by Hamel, B. B.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 B. B. Hamel.
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Prologue
I went to college to get away from drama.
But in Vegas, with my mom’s new crazy antics swirling in my mind, I was ready for a little trouble. I must have lost my mind.
Because when I saw him, I knew what sort of trouble I was about to get into.
Cocky and muscular, wearing an expensive suit, he swept right into my life like a hurricane. In the back of his limo, right before making the dumbest decision of my life, I felt his breath hot against my neck.
I want to see you wearing only diamonds, he whispered.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Did that line work on other girls?
It’s not a line. I want to taste that soaking pussy while you’re wearing millions.
Sex and money. Was that all he thought about?
Sex, money, and violence, girl. Get used to it.
His fingers roamed down along my body, and I felt a chill run down my spine. I gasped when his lips found my throat, his rough hands along my thighs. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the excitement of all the wealth, but I couldn’t help myself.
Truthfully, it was just him. His cocky smile, his body, his lips.
I wanted him to touch me. I wanted him to explore me.
He pressed my legs open, almost roughly, his hands suddenly on my soaking pussy.
I knew you were begging for it, he whispered in my ear.
His fingers did things I’d never, ever forget. My hands pressed against the glass of the limo, sweat rolling down my back, I bit my lip and stared into his eyes.
Good, girl. Watch while I get you off. I want to see your pretty face say my name.
He had me. In that moment, he had me completely.
“Lucas,” I said, over and over.
His wicked grin. So violent. So damn sexy.
I’d never forget that smile, even when it started to mean something completely different.
Chapter One: Natalie
I never wanted to be famous.
But when your mother inherits a fortune, loses it over the course of a few years, and then goes on a string of awful reality TV shows, it’s hard to avoid the cameras, at least to some degree.
Truthfully, I’m not famous, not really. My mother, on the other hand, is a minor celebrity and appears in gossip rags pretty regularly. Headlines like “Socialite Mother Snorts Coke for Days” or “Camille Taylor Seen Stripping for Cash” were not unusual. Sure, most of it was bull, but still, it was not exactly healthy trying to grow up a normal teenager when your mom was out running around all the time.
Which was why I got out of her house as soon as humanly possible. I got accepted into the University of Texas, packed my bags, and tried to pretend like I had never lived in Chicago and had never heard of Camille Taylor.
The thing about the past, though, is you can never escape it. Especially when it’s your mom.
“Don’t let it ruin your trip,” Pacey said.
“I’m not,” I grumbled, tossing the magazine across the room.
“Come on, look outside.” She walked over to the window and opened the curtains. “We’re in freaking Vegas!”
I sighed, nodding. The school year had just ended, and Pacey and I had decided we were going to treat ourselves for getting through another brutal semester.
Really, neither of us wanted to go home. Pacey didn’t get along well with her dad, and I intensely disliked my mother. So instead of heading right back to another rough summer of being trapped in our respective parental homes, we’d decided on a few days of debauchery.
Although debauchery wasn’t really my thing. I never thought I’d end up in Vegas, let alone dressed up in one of the sexiest dresses I owned. The plan was to hit the strip, maybe go to a casino and see where the night took us.
Instead, I had to be an idiot and buy a gossip rag. I knew I might find something about my mother in there, and I knew that might ruin my good mood, but I did it anyway.
And of course, there she was: Camilla Taylor, big-time socialite, laughingstock of the world.
I was so embarrassed that I could die.
“Don’t let your asshole mother ruin this,” Pacey said again.
“Okay, okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”
“Hell yeah!” Pacey poured us both another shot, and we knocked them back. I made a face, shaking my head.
I was nothing like my mother. Where she loved to party, I preferred quiet nights. Where her whole job was acting like an idiot on television, I hoped to be a lawyer one day. I liked stability and normal, serious things, whereas she was only interested in frivolous parties, cute clothes, and rich boys.
I followed Pacey out into the hallway and down the elevator, giggling as we went. I had never been to Vegas before, and it was totally not normally my thing. The flashing lights, the seedy underbelly, it all was another world. I thought of myself as a serious student trying to get out from under an embarrassing mother. Getting caught doing something stupid in Vegas was the last thing I needed.
But I worked hard and I deserved a little fun. Or at least that was what Pacey said. Without her, I would have probably ended up right at home as soon as the semester had ended, hiding up in my room.
Instead, Vegas. We moved through the streets, gaping at the hotels, at the action. It was amazing, and I had to admit that I was already beginning to forget all about my mom.
“Come on,” Pacey said, grabbing my arm. “Let’s gamble our meager savings away.”
I laughed. “Maybe not all of it, okay?”
“Nope. Every penny. I’m putting it all on black.”
“I am not bailing you out, Pacey.”
“Good! I’ll become a lady of the night.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You don’t have the tits for that.”
