Disgraced

by Natasha Knight

  He closed the door behind him. A few minutes later, I heard the shower go on.

  I sat up and shook my head, confused.

  Hurt.

  He regretted it.

  Shoving the covers off, I dressed quickly and grabbed my coat and purse. I paused then, glancing at his wallet on the table. I had no money. I needed to get home, and I had no money. Alexi controlled everything, and…No. I couldn’t think of Alexi now.

  Feeling like the lowest of the low, I opened his wallet and took out a $50 bill. I slipped out of the room, ran down the stairs, and out the door, where I hailed a taxi. I climbed in and gave the driver my address. I didn’t look back as the cab drove away, wiping stray tears away instead.

  What had I expected? A declaration of love?

  Why had he done it? Why had he even started it? He had no business starting something he had no intention of finishing.

  My cell phone rang a moment later. I reached into my purse to take it out. Damon. Of course. I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to talk to him. I sent a quick text, knowing he’d come after me if I didn’t.

  “I’ll save you a trip. I’m in a taxi heading home. I don’t want to see you, Damon. And I’ll assume you won’t say a word to Sofia about having run into me, considering. Have a good life.”

  Then, feeling guilty about the money, I sent a second text.

  “Borrowed money for cab fare. Forgot my wallet. I’ll send you a check.”

  I switched it off, knowing he’d call again.

  When I arrived at the brownstone, it was a little after two in the morning. I paid the driver and climbed out, feeling a momentary panic that Alexi was back in town. He liked to drop by unexpectedly. Fucking jerk. I don’t know why he bothered. It wasn’t like I was ever going to give him what he wanted.

  The day his father, Sergei, had been arrested, he’d transferred the club’s title to Alexi. I didn’t understand why but was sure it had to do with the charges and with protecting assets. I knew who Sergei Markov was when I first came to New York and sought him out. Knew what kind of business he ran, the things he’d done. But he’d been different than I’d expected. And to me, he’d always been kind. Maybe I was blind, or desperate, but he’d accepted me, and in a way, he’d taken me in. Back then, I’d needed that more than I realized. Maybe growing up with a cold substitute for a father had done that to me. Had made me willing to overlook terrible things.

  He’d lent me money to get set up when I’d first come here. He’d also let me live in the apartment until I found something else. Thing was, I’d never been in a rush to move out. He claimed he wanted me there—better than leaving it empty, he’d said—and I had accepted the offer, always telling myself I’d look for something else soon.

  When Sergei was arrested and Alexi stepped into the picture, though, everything changed.

  Alexi had accused me of stealing from his father, of seducing him and tricking him into giving me money, a place to stay. He’d made me an alternate offer. Fuck him, and he’d treat my loan like any bank would. Don’t, and pay him back at an exorbitant interest rate, which he and I both knew I’d never be able to do.

  Since I didn’t take him up on his first offer, he insisted I stay on at the club and the apartment, claiming he needed to be sure he got his money back. When I’d made the mistake of reminding him it was his father’s money, he’d slapped me so hard, I’d had to cover the bruise on my face for more than a week. His private bodyguard, Maxx, had been there. He’d caught me when I’d fallen, but he’d made no move to protect me. Instead, he’d stood me back up, so I could take more.

  Alexi hadn’t hit me again, though.

  He’d repeated his offer. I’d politely declined him again and agreed to the arrangement. Now, I worked—essentially for food—because he skimmed so much off my paycheck that I barely had enough to get back and forth to the club.

  I knew all along it wasn’t about money. Alexi hated his father. He wanted Sergei to be crucified. Because only then could he take over the family business. The fact that I had a special relationship with his father baffled him. I still wasn’t sure he believed it wasn’t sexual. His small brain couldn’t process a relationship based on anything else, I guess. I wasn’t even sure if he wanted me because he was attracted to me or to take one more thing from his father. I did know, however, how dangerous Alexi Markov was. And the thought of Damon crossing his path scared the crap out of me.

