NEVERLAND

by Melissa Jane

  The lift doors opened to reveal an open-spaced, intimately lit penthouse overlooking a glimmering city.

  “Dominic!” a voice called from somewhere. Eventually, a smiling man came into view, jovial and enthusiastic. “Good to see you.”

  “Sol, good to see you, too,” Dominic greeted, shaking his hand. “Everyone here?”

  “Of course, we’re waiting on you.” Sol turned his attention to me. “And who is this exquisite creature?”

  “This is Diamond.”

  His face seemed to move in separate parts, cheekbones here, lips there, but I could see well enough to know he was staring.

  “Indeed, she is a diamond. What a pleasure to have your company.”

  A subtle elbow nudge reminded me to respond. “Thank you, Sol.”

  Sol nodded, a slight change in his demeanor as he considered me a few seconds longer.

  “Diamond is just recovering from a shoulder injury, but she’s such good company, I had to bring her.” He didn’t need to say that, because my cupped sleeved dress covered any hint of injury. He was simply making excuses for any odd behavior I might show.

  Sol nodded. “I see. Good decision, we’re pleased to have her here.” He clapped his hands together with the same enthusiasm from earlier. “Let’s go in and meet everyone. Hopefully, we all leave with smiles wider than those we came in with.”

  “Let’s,” Dominic agreed. It was strange hearing him be so amicable. “Diamond is just going to freshen up a little while we talk business and then we can indulge in a little pleasure.”

  “Absolutely,” Sol agreed. “There’s a bathroom to your left as well as bedrooms. Help yourself.”

  Taking my hand, we bypassed the group of men who’d gathered in the living room and found one of the bedrooms. Dominic switched on the side lamp and closed the door. “Stay in here until I come get you. You’re of no use just yet. I’ll bring you out earlier if I feel like the deal needs sweetening. Got it?”

  I nodded.

  “Say it.”

  “Got it.”

  He watched me, just like Sol had before finally leaving me alone. Sitting on the bed’s edge, I willed my queasy stomach to settle. Breathing deeply, in and out, I feared the side-effects of what Momma G gave me were taking over, and I was no longer feeling chilled and relaxed. My body was weak, vision a blur, and I felt the need to vomit. I slipped from the bed to the floor, clutching my stomach. It felt like a hand was reaching down my throat and twisting my gut.

  Crawling to the ensuite toilet, I balanced my elbows on the seat and stuck my fingers down my throat. My body heaved a few times before I finally threw up. It was all liquid because I couldn’t recall the last meal I’d eaten. It had to have been more than seventy-two hours ago.

  Flushing the toilet, I lifted myself to the basin. Vomiting had done nothing except make me feel disgusting. Searching the drawers for some mouthwash, I came up empty. Literally empty. There was not a single item to be found in the drawers, or on the vanity, or anywhere in the bathroom.

  “Damn it,” I cursed, bracing myself against a crippling head spin. Sinking low, I turned on the polished faucet and after several swills and spits, I wiped my face and reapplied gloss.

  The bedroom door unclicked. Game time. The urge to be sick returned, but this time it was different. I was nervous. Nervous about fucking up out there. Nervous because I didn’t have my wits about me. And nervous because I was a stripper, alone in a penthouse with four mobster men.

  “Look at me,” Dominic instructed when he appeared behind me in the mirror. I turned, his hands on my shoulders while he assessed my condition. “You look so fucking high right now.”

  “My vision… I can’t see well. It’s really blurry.”

  “Did you throw up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fuck.”

  “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

  “We’re going to go back out there,” Dominic warned. “You give them a show but for fuck’s sake, if you feel the need to be sick, signal to me and I’ll bring you back here. Do you understand?”

  I nodded.

  “Say it.”

  “I understand.”

  “Don’t fuck this up, Lucy. I have a lot of money riding on this.” Taking my hand in his, he held so tight it hurt. I figured he too was nervous. Definitely a side I hadn’t seen of him before. He led me back down the hall and into the dimmed room overlooking the city. Above the music, the men were laughing and chatting freely. The padded leather sofas framed a glass coffee table where the men could easily talk business.

