ALEATHA ROMIG
New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of the Sparrow Web World: Web of Sin, Tangled Web, Web of Desire, and Dangerous Web, the Consequences and Infidelity series
COPYRIGHT AND LICENSE INFORMATION
DANGER’S FIRST KISS
Prequel to the DANGEROUS WEB trilogy
Copyright @ 2020 Romig Works, LLC
Published by Romig Works, LLC
2020 Edition
ISBN: 978-1-947189-66-9
Cover art: Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design (www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk)
Editing: Lisa Aurello
Formatting: Romig Works, LLC
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
2020 Edition License
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the appropriate retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Danger’s First Kiss
“A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes.” ~ Mack David, et all for Cinderella
On the surface, the world glitters with all things only money can buy. My thoughts should be on the danger lurking beneath the surface. The money and power come from places and dealings the world pretends don't exist. I'm here at this debutante ball as a representative of the new Sparrow underworld. The clock is ticking as alliances are formed and enemies eliminated.
There isn't time to be distracted, and yet I catch a glimpse of the stunning woman across the room.
Surely, she's untouchable to someone like me. Maybe she's royalty or the daughter of a dignitary. Yet I'm drawn to her in a way I can't describe. Her beautiful, seductive smile, bright emerald eyes, and luscious red hair beckon me until I find myself by her side.
Her voice sings to me while her laugh shines sunlight into my dark and dangerous world.
And then the clock strikes midnight and she's gone.
I want more than that first kiss.
From New York Times bestselling author Aleatha Romig comes an intriguing and fun prologue to her newest romantic-suspense trilogy, Dangerous Web. DANGER'S FIRST KISS – A modern Cinderella story.
This novella is set in the dangerous world of the Sparrow Webs. You do not need to read Web of Sin, Tangled Web, or Web of Desire to get caught up in this new dark-romance saga, Dangerous Web.
DANGER'S FIRST KISS is the prequel to book one of the DANGEROUS WEB trilogy.
Have you been Aleatha’d?
Author’s Note~
Danger’s First Kiss, a modern-day Cinderella story, is set in the Sparrow Webs World.
For those who have read or will read The Sparrow Webs: WEB OF SIN, TANGLED WEB, WEB OF DESIRE, and DANGEROUS WEB, Danger’s First Kiss takes place approximately six and a half years before Secrets, book #1, WEB OF SIN.
Now that you understand the time frame, grab your favorite drink, find a comfy spot, sit back, and get whisked away to a time when fairy tales came true, even within the dangerous dark world of the underground.
* * *
Thank you for reading the Sparrow Webs. You’re about to read DANGER’S FIRST KISS, a fun and sexy prequel to book one, DUSK, of the final Sparrow Webs trilogy, Dangerous Web.
If this is your first time reading Sparrow Webs, welcome to the dark, dangerous, and sexy world of the Chicago underground. Please be aware that there are other amazing stories in this same world ready for you to binge today.
Web of Sin: (Sterling and Araneae’s story)
SECRETS (Free everywhere)
LIES
PROMISES
Tangled Web
(Kader/Mason and Laurel’s story)
TWISTED
OBSESSED
BOUND
and
Web of Desire: (Patrick and Madeline’s story)
SPARK
FLAME
ASHES
~Aleatha
Prequel to book #1 of the DANGEROUS WEB trilogy
Chapter One
Many years ago
“Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a widowed gentleman and his lovely daughter Ella,” I softly whispered.
“Lorna, I’m hungry,” Missy, my younger sister, said as she curled beside me.
Our thin mattress was barely wide enough for two young girls. The old sheet we had to cover it wasn’t much, but it separated us from the grime and odor. Lying on that sheet, the two of us cuddled together under an itchy old woolen blanket we’d found in one of the boxes lining the attic walls.
“Shh,” I soothed. My breath came in warm gusts, lingering in the cold attic air as blue-tinted moonlight streamed through the one window. Holding my little sister close, I peered toward the door at the end of the long room, staring at the doorknob and praying it wouldn’t open. “Don’t think about food.” My words came as my stomach growled.
“But my tummy hurts. And, Lorna, I don’t like this house.” Her dark brown eyes opened wide. “I want to go back to Grandma’s.”
With my arm wrapped around her shoulder, I pulled her closer. “We can’t go back. Grandma went to heaven with Granddad.”
Missy’s sobs caused her shoulders to quake beneath my embrace.
“Don’t cry. We need to stay quiet.”
As my words filtered through the frigid air, feminine laughter rang from the floor below. We both lay perfectly still.
“Go to sleep,” I whispered against Missy’s silky dark hair.
In the ghostly moonlight, boxes piled high made scary shadows. The space went on for the width of the house below, yet only this rectangular area contained a plywood floor. All around us was insulation, beams, and studs.
We were sanctioned to a skeleton of a room.
