I shake my head and do the second shot he hands me. My skin starts to warm and my cheeks feel hot. Pierce turns around, grabs two tall glasses of something green and frozen, and hands me one.
“Let’s go.” Pierce grabs my free hand and leads us through the dancers.
We find a small open couch on the edge of the dance floor. Pierce sits close while I sip my drink.
I look up and watch as girls dressed like mermaids swing from the ceiling on silk ribbons. Their legs are covered in shiny scales with a tail at the end and shells cover their breast. They move so effortless through the air, as if they are swimming.
I finish my drink and my limbs feel lighter. Swaying in my seat, I feel the music in my whole body. I remember the freedom and power I felt on my birthday when I was lost in dancing. I want more.
After a few more shots, I am moving through the mob. I brush against hot bodies as I weave my way to the center. The heat swarms me as the crowd swallows me as one of their own. My eyes close and my hands reach up for the surface like I’m under the water. I remember the night of my birthday and how carefree I felt dancing with strangers. Tonight, I feel weightless. There’s no curfew or father waiting for me.
I blend in with the moving bodies, their rhythm becoming my own. I’m surrounded by people, but I feel wide open.
A hand touches my hip and slides around my stomach, circling around me. A girl about my height smiles and pulls me closer. Her eyelashes are blue and too long to be natural. Half of her head is shaved and on the other side is long blond hair streaked with blue. I like her bold look.
We gravitate toward each other until there is barely an inch between us. With the bass pounding against us, we interlock our fingers and close our eyes. We move in sync, ignoring any other sweaty body that crushes against us.
Selcouth (adj.) unfamiliar, rare, strange and yet marvelous.
It’s so hot in here that a thin layer of sweat coats my skin. She spins me so my back is to her chest. Her hands touch my stomach, my hips, and anywhere else she can reach. The touch is sensual but not sexual. I reach my hands behind me, holding the back of her neck. We melt together into one.
Maybe I should be concerned about the strangers surrounding me, but I am not. I know I can toss this girl over my shoulder in a second and break out of most holds. I can defend myself if needed.
I won’t let fear ruin my night tonight. It’s the same kind of fear my family used to imprison me. The fear of the unknown or the possible dangers lurking. I think my own father was the greatest danger I will ever encounter.
“He hasn’t taken his eyes off you,” she yells in my ear.
I twist to face her again, not sure what she means. Reaching out, I touch a lock of blue hair. Does she know how lucky she is to have that freedom? To have the confidence and the audience to be bold and bright?
I would be lost in a shadowed world of grays.
Something cold touches the back of my neck and I jump in surprise. Water drips down my spine, cooling me down only a fraction. Wide hands grab my hips to turn me around and away from my bold new friend. Pierce’s eyes bore into mine as he runs a cold water bottle over my chest and down my arms. The condensation drips onto my burning skin, and I shiver from the contrasting temperatures.
He twists the top off and presses the bottle to my lips. I drink as he tips it for me, replenishing myself with every sip. He watches my throat as I swallow. I pull back, leaving water to stream down my lip and down my neck. Pierce reaches out, stopping the drop’s path with his fingers. His touch lights my skin on fire, hotter than it was moments before.
Our staring contest is broken when my blue-haired friend grabs my hand and spins me again. My back is pressed against Pierce’s chest as she pins me from the front. My hips start to sway again. Somehow, we are all dancing the same dance. Like it was choreographed and planned, our bodies glide and grind together. I can barely breathe between the both of them, but I don’t want the air. I want to inhale everything about this moment. I never want to forget how unchained and wild I feel in this moment. I can’t forget the way Pierce’s hands skate over my bare shoulder, over my collarbone to my neck. I want to remember the way his fingers close around my throat, pulling my body flush to his.
I leave my eyes open, afraid to miss a single moment. I watch as my own hand touches the girl’s hip so I can keep her close. My other hand reaches behind me and grips Pierce’s hair.