  A glance up and down the street told me he wasn’t there. Maxx usually waited outside in his ridiculously oversize SUV, sometimes blocking the street while Alexi was inside.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, I fished out my keys and went into the building, up the flight of stairs to the second floor, and into my apartment. After closing the door, I slid off my coat and shoes, set my purse on the table, and switched on the light.

  The moment I did, I let out a small scream.

  “You’re going to wake the fucking neighbors.”

  Alexi sat in the center of the couch in the dark, arms spread wide across the back of it, looking pissed off.

  “Shit, Alexi. You scared the crap out of me!” Best to act like nothing was out of the ordinary.

  “Where were you?” he asked, rolling his r’s. He’d grown up in some small Russian town, and no matter how long he lived here, his accent lingered. Strangely enough, it was worse than Sergei’s, but that’s probably because Sergei hadn’t found out he even had a son until Alexi was ten. He’d brought him to the States then, but the accent stuck.

  I went into the kitchen to get a bottle of water, not wanting him to see my face. “Getting drinks with a girlfriend.”

  “You don’t have friends.”

  I leaned my back against the counter, staying in the kitchen and watching him through the opening at the bar. “I have friends.”

  “Who?”

  “The girls I used to work with.” Before working at Club Carmen, I’d waitressed at a cheap motel restaurant for all of five weeks. I’d hated every minute of it, but it paid for my cot in the apartment I shared with six others. The conditions had been awful, but it was better than this, wasn’t it? Better than having to answer to a killer. “I was wound up after work, so I went out there, and we had some drinks. That’s all. Why do you care, Alexi? Why are you here sitting in the dark?”

  He rose to his feet. My heart raced as he approached, and I wondered if he’d smell sex on me. If he’d smell Damon on me.

  My chest tightened at the thought of Damon.

  Alexi came right up to me, the toes of his shoes pressing against my bare feet. I hadn’t bothered to put my stockings back on before leaving. I’d just wanted to get out of there before the humiliation of having Damon take me home. Alexi now stood close enough that I felt his body heat and hoped my face didn’t betray my panic.

  He looked me over slowly, his gaze settling on my lips for a moment. He then inhaled deeply.

  “I smell a lie, Kat.”

  Kat. I’d forgotten he called me Kat. I’d become Lina again, the very moment I’d seen Damon.

  “Liars tell lies,” he continued. “I don’t like liars, you know that, don’t you?”

  “Your sense of smell is off,” I said, somehow sounding a thousand times more casual than I felt. I stepped around him and went into the living room to look through the mail I’d stacked on the coffee table. “I’m not lying.” Dropping the envelopes back on the side table, I faced him. “Listen, I’m tired. It’s been a long night. What can I do for you, Alexi?”

  At that he grinned. “You can take off that dress for starters.” For a moment, I wondered if he actually thought he had a chance with me. If he thought I was remotely interested. But then his expression changed. “You know you’re supposed to leave those dresses at the club. Uniforms aren’t personal property.”

  “Are you serious?”

  He stalked into the living room and stood just close enough that I knew how much bigger than me he was. How much stronger. How much more dangerous.


  “Those are designer. They’re expensive. You can’t afford to damage one and have to owe me even more than you already do, can you?”

  My jaw tightened. This wasn’t about the dress. It was about humiliating me.

  “Can you, Kat? Can you afford to owe me another penny?”

  “No.”

  “Take it off.”

  I took a step to walk into the bedroom and change, but he grabbed my arm.

  “Here.”

  I studied his cold eyes, blue, like Damon’s, but so fucking different. Inhuman. Dead. I reached to take down the straps, pulled the dress off, and stepped out of it. Second time tonight. I held it out to him, not covering myself even though I stood in just a pair of panties. I wouldn’t show him he’d won, that he’d humiliated me.

  Alexi’s grin widened, and he slowly dragged his gaze over me.

  “The panties are mine,” I said, breaking into his power play. “Take the dress and go. I need to get to bed.”

  His eyes narrowed, and as he reached to take the dress, he gripped my wrist. “Offer to work a party still stands,” he said. “You’d be done paying me in a third of the time. And if you wanted to be done at once, well, you know what I require.”

