by Skyla Madi
That’s not happening tonight. She’s not leaving my sight.
“I’d rather ride with you.” I turn to James, the mature, white-haired driver, who looks to Sera for approval. “We’re fine.”
He closes the door and Sera’s sweet perfume engulfs me. It dances along my pores, teasing. Taunting. I recall it from the night we spent together and it does things to my blood that it shouldn’t.
“Don’t get used to this, Ben. You’ll lose me tonight and in turn, lose your job.”
I smile at her. She seems so certain. “I don’t think so, princess.”
Sera tosses her bag to the floor and snaps closer to me. Her firm breasts press against my arm and I try hard to force my thoughts elsewhere. “How’d you find me? Do you think this is a game?”
Her well-shaped eyebrows pull together, her dark eyes flashing dangerously.
“I didn’t find you. I’m just as shocked as you are.”
“Bullshit.”
“You’ve got some fucking nerve to be mad at me, Sera,” I point out. “You lied to me. About your age, about everything.”
The driver door opens and Sera reaches across from me, slapping a button to pull up the partition. I hold my breath as her chest touches mine. She’s your job, not your plaything. I tighten my jaw against the urge to touch my lips to the slope of her neck—which I hate that I know she likes.
“It was supposed to be one night,” she retorts, screwing her face up in a way that tightens my stomach. “I don’t have to tell a fling my whole life story.”
“I didn’t want your life story. Your correct age would have been nice though.”
“You wouldn’t have cared anyway. As long as they’re getting what they want, men don’t care about age.”
“I care,” I shoot back, louder than necessary, making her flinch. I’ve always been a law-abiding citizen. I decided on what I believed to be right and wrong a long time ago and I’ve stuck by it…until her. “I bought you alcohol.”
“Yeah, you bought me alcohol. A lot of it.” She leans close, a sinister quirk on her red lips. “You got me drunk, then you took me back to your hotel room, and you fucked me.”
I flick my stare to the partition. Is it soundproof? Can he hear? I don’t think she’d be saying these things if he could. James rolls the car slowly down the drive and I force my attention back to Sera. Fuck her for trying to put this all on me, like she wasn’t a consenting adult the night she grabbed my cock in her hand and pulled me into her greedy, little body.
“If I recall the event correctly, you were the one on top fucking me.”
Her lips part, my choice of words forcing her to remember the night we shared.
“Doesn’t matter how you phrase it. My father is only gonna see it one way.” She reaches out with her manicured hands and touches my top button. “You’re going to fail tonight, Ben, and you’ll tell my father you’re not capable of doing the job. He’ll let you go, unharmed, I promise…but if you stay…and you drag this out too long, it won’t end well for you.”
I meet her eyes and, dare I say, they glisten with concern. She wants to keep me safe? What about her? Who’s going to keep her safe?
I pull my button out from under her grasp. “I can take care of myself.”
Frustration returns to her stare and she’s fucking tormenting me with those pouty lips.
“Fine.” She huffs, sliding back to her side of the car. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
My blood burns with the challenge. She thinks she’s getting away from me tonight, I can see it burning in her pretty eyes, but she’s in for a rude awakening.
Sera
When I enter my father’s most popular club, Ben is nowhere to be seen. I’d like to think I lost him, but I seriously doubt that’s the case. Somehow, I can feel his stare on me. The hair on the back of my neck hasn’t settled since the car ride. God, if James wasn’t driving, I’d have taken Ben in my mouth right then and there. He has that effect on me. He has this arresting magnetism that completely immobilizes me and…and if my dad ever finds out…Ben is as good as dead.
I try to forget all about Ben when my friends arrive, but I can’t. I’d drink to help, but no one is going to serve me at this club. They all know my face. They all know what Marco Ventilli will do to them if they supply his underage daughter with booze.
While my friends drink and have a good time, all I can do is sit and stew on my frustrations.
Until I’ve had enough.
I snag Naomi by her elbow, spilling a few drops of her drink on her pink halter dress. “Let’s go somewhere else.”
She tilts her head to the side and her large, gold hoops twirl in the lobes of her ears. “You’re not having fun?”
“Do I look like I’m having fun? Everyone else is halfway to wasted and I’m bored out of my brain. I want to go to a different club.”
“Okay, let me find the girls and we can go.”
I nod. “I’ll wait by the bar.”
I perch on a cushioned stool by the bar, ignoring the way the bartender gives me uncomfortable side glances, pluck a clean toothpick from its dispenser, and run it in circles against the wood grain surface.
“You look depressed.”
Ben’s voice is low and coarse, sending a tidal wave of shivers down my spine. I don’t realize until I straighten my posture and drop my elbow off the edge of the bar that I was slouching.
“You’re supposed to watch from a distance,” I point out, continuing to circle the toothpick until the very tip breaks off.
“I was until Naomi bailed on you.”
I flick the toothpick over the edge, somewhere, and turn my attention to him. He stands tall beside me, his dark eyes soft and amused, the corner of his mouth slightly turned up.
“She didn’t bail on me. We’re going someplace else.”
Ben’s amusement evaporates off his face, replaced by displeased straight eyebrows and lips. “No, you’re not.”
