by Harper Sloan
“Gentleman of Syn. It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. The one your dicks have been begging for all fucking night. The Princess of Syn herself. The one and only, Rose!”
The Princess of Syn? What an idiot. I laugh to myself, placing my beer to my lips for a long pull. The music starts and the first few notes of Lollipop by Framing Hanley fill the air. Got to give this chick props—at least she picked a good song.
The house lights go down, plunging the room into darkness, before a spotlight hits the main stage. The smoke clinging to the air gives the stage an eerie glow. I take my eyes off the action and attempt scan the darkness of the room again for Emmy. Movement by the back corner catches my attention at the same time that the crowd goes electric. Idiots start throwing their money left and right, calling to this Princess of Syn to take them.
What morons.
I focus on the corner again and see the blonde from earlier smiling her wicked smile at me before pointing to the stage. Turning back to the stage, I watch as a woman, who I assume is this so-called princess, spins effortlessly on the pole, her movements all but blurring her body from the men wishing she were spinning on their dicks. It doesn’t take me long to see why the bitch from earlier is telling me to look.
With one quick spin, her hands are placed at the center and her legs are spread wide and parallel to the pole, showing off her barely there G-sting, I see my Emmy. It takes a second for the shock to wear off, and in that second, she gracefully drops from her spin with a guarded smile to the men crowding the stage. Lifting her small hands from her side, she drags them up her flat stomach to take her tits in hand and jiggles them.
Fucking jiggles them.
I can’t control my body at this point. I’m focused on one thing—the best way to get her off that stage and out of this place.
She reaches up and, in a move that is obviously practiced, removes her top, throwing it in to the crowd. There she dances with her body on display, caressing her naked tits until her nipples pebble. Turning her back to the room, she bends at the waist and starts to slowly pull her G-sting down her long, toned legs.
This is when the reality of this situation hits me. I’ll fucking kill all of these motherfuckers in the room.
Then she drops to her knees before getting on all fours and crawling towards the end of the stage.
Hell. No.
I’m on my feet in seconds, stalking through the crowd, pushing any man who stands in the way of my woman and me. I don’t even lift my arms from my side. I just barrel through the bodies with one goal in mind.
She doesn’t see me coming since she’s back on her feet and walking to the pole again. With a leap that would make my high school track coach proud, I’m on the stage, and a second later, I have a naked Emmy thrown over my shoulders before I jump off the stage. The sharp pain up my leg does nothing to extinguish my determination.
I can see the bouncers coming, and with one hand on her slick ass, I reach out and punch the first one in the face, taking great pleasure watching him instantly buckle to the floor. The other one comes at me from the side, but he doesn’t get far before I pick up the chair to my left one-handed and crack it against his fucking head.
Emmy is struggling with such vigor that I’m forced to put her down. She looks up, ready to spit fire at me, before snapping her mouth shut when she sees the expression on my face. I have no doubt that I look just as feral as I feel.
“Don’t you open that sweet fucking mouth, Emersyn. I swear to Christ, now is not the time to fucking piss me off any further.”
I rip my shirt off and roughly pull it over her head. She struggles and puts up a fight, momentarily distracting me from the third bouncer coming at full throttle. His fist takes me by surprise, but not for long. Grabbing her wrist so she doesn’t get away, I turn to the motherfucker stupid enough to get in my way.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I seethe.
He goes to punch me again, but I duck and pop up before he realizes he failed. Bringing my head forward, I head-butt him right between the eyes and almost smile when he falls instantly.
I’m stopped at the door by the last bartender she was speaking with earlier. He goes to make a move but pulls up when he sees the look in my eyes. I’ll fucking kill and I’m sure it’s written clear as day on my face.
“Do it. I dare you.” My tone leaves no room for argument. I’m leaving with her and there isn’t a person on this Earth who can stop me.