  “No thanks. On both counts.”

  He released my wrist and walked away, taking his coat, which he’d hung over the back of a chair.

  “Don’t be so hasty to answer.”

  He opened the door but turned to look me over once more.

  “You could make a lot of money, Lina. I know many men and women who’d pay handsomely to have you on your knees—”

  “Get out.”

  “Are you kicking me out of my own house?”

  He loved to lord it over me. “It’s your father’s house.”

  His mouth tightened, and his hand fisted.

  “How’s your sister, by the way? Belly swelling with those sweet, tiny little babies?”

  I stared at him, anger turning to something else. Fear.

  Swallowing my pride, I bowed my head. “I’m just tired, Alexi. Thanks for coming to pick up the dress I borrowed. I won’t let it happen again.”

  That seemed to satisfy him because when I looked up, he was smiling victoriously.

  “Almost forgot. There was a reason I dropped by. Leslie’s sick. I don’t think she’ll be able to make the party tomorrow night. I’m going to need you to take her place serving.”

  “I told you, I’m not interested in working a party—”

  “Relax. I’m talking about serving drinks. Not your pussy.”

  I guess it was shock at his language that silenced me, giving him that second he needed before I told him no.

  “After your shift on piano.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew his wallet, took out some bills, and tossed them on the table. “Make sure everything’s taken care of, Kat. My guests pay for the cream of the crop.”

  I glanced at the bills on the table, feeling like a whore for the second time that night. Even if I wasn’t fucking him, it’s what everyone thought, wasn’t it? His whore to display and humiliate.

  “You’re a good girl, Kat. You just need to learn when to bow down. I’ll teach you. My father spoiled you, but I’ll teach you yet.”

  We stood facing each other another moment before he finally walked out. I locked the door behind him, leaning against it, breathing hard. I hated him. I hated Alexi. I hated that I had gotten myself into this mess with him, because he wasn’t ever going to let me go. He would always come up with something, some other thing I owed him. And the threat of hurting not only me but my family gave him power over me. There was no way out. Not until he tired of me. I’d thought about giving in, about letting him have me, letting him get bored of me, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

  Would that even be enough anymore anyway? He wouldn’t be satisfied until I crawled at his feet, kissing the underside of his shoe for all the world to see.

  Did I expect Damon to chase me back to the apartment? Had I expected him to come the following morning? Because he didn’t do either of those things. I turned my phone back on late the next afternoon to find I had four messages. I dialed my voice mail to hear Sofia on the first one.

  “Hey sis. It’s been a while. I know you’re busy with school and all, but give me a call. I’m bored to tears lying here all day. I hate bedrest. Hate it. Talk to you soon? Please? Pretty please?”

  I smiled, but guilt quickly wiped that smile off my face. I’d been lying to Sofia for more than a year. What a jerk I was. All she wanted was the best for me, and I flat-out lied to her. The least I could do would be to call her. At least I knew Damon hadn’t told her about running into me. Was it because of my message the night before? Was he forced to keep my secret, now that last night had happened?

  The phone went on to the next message. My heartbeat picked up when I heard his voice, deep and dark and worried.

  “Lina. Fuck! You were supposed to wait for me to take you home. Answer your fucking phone. You know I don’t like you out there on your own so late at night.”

  A few minutes later:

  “We need to talk. Can’t just bury your head.”

  A few minutes after that:

  “Look, I have to go to Florida tomorrow. I’ll be back in two days. I’m coming to see you then. It’ll give us both a chance to think. Lina…I’m sorry about how things…about everything. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Too late.”

  I deleted all the messages, regretting it the moment I did. But I wiped my eyes and got up. I had a party to attend tonight. Maybe Alexi was right. Maybe I should just work them, work these parties and pay him off. I had options. I didn’t have to whore myself out. I could serve, like I’d be doing when covering for Leslie tonight. Or I could agree to his other offer. The one that would wipe out my debt in one night. Public submission. Public punishment. Publicly being made to kneel. It wasn’t like I knew these people. Although I wouldn’t know if that was true. Guests wore masks.