  “Here she is,” Sol greeted. I forced a smile, one I hoped was dazzling enough that it would hide how I truly felt. “Diamond, these are my colleagues, Charles and Xavier. Gentleman, this is the lovely Diamond.”

  With a hand at the small of my back, Dominic stepped me forward. “Now the formalities are over, we can drink to the future, and enjoy what my finest girl here has to offer. Diamond has been my club’s drawcard since the day she arrived.”

  “Trying to sweeten the deal, Dominic?” Charles asked. While I couldn’t make out his face, his voice was deep and mature. The world around me was starting to take shape, enough for me to navigate around the room myself in the event Dominic left my side.

  “Gentleman, everyone needs a little piece of Diamond in their life, deal or no deal,” Dominic joked, all eyes on me. He turned to the man on the left. “You like what you see?”

  “What’s not to like?” Xavier finally asked.

  Tension grew thick in the air and I wondered why Dominic brought me here if he was going to allow his jealousy in the way of sealing his business deal.

  “Let’s drink,” Sol announced, breaking the silence that had followed. Dominic led me to the middle of the sofas where he handed me a glass.

  The other men joined us around the table, holding their own glasses high.

  “To new deals, future partnerships and acquaintances,” Sol cheered.

  We clinked and drank, straight tequila burning my throat on its way down. This was the last thing I needed.

  “So, what made an exotic club owner like you get into illegal arms dealing?” Charles inquired.

  Illegal arms dealing?

  This was why we were here?

  So he could make himself even more dangerous?

  “I own many businesses,” Dominic said, taking a seat. “But I have many patrons of the club who are… elite, and they have particular tastes.”

  “A one-stop shop, hey?” Sol asked.

  “They ask, I provide. More money in my wallet.”

  “You know the Croats won’t be happy with this,” Xavier warned. He sounded much younger compared to Sol and Charles, but he carried an air of authority. “The Croats have traded on that turf for years now. And we’ve supplied them with all the military grade arsenal we’ve got. If they find out we’re now supplying you, you can expect some form of retribution. A showdown even.”

  “I know the Croats personally. My father has had many dealings with them over the years. And yes, they’ll be pissed, but if I cared about retribution I wouldn’t have even an eighth of the fortune I have now. As you would know, complacency doesn’t belong in this game.”

  “You got balls, Dominic Salvatore. But I’m not sure we’re prepared to lose one of our biggest clients for someone who’s just starting out.”

  Dominic inhaled sharply. “I might be new, but our clients are different. The Croats trade with fellow Croats and use their weapons in crime. My clients fly in from all over the world, from the Middle East to Asia, and they’re simply needing something more sophisticated than what the local hood rats can offer. They have the money to spend, I need the product to sell.”

  “Once you’re in, there’s no out,” Xavier warned. “And we can’t protect you from the Croats.”

  “I’m not scared of Luka Bastijanic. I’ll ring and tell him myself.”

  For a moment, no one said a word, and although I couldn’t see their expr
essions, there was a definite mood shift in the room.

  Dominic noticed.

  “Perhaps we should lighten the mood a little,” he said with a jovial tone I knew to be a lie. He turned to me. “Diamond, how about you give Xavier a little attention. He’s looking rather… stressed.”

  The men chuckled but it wasn’t with humor. Something had put them on edge and it had happened within the blink of an eye.

  “I’m fine,” Xavier replied, curtly.

  “Oh, come on,” Dominic cajoled. “Diamond’s been with me from a tender age. She’s very experienced.” When the man didn’t answer, Dominic ushered me into action. “Go.”

  Sliding my glass onto the table, I stood too quickly, resulting a blood rush. I swayed, Dominic positioning his leg behind to stable me. The men silently watched, no doubt wondering why I appeared so high, but when Dominic cleared his throat, both Charles and Sol joined him at the bar, leaving me alone with Xavier. I stood with my legs either side of his, and bending at the waist, I wrapped my arms around his neck. His scent was intoxicating, a mix of sweet and spicy. It almost had me weak at the knees.

  Cheek to cheek, I whispered into his ear, “What can I do for you?”