CHAPTER 1
Emmy
Past
“No. No, Emersyn. You can’t spin like that. If you don’t center your balance, the first thing that you’ll end up doing is face-planting on the stage. You have to grip it like this,” Ivy huffs with frustration.
We’ve been going over this damn trick for the last two hours. She’s frustrated that I can’t seem to pick it up. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I can. I just don’t want to. For some reason, I love annoying the hell out of her.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been being ‘groomed’ to become the Princess of Syn, the strip club my parents own. Great parenting, right? Who has their kid doing pole tricks at ten? My parents do—that’s who. They had me in just about every normal dance class I could take since I was old enough to move. Then it was time to learn the ‘money makers,’ as they call it. To them, this is completely normal. And this weekend, everything changes. I just turned twenty-one, and according to my mother, Ivy, it’s time for me to stop serving the patrons and earn my keep.
“And remember, Emersyn, when you’re on stage, you need to show them everything they’re going to be begging for. No more of that shy shit. You already have The Ram pissed because you won’t take the stage if he’s in the room.”
“Uh, seriously? Why would I take my clothes off if my father is in the room? You two are so jacked up.”
Ivy squints her eyes at me. She hates it when I talk back. And she really hates that I refuse to do certain things when my own father is in the room. I’m sorry, but owner or not, there is no way I’m getting naked when The Ram—what Daddy dearest himself makes me call him—is in the room. That’s just a whole level of icky that I don’t want to deal with. It’s bad enough that my mother has been teaching me how to take my clothes off and seduce men for years.
“Don’t be an ungrateful brat, Emersyn. This whole place will be yours one day. These girls all see you and wish they could have parents that would hand them the world!” she screeches in my face. “Do the trick. And do it right this time or I’ll have The Ram come in here and set you straight.”
“Whatever,” I mutter under my breath and roll my eyes.
Reaching up, I grasp the pole with both hands, careful to place them so that I have the most support for my small frame. Luckily, I was blessed with a body that makes this somewhat easier. I’m short, but what I lack in height I make up for in legs. My mother always said that I was lucky to have such great waist-huggers. Jesus, it’s a miracle I’m not completely screwed up with the douche twins as my parents. After centering my body, I give a slight bounce, lifting my body horizontal to the stage, and use my momentum to spin. I hook one of my legs around the pole, using the heel of my five-inch stilettos to keep my balance.
“Come on, Emersyn. Use those abs and curl up. That’s it. Now, grip it again with your hands before you spin out.”
I can hear the pride in Ivy’s voice from the fact that her daughter has mastered the trick she seems to think she’s made famous. Really, I just climbed the damn pole with my legs and ground my vagina on the rod. It’s gross. And I hate every second of it.
Right before I’m about to end the trick and land on my feet, I feel his eyes on me. Shawn. My father’s head of security and, as I’ve been told by my mother and father . . . my future. The Ram’s been grooming Shawn right alongside me so that he can marry his daughter off and sit back to enjoy his douchebaggery. Really, those two combined have a level of douchiness that could clean a vagina better than Summer’s Eve.
I’ve hated Shawn since the first day his perverted eyes basically undressed my ten-year-old body. He is fifteen years older than I am, and there is nothing that makes him craving me as a young girl okay. It only continued to get worse the older I got. The Ram didn’t even blink when I told him that Shawn had tried to force himself on me one day. He literally laughed in my face and told me, ‘Well, Emersyn, do you blame him?’
Shawn would maybe be a somewhat attractive man if it weren’t for the fact that he looks like a mob lord. He’s a good foot taller than my five-foot-five frame. Solid muscles and so much chest hair that, when he wears his signature V-necks, it puffs through the opening like some disgusting fur rug. All he’s missing is the thick, gold chains. He’s attractive enough. I’ll give him that much. Strong jaw, full head of black hair, shaped brows, perfectly doctored nose, and full lips. He’s—minus the fur—the picture of male perfection. However, he repulses me.