  The one party I’d attended had been months ago. He’d hired me as pianist and warned me I may see things that might shock me. Even his warning, though, hadn’t prepared me for that night, and the few things I’d seen were from behind a gauzy screen separating me from the room. At least Alexi had made sure everyone knew I was off-limits, but would he do that again? Would he protect me again? And who’d protect me from him?

  Damon.

  No. No way. I had to get that thought out of my head before it ever took root there. Alexi already suspected something with me. If he found out about Damon, he’d hurt him. No, I’d keep Damon far away from Alexi. And that was exactly why it was better for Damon to go away anyway. To not pursue anything. Hell, I should thank him. He was saving me the trouble of concocting more lies to make him leave me alone.

  Later that night, I forced myself to eat dinner, even though I didn’t have much of an appetite. I played to a full club but made several mistakes as I kept searching the crowd, hoping to see Damon’s face. Hoping, stupidly, that he’d come for me.

  My shift ended early, and another pianist, a man in his fifties, took over as I disappeared into the staff area. We all knew the private parties existed, and anyone who’d attended one in any capacity was made to sign a nondisclosure agreement, which also stipulated there could be no conversations about the parties between attending staff. We all just had to pretend they didn’t happen. Pretend to un-see things that couldn’t be unseen.

  Alexi’s father owned the building where Club Carmen was located. The parties took place upstairs, in the penthouse. I made my way up at a little after eleven, following the instructions left for me in my locker to the letter: enter through the door designated for servers. Wash any makeup off my face and change into the uniform—which made me laugh. By uniform, Alexi usually meant naked. Or almost so. The last time, servers had worn thongs to distinguish them from those available for use. You didn’t want some guest mixing it up.

  After changing, we were to wait in the de
signated room.

  When I arrived, six others were already there. All but one were female. I got a glimpse of the uniform upon entering: a gold thong, a gold lace mask with eyes cut out, and gold platform pumps. Oh good.

  I washed off my makeup and tried to pretend I wasn’t standing in a room full of people as I stripped off my clothes, slid on my thong, and put the mask in place over my eyes. Another door opened, and two women entered rolling a table into the room between them. No one spoke. That was another rule. Absolutely no talking. I wondered what Alexi would do or how he’d even know if anyone broke that rule, but no one whispered a word.

  The women started with the person closest to them, taking her to a corner that had been screened off. She stepped behind it, and we all watched that screen as silence permeated the room. Ten minutes later, the girl reemerged. She looked stunning. Every inch of her was covered in gold from the top of her head to the tips of her platforms. She stood against a wall with her arms stretched out. I guess the gold they used had to dry? She looked ridiculous. But maybe this was part of Alexi’s plan anyway. He liked the servants to know they were beneath him. That he could and would humiliate them at every turn.

  The next girl followed, and we waited. I wondered about the single male server who had a face that was almost pretty. When it was his turn, he put on the platforms like the rest of us and went behind the curtain, emerging ten minutes later covered in gold. I was the last to go. Behind the curtain, I stretched out my arms and spread my legs and the women painted every unmarked inch of me, working together like they’d done this a hundred times before. And when I was finished, I glanced at the mirror almost not recognizing myself. My tattoos remained untouched, and I knew they wouldn’t go unnoticed in the next room. A special instruction from Alexi, I was sure. I would be wondering who’d seen me here every time I played piano at the club, and I already felt my face burn with embarrassment.

  Music began to play in the main room, which meant the party had begun. I picked up a tray of filled champagne flutes and followed the others out. The room, much like the rooms at the club downstairs, were softly lit, a reddish tint that softened and made everything more beautiful. There were about seventy-five, maybe one hundred guests, and although one of the rules for servers was that we kept our eyes lowered, I snuck glances, unable to keep from looking at the masked faces, the elaborate, over-the-top dresses of the women, the sometimes frightening masks of the men. I felt gazes following me the whole time, and I may as well have been naked for all the thong covered.