The overhead boards—only a little higher than our brother, Mason, was tall—created our ceiling. There were two basic white light fixtures, each with a singular bulb providing a little heat along with illumination. However, the operating switch was a floor below. If Mr. Maples wanted the lights off, we remained in darkness.
There were no other lights, television, clock, or radio. Our mother’s boyfriend said we needed to earn the right to use his electricity by showing him the respect he deserved.
We’d tried. Three months later, we were still in darkness.
“Girls,” a deep voice boomed from below, intensifying Missy’s trembling.
“Just stay quiet. He’s talking to them, not us.”
Them were his daughters, Anna and Zella, both a little older than me.
We were living in their house with their dad. Like the father in the story I was trying to remember about a girl named Ella, Gordon Maples was a widower. Unlike the father in the story, he was also a drunk who yelled more than spoke. He seemed perpetually angry and mean, not only to us but also to our mom.
I preferred him that way.
The few times he tried to be nice, it made my skin feel wrong, itchy like the blanket.
Once he told me and Missy to sit on his lap. Our mom stopped us, telling us to go to our room—the attic. As he yelled, Missy and I ran up the stairs. Whatever happened, when Mom came to see us later that night, one of her eyes was swollen and there was blood on her lip.
Before our grandmother died, she watched over Mason, Missy, and me. We rarely saw our mother. When she would show up, she’d be
all smiles, bringing gifts and calling us her babies. And then in a few days she’d disappear again.
Everything was different now.
A lady came to Grandma’s house and took us to the police station. She said that if our mom didn’t claim us, they’d find us all homes—separate homes.
Every day, I remind myself that if we didn’t stay here with Mr. Maples, Mom, Anna, and Zella, I’d lose Missy and Mason. At least here, the three of us were together.
“Why does Mom stay here?” Missy asked softly.
“She says she loves him.”
Missy shook her head against me. “He scares me.”
“Me too, sis.”
“Is Mason coming back?”
Her question tugged at my chest. “He will. He always does.”
Mason, who was a year older than me and two years older than Missy, was our brother. While I’d done my best to help with Missy, Mason had always looked out for both of us. Even though he was still a kid, he was the closest thing we had to what a guardian should be, the person who looked out for us.
It wasn’t fair to him or to us, but being too young to understand, we didn’t know.
Laying my head back on the mattress, I recalled how today went from bad to worse.
After school, Missy and I came home. Together, we began chores.
Each day, Mr. Maples left Mom a list. What she didn’t get done during the day was Mason’s, Missy’s, and my responsibility. Today, our mom must have been sick. When we got home, she was asleep and the house was a mess.
Anna and Zella’s school dismissed before ours. Instead of helping, they were in the living room watching television with a bowl of popcorn.
“Can I have some?” Missy asked.
Both of the girls laughed.
“Come on, Missy,” I called.
“You better do your mom’s chores,” Anna, the oldest, said with a smirk. “Or when Dad gets home, he’s going to beat all your asses.”
Instead of arguing, Missy and I went to work. As the time for Mr. Maple’s arrival approached, the dishes were washed, some of the laundry was in the washing machine with more in the dryer, and dinner was in the oven.
I may be young, but Grandma was a great cook and taught me well.
Missy spent time coaxing our mom. Finally, she helped Mom get up, shower, and dress.
When Mr. Maples came home, everyone was present—everyone except Mason.
Our brother had a job at a local gas station after school. In reality, he was too young to be employed. The owner, Mr. Sweeny, took pity on Mason and paid him cash to sweep and stock the shelves at the convenience store. It wasn’t a lot of money, but Mason promised he’d save it and one day get us our own place.
It was Mr. Maples’s rule: if you weren’t at the table when he sat down, you didn’t eat. So Mason was usually careful to leave the gas station in time for dinner.
From the moment Mr. Maples walked in tonight, he was angry and complaining. The living room was too messy. It was, but that was because Anna and Zella wouldn’t pick up their things and spilled the popcorn. The washing machine was too loud.
Why didn’t Mom do the laundry earlier?
“I’m sorry, Gordy,” Mom mumbled, her green eyes pleading as she stared at him.
“You will be.”
It was then that Mason came in.
We all turned as he slammed the front door.
Fire sparked in Mr. Maples’s eyes as he lurched for Mason. Chairs scooted and flew. Mom screamed. Anna and Zella ran to their rooms.
“Leave him alone,” I yelled.
“Lorna, go.”
It was the last thing we heard Mason say over Mr. Maples’s rant. I reached for Missy’s hand. Something behind us crashed as Mr. Maples screamed, telling Mom to go to her room. With the dinner on the table and seven places set, the room quickly emptied, except for him and Mason.
At only ten, Mason wasn’t any taller than our mom and much smaller than a grown man.