  He breathed me in, his light beard deliciously tingling my skin. It was a feeling so unfamiliar, having always been deprived of it. “You don’t have to do anything for me,” he said, in a low rumble. “Let’s just talk and have a drink.”

  The pleasure evaporated. “I have to.”

  “Baby, I can see you’re high on something—”

  “You don’t have to enjoy it, but I have to dance for you, please.”

  Xavier chuckled. “It’s not that I wouldn’t enjoy it. Of course, I would. I’d just like to have more respect for you, that’s all.” My obvious anxiety seemed to raise questions. “Dominic Salvatore a bit of a tyrant, is he?”

  Blaze’s beautiful face haunted me when I closed my eyes, a tear slipping down my cheek that met Xavier’s.

  “Shh,” he whispered, his hand sliding to the base of my neck. “It’s okay. I’ll play along, but don’t cry.”

  I nodded, thankful he was happy to play ball so I could make it through the night unscathed. The music changed to a tempo I could work with and when I pulled away from Xavier, I instantly missed his touch. I moved my hips to the song, focusing my attention to one spot in the room, hoping the seasickness would abate. Unzipping the strapless dress, I let it shimmy down my waist revealing my heavy breasts. Straddling Xavier’s lap, my nipples grazing his chest, he pulled me close, his lips nibbling my ear. For someone who refused a dance, he seemed completely lost in the moment. I responded, my hips softly gyrating on his groin, his cock hard and pressing against my panties. His hands snaked up my back bringing my senses to life.

  Tentative fingers touched my chest, lifting the pearl-studded cardigan. “What’s—”

  “Nothing.” I pushed him away, but it was too late, he’d already seen the bandage.

  “You’re bleeding,” he hushed, cautious not to cause a scene.

  “It’s nothing,” I insisted, reluctantly pulling away. We were entering dangerous territory and I could feel Dominic’s eyes boring holes into me. I stood too fast to face him, a blood rush once again sending me off-kilter. Xavier gripped my waist to hold me still. I was right. Dominic had been watching intently, analyzing my every move. Leaning against the bar, he raised his glass slowly to his lips, eyes watching over the rim. Could he see the effect Xavier had on me?

  Pushing the dress over my hips, I placed my hands-on Xavier’s, giving him permission to touch. It wasn’t something ever allowed in the club, and it was something I’d never willingly experienced. Xavier’s hands explored. His touch was firm but lacked the violence I was used to. Possessive, but not controlling. I let a man I’d never met before run his hands over my body, fingers grazing my hard nipples, and I loved every minute of it. I loved it because it felt good and brought my senses alive. Maybe it was the drugs making me do it. I didn’t know. But mostly, I loved it because Dominic was watching, struggling to keep his jealousy at bay in front of the men he needed to impress. Xavier’s hands were no longer exploring. Instead, he seemed distracted, a thumb gliding back and forth over the small scar on my left hip. He gently pulled me down until I sat backward on his lap, my ass sitting on his hard cock.

  His hands caressed their way up my back and to my neck, gently massaging. They felt divine. He pulled me closer until I sat flush with his cheek, lips grazing my ear.

  “That’s a beautiful scar. A perfect heart.”

  My blood ran cold, my body tense and unresponsive to his touch.

  He noted my reaction, his hand on my shoulder a way of warning me to stay quiet.

  “What did you say?” I asked, frightened of the answer.

  “I said,” he leaned closer and despite the shock I was feeling, I welcomed his lips on my skin. “That’s a beautiful scar. A perfect heart.”

  Chapter 11

  THEN

  “Go to your room and don’t come out,” Mom warned, frantically trying to untangle my arms from hers so she could close the bedroom door.

  “No, Mom. Come in with me,” I cried. “We’ll put my dresser against the door.”

  She gripped my chin hard and I squirmed in pain but she hadn’t mean to hurt me. Mom was used to fighting and sometimes forgot when to use her strength. “Lucy…” she seethed, patience running out, “… get in your room and stay there.”

  In the kitchen, my father’s voice boomed. Once again, he was drunk and pissed with the asshole of a world that continued to rob him of what he thought he deserved.