I feel his heavy breathing on my bare shoulder as the girl skims a small hand up my thigh. I’m sandwiched between these two sexy beings, and I love it. Love the rush it gives me. Love the way it makes my heart race and my stomach flip.
Each song blends into the next. The strobe lights become my new sun. The electronic beat of the music becomes my new ocean waves. I feel like I’m floating, and I don’t care that I don’t know how to swim.
There’s a burn where the four hands brand my body. I’m on the verge of overheating when I see someone pushing through the crowd and coming right toward us.
Hans look murderous when he spots us. I feel Pierce’s chest shake with laughter. This only pisses Hans off more as he fights through the tight mob to get to us.
“We gotta run,” Pierce says in my ear.
He grabs my hand and pulls me away from the girl. She winks as we disappear. Hans is shouting for us, getting sucked up in the wave of dancers.
Pierce laughs as we start to run. I’ve never heard him make that sound before, and I almost trip from the shock of it. We push our way outside, gasping in the cool air. I stop to slip off my heels and turn around to find Hans still struggling to catch up.
“Come on!”
Pierce takes my hand again as we run down the street, passing people as they pour out of the various night clubs. We weave between cars and traffic. I’m smiling as we run from Pierce’s own man, but I want to laugh at the irony.
I miss my laugh. The way it sounded and the way it felt to laugh with my sisters. I miss the way it rolled out of me so easily and natural. The vibration in my chest as it breaks free.
We are both panting for air when we reach his building. We practically fall into the lobby and security stares at us as we rush for the elevator. I lean against the cold walls once the elevator doors finally slide closed.
“He’s going to be pissed we went somewhere without him,” Pierce says between a pants.
His smile starts to fade as he looks at me. His eyes narrow on me, and I feel pinned to the elevator wall by just his stare. Slowly, Pierce pushes off the wall and comes to stand in front of me.
“Talk to me.”
I stand straighter so I can look up at him.
“There you go.”
His dark eyes search mine. He leans forward, his lips to my ear.
“I don’t need to hear your voice to know what you’re saying.”
His words and his lips brushing over my skin sends shivers through my body. I know he notices it when one side of his mouth tilts up.
The elevator doors slide open behind him, bringing us back to the present. Pierce slowly backs away from me and into his apartment, and I find myself pushing off the wall to follow automatically.
I follow him down a short hall like there’s an invisible rope between us keeping me tethered to him. The penthouse is dark and quiet, unlike the colorful streets some twenty floors below.
“Here’s your room,” he says, stopping at a door and pushing it open.
I step inside, taking in the view of the city below. I miss the view of the ocean.
“Shiloh.” I turn to face him. “Lock this door behind me. Don’t open it until morning.”
I nod slowly, unsure who I need the protection from.
“If I come knocking, don’t let me in.”
His jaw clenches and he turns to leave. I listen to his footsteps as they carry away from me.
I lock the door, strip out of the dress, and fall onto the bed. Tonight, the sounds of traffic will lull me to sleep.
chapter fifteen
p
ierce
SHE LOCKED THE door. When I walked away from her last night, I almost thought she wouldn’t lock it like I asked.
All night I replay the evening in my head. The way she moved, fearless and graceful. There was something about the way she danced with the other girl that pulled me onto that dance floor. Her body moved with a sexuality and freedom I never saw in her before.
I keep imagining my hands on her body as it pressed against mine. I remember how hot her skin was as my hands skimmed over her. She was wanton and reckless. Beautiful. Intoxicating.
It takes all my willpower to stay in my room and not act on all the things I want to do to her.
She wouldn’t have stopped me. I saw it in her eyes in the elevator and in the club.
I need her to respect me, fear me, and trust me. We can’t have another incident like we had in the office. The moment I lose control with her, she owns me.
“Shiloh! Time to get up,” I shout through the door for the third time this morning.
Hans glares at me from the kitchen. He’s leaning over the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in front of him. The photos and background information of today’s guests are spread out in front of him.
“She will make us late,” he mutters.