Missy and I hurried up to the attic. Even from two stories above we heard Mr. Maples as he threw Mason from the house. A few minutes later, our room went dark. At some point, we snuck down to the second floor to use the bathroom. When we went inside and shut the door, our toothbrushes were in the toilet.
After a quiet knock on the door, Anna’s voice called, “Be sure to brush your teeth.”
That was about eight o’clock. I didn’t know what time it was now, but we were still here, in the dark.
“Tell me the story,” Missy said quietly as the noises below us faded.
“A widower with his lovely daughter Ella.” Cinderella had always been my favorite fairy tale. I loved listening to Grandma as she would read. The books were gone, as were most of our possessions from Grandma’s house. Therefore, I recited from memory, “Ella was a beautiful girl. Like you.” I nuzzled my nose against my sister’s hair. It smelled of body oil and smoke. I’d hoped we could take a shower tonight.
That would need to wait until tomorrow.
“No,” Missy replied. “Ella doesn’t look like me or you. She has yellow hair and blue eyes, like flowers.”
Missy had big brown eyes, golden skin, and dark hair. “You’re still beautiful.”
“So are you, sis. I love your red hair and green eyes, like Mason’s eyes.”
It was then we both turned toward the window and my breathing caught.
Tap.
Tap.
“He’s home,” Missy exclaimed.
“Shh.” I hurried toward the window and unlocked the latch. While I pushed from the inside, Mason pulled. Soon we had it opened wide enough for him to enter. For only a moment, I leaned over the sill, wondering how Mason was able to make the climb.
Turning, I saw that our brother had two bags in his grasp; however, it was his blackened eye that caught my attention.
I wrapped my arms around him and laid my cheek against his chest. “You’re okay,” I whispered. It wasn’t a question as much as a validation.
Missy was beside us with her arms around both of us. “And you came home.”
“Be quiet,” Mason warned in a hushed voice as he closed the window. “Here.” He handed each of us a bag.
“Where’s yours?” I asked.
“I ate mine. This is for you.”
Trying to keep the bag from crinkling, I peered into the depths. He’d brought us a feast. Each bag contained a sandwich, apple, bag of chips, and plastic bottle of milk, the individual size.
“Did you get this from Mr. Sweeny?”
“Yeah,” Mason replied as he took off his shoes and quietly walked to the other mattress. Similar to the one Missy and I slept on, his was also thin and covered with a sheet and one blanket. “It ain’t warm, but it’s food.”
Missy tore open the chips and started eating.
Even from across the room, I heard Mason’s stomach growl. “Mace, I don’t want all this. Come eat some.”
“I told you. I already ate.” He jutted his chin forward. “That’s yours.”
Quietly, so as to not be heard below, I walked over to Mason’s mattress and sat. Next, I laid out the bag and divided the contents, except the apple, which I put in his pile. Without a word I began to eat my half. After the sandwich was gone, I looked up and gently reached for his cheek. “He did this to you.”
Mason’s green eyes glowed with anger in the moonlight. “Missy’s wrong.”
“About?”
“This ain’t home. It never was and it won’t be. Not with him.”
I sucked in a deep breath of the cool air.
Mason lowered his voice. “I’m talking to Mom. Either she leaves him and we get our own place to live, or the three of us are leaving.”
From her spot, we could hear Missy begin to cry.
Going to her, I wrapped her in a hug. “He’s right, Miss. We can’t stay here. Mr. Maples scares me, too.” It wasn’t only his temper that frightened me. The way he looked at me and Missy sometimes made my stomach twist in a bad way.
“I don’t want to be separated,” she said. “That lady told us—”
“Stop,” Mason interrupted, sitting beside us on our bed and handing Missy the second apple. “Ain’t anyone separating us.”
Chapter Two
Present day
“Lorna,” my manager, Anna, said as I clocked into work. “Customer threw up in room 211. Clean it up.”
Pulling my unruly red hair back into a ponytail, I wrinkled my nose and squinted my green eyes. Gross. I secured my apron over my top and jeans. The only dress code for working at the Motel 7 was comfortable shoes.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes, I heard you. It’s gross. What time did 211 check out?”
“Ten this morning. Hurry, time’s a ticking.”
“Shit, it’s three o’clock,” I said, looking at my watch. “Couldn’t someone else have cleaned up the puke?”
Her lips curled upward in a sinister grin. “Saved it for you, sis.”
I wasn’t Anna Maples’s sister. I never was. Just because my mother made the mistake of living with her father, sentencing me and my siblings to his wrath for about six months before we convinced my mother to leave him, didn’t make us family.
Yet sometimes life had a way of playing cruel jokes. Even though Anna wasn’t my family, she was my manager at this Motel 7.
Cleaning up after other people was a shitty job but a job nonetheless. It provided a steady paycheck, a roof over my head with locks on my doors and control of my own electricity, a car to drive, and food in my belly. I wasn’t living the high life in south Chicago, but I was living.
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