  “Bitch, get the fuck out here,” he yelled loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but they wouldn’t do anything to help. They stopped calling the police years ago. Around the same time they made it blatantly obvious we were the white trash that made it a white trash neighborhood.

  “Go.” Momma pushed me into my room and closed the door but not before I saw that familiar look on her face. The one that told me she didn’t know if this would be that one fight. That one fight she may not survive. I’d seen that look all too often.

  I cried angry tears, raging on the inside. The more their raised voices reached my ears, the angrier I became. Hurting him had become my wish. I wanted to make him pay in the sickest of ways for everything he’d done to our family. What I didn’t know at the time, was that it was about to get a whole lot worse.

  My mother released a blood-curdling scream which was followed by a series of heavy, dull thuds. I covered my ears in a lame attempt to make it stop and paced before the door, unsure on what I should do. When Principal Rosser mentioned winning the scholarship, I wanted to tell him I saw my fate turning out differently. I feared one day I would lose all control just the way my father did every night, turning my fantasy into a real-life kill.

  Shouts and screams tore through the night and came barreling down the hall. I jumped away from the door when someone smashed into it, rattling the entire room. The drywall next to the door suffered a sickening blow, my mother no longer screaming. Instead, I heard barely audible sobs, pleading and begging for her life.

  Pressing my ear against the door, I listened as my father called her every derogatory name he could drunkenly recall.

  “I will fucking kill you both,” he seethed. “I’ll make Lucy watch while I slit your throat and then I’ll kill her, nice and fucking slow. Make you whores pay for what you’ve done to my life.”

  A repeated thud followed, like a booted foot walking down wooden stairs. Slowly turning the door handle, I creaked the door open just an inch, enough to see my mother lying facedown and unconscious. But that wasn’t the worst. My father straddled her waist, his hand twisted through her hair, and one after another, he smashed the side of her head into the drywall. It was an unnatural position and I feared he would snap her neck if he hadn’t done so already. Each time it created a bigger indent. Each time it caused more blood to spill down her already unrecognizable fac
e.

  He was really going to kill her this time. Maybe not the way he described, but my father was going to see this through.

  “Get the fuck off her!” I screamed, charging forward. I became someone full of hate and the overwhelming desire for revenge. Fear no longer existed. His reactions were slow and he didn’t respond quickly enough to avoid my foot connecting with his face. He slipped off with the force, his own head smashing into the wall. Dazed and confused, he righted himself.

  The mere sight of him had my blood boiling, years of hate taking its toll. Hovering over my father’s pathetic form, I smashed my fists into his cheeks, one at a time, systematically taking their turn. The skin over my knuckles split, but I didn’t care. I was a woman possessed. I relished the sound of skin against skin as long as I was the one in charge. I relished watching the useless sack of shit trying to shield his face. I relished the idea that I was finally able to give him at least a small dose of what he’d given us for years.

  Like a wild bear, he started swiping at my legs, hoping to send me off-balance. I dodged but it was hard with my mother’s body in the way. Something beside him caught his attention and I managed to land two more punches to his cheek, blood from my torn-up knuckles smearing his skin. When I saw what he was reaching for, I had no option but to start my retreat. I was angry, but he now had a weapon I couldn’t match. With his hand around the neck of a beer bottle, he smashed the base on the ground leaving it dangerously jagged.

  “You want a fight, you little whore, you got one,” he slurred, lunging for me. I moved just to in time to avoid having my thigh slashed open. “You wanna play a game? Let’s play,” he sneered. “How about you watch while I finish your mother off?” He wobbled to his knees and pulled my momma closer to him by her hair.

  “Get the fuck away from her,” I screamed, frightened of the demon in his eyes.

  He smiled, pressing the glass to her throat hard enough to split the skin, a river of blood trickling onto the floorboards. I felt another surge of anger and I welcomed it. I charged forward once again and tackled the evil son-of-a-bitch. To my surprise, I hit harder than expected and we both landed in a heap a yard away from my unconscious mother. We battled for top position but not before I felt my hip assaulted by pieces of the smashed bottle. I was high on adrenaline, so I didn’t care.