I don’t know what makes me do it. Maybe it’s the fact that Ivy seems to think I have no idea what I’m doing. Maybe it’s the fact that I hate what is going to become my life when I take the stage. Or maybe it’s the fact that king douche himself, Shawn, is standing in the corner, rubbing his dick through his slacks. But I take over the stage in moves that I’m sure Ivy has never even dreamed of. I climb to the top of the ten-foot pole before doing the death drop to the bottom, ending in a split then using my hands only to climb back to the top. I use every ounce of my upper-body strength to work that pole. It becomes an extension to my body as I effortlessly dance. By the time I do my last spin, my body is pulsing with power.
I might hate my life and what I’ve been forced to live, but if this is all that’s left for my future, then I’m going to own it the best I can. That is until the day I can find my out. Find a way to escape this madness before I lose hope that there is something better out there for me.
I won’t let this break me. I’m stronger than that. I’m Emersyn Rose Keeze, the Princess of Syn, and one day, when I break free of this life, I’ll be a better person because of what I have had to overcome. I won’t let this define me.
“Well, well . . . Was that for me, Emersyn?” His voice makes me want to puke. Thick, deep, and full of sexual undertones. He makes no secret that he wants me with an unhealthy desire.
“No, Shawn. That was so that Ivy would shut up and let me get off that damn stage. Definitely not for you.” I roll my eyes, feeling the power of his glare beating into my naked back. “Leave the dressing room. Now.”
His hand reaches out and forcefully grips my forearms, pulling me back to crash against his chest.
“Let go of me, asshole. You know The Ram won’t like it if you bruise up his fucking Princess of Syn. How will you explain that one?”
“You little brat. You think you have the control here? You think that little princess shit means anything to me? The Ram will pat me on the back for putting you in your place.” His warm breath against my neck makes me want to vomit. God, he’s disgusting.
“Fuck you,” I spit.
“Gladly, Emersyn. Fucking gladly.”
I’ll give him credit. He proved me wrong that day. I put up a good fight, but anything that had been left of my innocence was stolen from me that day, and even though I knew I would eventually get out, something broke inside me. Whether it was the belief that I could overcome this life, the knowledge that I had in thinking I could escape unharmed, or the fact that every second I’d lived leading up to being roughly raped in the back dressing room of my family’s strip club delivered home the fact that I’m nothing but trash.
Don’t get me wrong. I know I’m worth more than this life I unfortunately was born into, but something about that day will forever taint a part of my soul. I’ve worked so hard to keep my mind closed off from the filth that surrounds me. The mother who thinks of me as some fucked-up version of herself to relive her life through. The father who looks at me, his own flesh and blood, as an object to make him money. And the man they’ve promised me to. This life that has been predetermined since they found out my dad’s top dancer and piece of ass was having his daughter. The name I was born into, Emersyn, Locus City’s Princess of Syn, the hottest and seediest strip club in south Florida. Since that fateful day The Ram forgot to pull out of Ivy, I’ve been destined to take the stage. And like it or not, it’s all I have, and it’s going to be my ticket out of this hell.
CHAPTER 2
Maddox
Past
“Babe,” I whisper across her skin, pulling the sheet back as I kiss down her naked back. “Time to wake up.”
I continue softly kissing down her spine, enjoying the fact that, even in her sleep, her body is responding to me. Goose bumps dance across her creamy skin, and when my breath dances across her body, she shudders slightly.
“Not yet. I’m too tired,” she whines.
I let out a soft chuckle against the small of her back before nipping her ass with a soft bite. She moans but continues to doze.
“Mercy, baby, it’s time to go or we’re going to be late. It’s my last weekend here before I ship out, and as much as I would love to spend that time deep within you, we have places to be.” Even if those places aren’t any I particularly want to be.