She frowned, looking down at her chest. “They may be small, but they’re proud.”
“True. You have very proud boobs.”
We laughed as we stumbled into a casino. Pacey led the way, taking us over toward the blackjack table.
“Now,” she said softly, “we have to act like we belong, okay? Try and be serious.”
I nodded. “Serious. Got it.”
We bought some chips and then sat down at the table. Pacey seemed to know what she was doing, and I was mostly watching. She was the image of a serious player, keeping a straight face and nodding respectfully to the other players.
And as soon as she won her first hand, she started screaming with joy.
“Hell yeah!” she whooped. “Getting rich tonight, baby!”
An older man at the end of the table gave her a dirty look. She flipped him off.
“So much for being serious,” I said to her, laughing.
She shrugged. “We’re here to have fun, remember?”
I watched her gamble like that for the next hour or so. I didn’t bother putting any money down since Pacey was doing enough for the both of us. She was up and she was down, and by the end of the second hour, she was back to being about even.
Finally, Pacey walked away from her third different poker table. “Let’s get out of here,” she said.
“Tired of losing money?”
She shook her head. “Never tired of that. No, I just want to dance.”
“That’s the most cliché girl thing ever. You just wa
nt to dance?”
“Ugh, girl, listen. I just want to dance. That’s all.”
I laughed as she began to shake her ass. “Okay, stop it. People are staring.”
“Come on, we’re supposed to be loosening up, right? Twerk with me girl.”
I laughed and shook my head, backing up. She did have a point, though. We were supposed to be having fun, loosening up. We were supposed to be forgetting about all our troubles. So why couldn’t I relax like Pacey could?
Eventually she stopped twerking and we were off, trying to find a club. It didn’t take long, considering Vegas is literally covered by them. We got lucky and the bouncer thought Pacey was hot, so he let us skip the line and head right in.
The place was booming. People in expensive clothes were all over the place.
“Looks like we chose wisely,” Pacey said.
“I feel underdressed.”
“You look hot as shit. Come on.”
We went to the bar and ordered drinks.
“You almost ready to loosen up?” she yelled over the music.
“Fine, okay? Fine!” Our drinks appeared and Pacey held hers up.
“To having a good time.”
“And to forgetting about my insane mother.”
“Cheers to that.” We clinked glasses and I drank.
The music was deep and loud, filling the space. We finished off our drinks and headed out to the dance floor.
Pacey was right. I needed to relax, to have some fun. I lived so much of my life trying not to be like my mother, always saying no to things, always trying to be responsible. For once in my life, I was going to be reckless. I was going to say yes to everything that happened, and I was going to have a good time.
Pacey and I hit the floor, dancing. It felt good to finally decide to let my guard down, to finally relax. I was a little buzzed, but definitely not drunk. Some guys came up and hit on us, but Pacey chased them off with some seriously targeted dirty looks.
“No grade D beef,” she yelled in my ear. “We’re looking for a filet.”
“Why the meat metaphor?” I called back.
“Do you really need to ask?”
I made a face and shook my head. She laughed loudly and twirled me, giggling. I could feel the music getting into me, making me feel loose and good. Everyone around us was dancing wildly, couples grinding, everyone young and sexy. Most people had a drink in their hand, and I felt like I could finally blend into the crowd.
Pacey grabbed me and twirled me again, sending me stumbling a few steps away.
She yelled something, but I didn’t hear her. It was lost in the music.
I looked across the floor.
That was the first time I saw him. I caught his eye, completely by mistake, and that mistake would change my life.
It felt like a chill ran down my spine. His face was chiseled and his eyes were a slate blue, his dark hair cut short. He was wearing a suit tailored perfectly for his muscular body, and his full, perfect lips turned up into a slight grin as he returned my look.
Then Pacey was back, dancing with me again.
I shook my head, getting the man’s image out of my mind. There were hundreds of people in the club, so I figured I’d never see him again.
I was so, absolutely wrong.
Five minutes later, I felt someone’s hand at the small of my back. I saw Pace’s face begin to contort into her normal dirty look, but she suddenly stopped. I turned and looked.
It was him, the man in the suit. He smirked down at me. “Dance?” he asked.
I looked at Pacey. She just stared, dumbfounded.
I knew I had already made the decision as soon as I felt his hand on me. It sent shivers along my back, and one glance in his eyes only confirmed it. He was stunning, handsome, and serious looking, the kind of guy I always imagined but never actually met.
And I had decided to say yes. No more avoiding fun because I was scared of being like my mother.
“Okay,” I said.
He pressed his body against mine. Pacey melted away into the crowd, disappearing from view. For some reason I didn’t care, though, and I began to dance with my handsome stranger.
“I saw you staring at me,” he said in my ear.
“I wasn’t staring.”