“It’s my boat. It will wait for me.”
Hans grunts, still unhappy with me for ditching him the night before. I haven’t sneaked away from a guard since I was sixteen. After meeting with my father yesterday, I wanted to forget. I just needed a few hours where the fate of our empire doesn’t rest on my shoulders.
I am about to go knock again when Shiloh quietly wanders into the kitchen and sits on a stool next to Hans. Her eyes are barely open and she rubs at her temples like it will help the headache I know she has. She’s still dressed in last night’s clothes.
Hans gives her a sideways glance, clearly annoyed and impatient. I make a cup of coffee and slide it to her, along with two pain relievers.
I scroll through her phone while she sips her coffee. The phone is blocked to call or text any other numbers but my own. It’s her browsing history I am interested in.
I glance at Shiloh over the phone while she drinks her coffee with eyes closed. She searched for missing women in Nevada. She wondered if anyone is looking for her.
I find the same sad truth she found. No one is looking for her. I can’t help to ask why.
“We need to be on the boat in a half hour. Clothes are in that suitcase,” I tell her, pointing to the case we had delivered by a personal shopper.
Shiloh tips back her head to swallow the last of her coffee. Surprisingly, she willingly gets up and takes the rolling suitcase to her room.
“Quickly!” Hans shouts after her.
Twenty minutes later, we are in the car weaving through Miami traffic. Shiloh looks the part of a rich, spoiled girlfriend to a corporate tycoon. The light pink dress picked by the shopper hugs her slender body perfectly. The ties of her swim suit peek out at the back of her neck and gold bracelets decorate both wrists. Her long blond hair is loosely braided over one shoulder.
Her leg bounces at a rapid pace as we drive to marina. I smack a hand to her knee, stopping the nervous habit and am rewarded with warm and soft skin under my palm.
“No need to worry. I won’t throw you overboard,” I whisper.
Shiloh puffs out a breath of air and gives me a weak smile.
“Here.” I press her phone into her hand. “Keep this on you.”
Shiloh nods and slips it into a small purse along with her sunblock and sunglasses.
“Your guests are waiting at the dock,” Hans tells me from the front seat. “Plus an extra.”
“Extra?” I question. I invited Harold and his young wife. I don’t like surprises.
“The stepdaughter, sir.”
“Shit.” I can’t turn her away. That would be rude. “Give her the other guest bedroom.”
“And Shiloh?”
I look over at her as she watches the gates to the marina open. Her shoulders relax when she spots the ocean, like it instantly calms whatever is storming inside her.
“She will stay with me. What other choice do we have?”
The car parks and I help Shiloh out. My yacht floats at the end of the dock, looking massive and luxurious. It stands out, stretching longer and higher than any other boat in the marina. The staff and guests are already aboard.
Hans leads us with the luggage as other crew members rush about getting ready to leave the port. Once on board, I see our targets: Harold Mansfield stands with his beautiful wife, sipping a drink already. They look mismatched and unbalanced together. Old with the new. Shiny and gold next to rusty iron.
“Mr. and Mrs. Mansfield, welcome to my home away from home,” I greet them, reaching out to shake hands.
“Please, call me Harold. This is my lovely wife, Ella. And my daughter Clara.”
Clara is only sixteen on paper but looks and acts twenty. Her real birth certificate would make her eighteen but the fake one her mom had made makes her sixteen. That way when Ella married Harold, Clara was also made a citizen.
She is already stripped down to a yellow bikini that I would never let a child of mine wear in public. When I take her hand and press the back of it to my lips, she giggles while pushing her chest out more.
Shiloh glares at her, seeing the act just as I do. Clara is far from an innocent teenager. She knows her body and knows how to use it. I don’t give her my attention a moment longer than necessary. She needs to know she has no power over me.
“This is Shiloh,” I announce.
Harold’s beady eyes roam down her body. I pull her close as she nods politely and shakes hands with everyone. “She doesn’t speak due to a tragic accident when she was a girl.”