She starts to protest, but I dig my fingers into her ribs and laugh when she starts squealing like a pig and all but falls out of the bed to get away from me. God, she’s beautiful in the morning. Her almost-white blond hair is a mess of soft curls, most likely from my grabbing handfuls of it all night. Her porcelain skin is glowing, my whisker burns showing up around her neck, tits, and thighs. Her sapphire eyes are bright with mirth. God, it feels good to see her like this. The last couple of weeks have left a sense of impending dread thick on my skin, but seeing her like this gives me hope. Hope that we aren’t drifting apart. That, even though I’m leaving, we’re going to be okay. Enough hope that I can ignore that dread that still won’t vanish.
Mercedes Hutchens has been my girlfriend for the last four years. We were friends before that for a few years, and when I decided to take a chance, she became my girl. And now, my fiancée. Yeah, I’m a lucky son of a bitch.
It’s been hard on us though. I’m deployed more than I’m home, and I’m about to leave again. I know it’s even harder on her. Especially since I can’t tell her where I go when I leave her sitting at home hoping and praying that I’ll return to her. She knows as much as I can tell her. My team, which is made up of seven of the baddest motherfuckers from all over the United States, goes in hot to the deepest pits of hell. We have days to prepare, sometimes for months, but one thing is always clear. We don’t fucking speak about shit.
I’ve been doing this shit since I turned eighteen and got the hell out of my house. And more specifically, got the hell away from Diana Locke. There isn’t anything about my mother that isn’t toxic. She’s hated me since I was a snot-nosed brat. Not my brother, Mason The Perfect, but me—just for being alive. Forever reminding me that everything I touch is tainted with the blackness she sees in my eyes.
Mason and I, we are not close, and we probably never will be. She’s made the perfect Stepford son out of him, teaching him everything she knows—including how to hate me. Being the heirs to our mother’s family’s oil business makes them just about the most powerful assholes in Texas.
My sperm donor of a father—Diana’s words, not mine—ran out on her two months after I was born. Ever since, I’ve never understood the deep hate she has for me. Hell, I was a baby. There isn’t really much I can do about her husband running out on her. Mason was five when I was born. The silver spoon was still attached to his mouth, and he’s so far up my mother’s ass that I’m convinced she never cut the umbilical cord.
So I got out and away from that life. With Mercedes’s blessing, I joined the Marines, where I’ve been in control of my own life since the fateful day I left it all behind.
Sure, I can’t give Mercy a life as glamorous as it would be if I would have stuck with Locke family trad
ition, gotten my Ivy League education, and started working for Locke Oil. We live in a small, one-bedroom apartment and drive used cars, and the rock sitting on her finger is about a tenth of the size she deserves. This might not be the life she envisioned, but I consider myself lucky to have her by my side and that she is willing to settle for less.
We’re happy and that’s all that matters. Yeah, right, that voice of dread reminds me. You don’t believe that—not with how she’s been so closed off lately.
“Why must we go over there, Maddox? You hate your mother.” Her lip comes out in a pout that makes me want to nibble on its plumpness.
“Because, baby, she made it very clear that my presence is required for whatever reason, and with my trust shares in the company being turned over to me this month, I’m not crossing her in any way. Who knows what the troll has up her sleeve? But I’m not chancing that she takes our money.”
Mercedes smiles at the mention of my trust. I’ve been waiting until the shares of the company, something my grandfather made ironclad, are unlocked so that I can have my mother or brother buy me out. I know she’s been stressed about having to pick up a second job with me leaving. I hate that she has to work so fucking hard, but at this point, we don’t have a choice. She doesn’t have anyone other than me.
“All right. Will . . . will your brother and his horrible wife be there?” She avoids my eyes.
I hate that she has to fear my brother’s wife. I’ve never understood her dislike for Mason’s wife. From what I can tell, Josephine is the polar opposite of my mother and brother.
“I’m not sure, babe. Don’t worry about them though, yeah?” I lift her chin and kiss her deeply before jumping off the bed, throwing her naked body over my shoulder, and taking her to the bathroom. If we’re about to suffer through family time at the Locke mansion, then we might as well get satisfied first.