don't need to. I refrained from rolling my eyes.
"I'm Willow, this is Abby, and you're Mr. Serban." Based on the look my father shot me he wasn't impressed with my introductory skills. I added Mr., out of respect so I personally thought I did fine. Abigail snickered beside me but swallowed it down when Seth shot her a sour look. Pierce studied me for a beat before one corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk. I felt a warmth on my face I also didn't know how to explain, causing me to look away from his intense gaze.
"Such a cheeky little rebel," he mused. I didn't miss Seth tensing and the slight flash of anger in his dark eyes. But he forced a smile and chuckled along anyways. My face heated further from the nickname. Did everyone know I had to switch schools because of expulsion, and why?
Why was I even asking myself that? Of course, they did. Sarah Marshall's family let the whole world know Willow Borgia assaulted their little angel.
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