Shiloh sighs as the Mansfield family gives her curious stares. Ella mutters something in French to her daughter, and Shiloh tenses next to me. She clearly heard and understood the comment because the muscles in her delicate jaw clench and her fingers curl into fists.
“Sometimes I wish my wife couldn’t speak!” Harold jokes loudly. Ella flashes him a quick glare that she covers with a laugh before he notices.
“How long have you two been together?” Clara asks with a thick accent.
“About a week,” I lie as I hug her closer.
Shiloh gazes up at me, a fake smile on her lips so she looks completely smitten. I see the understanding. Let them think she’s unimportant to me. Shiloh is just another flavor of the week. A sexy toy to dangle on my arm for the weekend at sea.
The captain greets us and tells us we will be departing soon. He starts with a tour of the yacht for Harold and his family. Shiloh and I follow several feet behind, my hand pressed to her lower back.
Everything on this boat was designed by my parents as a twenty-first birthday to me. It has a master bedroom, three guest bedrooms, and rooms for the crew. The living area is state of the art with a flat screen TV, surround sound, and leather couches.
Ella is impressed with the small kitchen with its restaurant-grade appliances. Harold likes the bar on the lower level with a pool table and an aquarium that spans the entire wall.
We end on the top deck where there is an outdoor bar and loungers placed around a hot tub.
“Your things have been placed in your rooms and if we are ready, we will take off,” the captain announces.
A server brings drinks as we leave the marina. Ella and Clara are already lounging in the sun, talking to each other in French.
“Shall we discuss business after dinner?” I ask Harold. “My father says never consider a deal on an empty stomach.”
“Of course! I am dying to know about this opportunity you have to offer,” he boasts as we sit on the couch so we can still see the girls. They are far enough that they won’t hear our discussion.
Shiloh stands back, as if debating on whether to join Ella and Clara. I would imagine it’s difficult to mingle without a voice. Taking a deep breath, she slips the straps of
her dress down her shoulders, letting it fall to her feet.
Harold and Hans stop talking when she steps out of her dress. I suddenly feel too far from her. I want a closer look at her body in the sunlight. I’ve only felt her without seeing. That may have been for the best because if I could see her like this, I would have never stopped myself. Stolen touches.
Hans clears his throat when Shiloh sits down, and I pull my stare away. For the remainder of the afternoon, we drink and talk about trivial things. This is the part where we get Harold to trust us and think of us as friends.
We cut through the ocean, leaving a wake behind us. I keep an eye on Shiloh, and she keeps an eye on the women. Every now and then I get a text message with some kind of intel.
Shiloh: Clara is kinda promiscuous and her boobs are fake.
Me: You have no idea how valuable this info is.
I see her smile across the deck, picking up on my sarcasm.
Shiloh: Ella steals. Even though he gives her plenty of money, she shoplifts anything she can. Her sunglasses for example.
Me: Okay. This is actually slightly useful.
I watch her sitting in the lounge chair, seemingly playing on her phone and ignoring everyone around her. I like the idea of her helping me out. Hans is a big guy and never blends in. Shiloh discreetly becomes my sidekick. Easily ignored and invisible.
The sun starts to set and the staff joins us on the deck to set the table. I lose Shiloh in the commotion. I head to the master bedroom to see if she went to change. When I don’t find her there, I pull out my phone to see she already messaged me.
Shiloh: Harry is having sex his stepdaughter.
Me: What?! How the fuck do you know this? Why are you calling him Harry?
Shiloh: Because I watched them go into the bathroom and now she is moaning “Oh HARRY.”
Me: Stay there.
I shove my phone in my pocket and head toward the main bathroom on the main level. As I come up the steps my phone beeps again.
Shiloh: Ella knows and doesn’t care because she’s having an affair with Harry’s son from his first marriage.
I come up on the top floor and find Shiloh leaning against the wall, looking at her phone. She’s wrapped in a towel and her hair is still wet. Sure as shit, moans and thumping can be heard from the bathroom.
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