“You were. It’s okay. I like that you want me.”
“I don’t want you.” He was being so forward, so cocky.
“What’s your name?”
“Natalie.”
“Natalie. I’m Lucas Barone.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
I could feel his cocky smirk against my ear. “I know it is.”
We kept dancing, our bodies pressed together.
I had no clue what I was getting myself into. I didn’t care, and I refused to think about it. Instead, I was letting myself have fun, letting myself finally relax.
And Lucas seemed nice.
Handsome and confident, maybe even cocky, but nice.
Boy was I so wrong about that.
“You know you’re the sexiest thing in here?” he said to me. “That dress makes me want to tear it off. It makes me want to taste you,” he said. As we danced, he said things to me that nobody had ever said before, things that made my knees feel weak and my body feel electric.
Finally, after what felt like forever, when he asked if I wanted to see more of the strip, I knew I should say no.
He was a total stranger. I didn’t know him. But he was so confident, so cocky, and he had that irresistible swagger and body.
So instead of doing the responsible thing, the right thing, I said yes. I sent a quick text to Pacey, and then I let him take me by the waist and lead me out into the cool Vegas night.
I didn’t expect the limo. Or the bodyguards.
I didn’t expect anything at all.
How could I have known?
Chapter Two: Lucas
“You’ve been a liability for this family for too long, Lucas.”
I stared at the old man, keeping my face passive, trying not to let him know how much he disgusted me. The room smelled like polished wood and cigar smoke, just like he did.
“You think you can take over the business the way you’ve been behaving?”
“I’m efficient.” I smiled slightly.
“You’re brutal and violent. That’s what the captains say, at least. Yes, you get your job done, and you often do it very well. But you bring far too much attention to the family and you know it.”
It was the same argument I had heard time and time again.
My father was old. He was part of the old guard, and he was getting up there in years. No matter how many young girlfriends he had, he was still an old man.
“You need to settle down,” he said. “You need to become a respectable man.”
“I have respect,” I said softly.
“Not the kind that I care about.”
I wasn’t interested in my father’s respect. I had the respect of the bosses, of the muscle, of the captains. And if not their respect, then their fear. I ran my operation seriously and brutally, and nobody questioned me.
Nobody except my father, the head of the Barone Crime Family.
“Son, you cannot take over my position the way you’ve been acting. It simply cannot happen.”
I sneered at him. How dare he tell me that I couldn’t take over the business? I’d been running the business essentially single-handedly while he grew fat on his lazy ass. I was out in the streets hustling for him, for the business, day in and day out. Maybe he disagreed with my methods, but the results spoke for themselves.
“You can’t stop this, old man,” I said.
“I can,” he answered, his anger rising. “And I will. Unless you do as I tell you.”
“And what do you want me to do, father?”
“Get married.”
I stared at him, surprised. “Married? Are you joking?”
He sighed. “You’re too wild, Lucas. You’re running around as if you’re
invincible. You need a family to soften you, to make you into a true businessman.”
I laughed out loud at the absurdity and the hypocrisy. “You’ve been single for years, father, and you think I need a wife?”
“Your mother passed, God bless her soul.” He paused, smiling. “But I’m not single any more.”
That gave me pause. “What are you talking about?”
“This has not been made public yet, but it will soon. Do you remember Camilla?”
I nodded. “Of course. That two-bit reality TV star you were banging.”
The anger returned. “She’s your stepmother now, and you’ll respect her.”
I gaped, not sure whether I wanted to laugh or yell. How could the old man be so fucking stupid? Camilla Taylor was a notorious party girl and socialite, despite being a mother and in her forties. Despite her being twenty years younger than my father, she had also already inherited one fortunate and had completely spent it all on expensive clothes, houses, and cars.
She was a gold digger. Everyone knew that. Everyone except my father, apparently.
“Now that I am married, you will be too,” he continued. “If you wish to inherit my position, you will be married soon.”
I stood up, shaking my head in disgust. “I can’t believe you’d fall for a vapid gold digger like Camilla Taylor.”
He pounded a fist on his desk. “Do not speak of her that way again, Lucas. Do you hear me?”
“I hear only the blustering of a dried-up old man.”
“You will get married!” he yelled after me as I left his office. “You will settle down or get cut out!”
As I walked through the halls of our family estate on the affluent outskirts of Chicago, his words kept ringing in my ears.
The old fool wanted me to get married. He thought marriage could settle me down, but he was wrong.
I didn’t care about marriage. I took the women I wanted and moved on, always a new one. I’d never met a woman that could slow me down for a single second.
I simply possessed what I wanted. I couldn’t imagine tying myself down with marriage.
And yet, the old man still was in charge of the Family, as much as I hated to admit it. One day he’d be too old and infirm to do much, but he was still respected enough to keep control.