Across the floor, I see Naomi and Karen, their arms linked together, laughing as they make their way toward us. They haven’t spotted us yet and I know Naomi is going to lose her shit if she sees Ben. She’s only just stopped asking me about the night we spent together and I’d rather not open that can of worms again—definitely not in my father’s club where anyone can hear.
I slip off the stool and my body slides against his. He doesn’t step back and my heart races. I tilt my head on an angle as Ben glares down at me. A dangerous position we’ve caught ourselves in, but he refuses to move. It seems he isn’t as afraid of my family as he should be.
“I’d like to see you physically stop me.”
He remains still, searching my face for something. If he’s expecting me to stand down, then he’s out of his mind. Simpering, I step around him and he clamps his large hand around my forearm and tugs me back. I gasp. None of my father’s men have ever touched me. They’re too afraid to, but Ben? He touches me like he has every right to.
Dad would kill him.
I pull against him, but he doesn’t release me. A couple standing behind Ben murmur and move out of the way, giving us privacy. Do we look like bickering lovers? The thought awakens butterflies in the pit of my belly.
“Why are you so selfish?” he demands, his voice as cold as ice, and I flinch.
Is that how he sees me? Selfish? A spoiled princess? A liar? I imagine I’ve fallen far from the pedestal he put me on that fateful night. I don’t want to upset him or tarnish the long, passionate moment we spent together, but he’s left me with no choice. Unless he throws me over his shoulder and carries me home, I’m going to do whatever I want.
“I’m trying to help you, Ben.” It takes all of my energy to keep my voice calm.
“I don’t need your help.” His eyes flick between each of mine and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pair so fierce, so determined.
And it scares me.
“Ben? Oh, my God.” Naomi’s shrill excitement sends chills down my spine. “Hey, Sera, look. It’s Ben
!”
He releases my arm and cold air sweeps in, cooling the fire under my skin.
“Yeah,” I deadpan. “It’s Ben.”
He offers an abrupt and impatient hello, excusing himself before she can ask about Chad.
I glare after him as he effortlessly disappears into the crowd across the room, like he has somewhere to be.
“What’s his problem?” Naomi asks, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
“I don’t know.” I fan my face with my hand, desperate to rid myself of the heat our conversation caused under my skin. “Can we get out of here?”
“I found Karen, but not Hannah.”
Karen, my petite brunette friend, wearing heels taller than the Empire State, flicks her long ponytail over her shoulder. “Screw Hannah. She’s more interested in finding a new boy toy than hanging out with her friends.”
“So, she’s not coming?”
They shrug. Ugh. Good enough for me. I push off the bar and head for the exit. The security guards, a.k.a. my father’s men in disguise, watch me closely, but none of them stop me because, well, it’s not their job.
Outside, James relaxes against the hood of the town car, reading a newspaper under the bright red and white neons. He flicks his attention up for a second, hesitating when he sees me, before stuffing the newspaper under his slender arm.
He clears his throat as he approaches. “Miss Ventilli?”
“Take us to Beat, please.”
He rushes alongside the car and opens the passenger door. Naomi and Karen throw themselves inside with a rich giggle and I grab the doorframe in my hand.
“And Ben? Will he be riding with you?” James wonders aloud and I pause for the briefest second, glancing over my shoulder.
Ben is nowhere to be seen.
Interesting, considering I told him I was leaving. Did he give up? Did he finally take me at my word? Tonight is his first night on the job. No one expects much from him—not even my father. If Ben fails, he fails. No handsome faces will be beaten, no fingers will be lost. I’m doing this for him. He might never see it that way, but I’m not having his death on my conscience.
I lower myself onto the seat.
“Just go, James.”
Chapter Eight
Ben
She thinks she’s lost me.
I let her think that.
For some reason, she’s pinned me as a weak party boy who can’t handle men like her father. I was in the fucking military, for crying out loud, and the things I did during my service…they make me no better than Marco.
I peer out into the streets of Las Vegas, ignoring the stench of vodka and puke in the back of the taxi. I rarely think about what I had to do when I was overseas. It doesn’t matter if the life you take is that of your enemy. It affects you all the same. Sometimes, you get caught up in the battle and you do things that prevent sleep later that night and for many nights to come…I shiver at the thought. Anyway, that’s not my life anymore, and while I have to live with the hard decisions one has to make in combat, I refuse to let that part of my service define me.
“You haven’t given me an address.” The taxi driver bites out as he’s caught in another red light. “How am I supposed to know what lane to get in?”
“Just follow that town car,” I tell him for the umpteenth time. “It’ll stop soon. When it does, give it a little breathing space. Pull over only when I tell you to.”
“That’s awfully cryptic,” he mutters, his southern accent coming through. “You’re not going to do anything illegal, are ya?”
I chuckle. “Not tonight.”
I glance out into the street, the drops from the light spattering of rain has created a bokeh effect on the glass. We’re in need of a decent downpour, but the clouds filled with promise have long since gone. They drizzled enough rain to make Vegas look like it’s been dipped in glitter, but not enough to make its reckless inhabitants slip and fall on their asses.
I peer between the driver and the passenger seat as Sera’s town car slows to a stop and pulls alongside the curb. I instruct my driver to hang back a little and I catch his gaze as he analyzes me through the rearview mirror.
“What’d you say your name was?” he asks.
He doesn’t trust me. Good. It’s modern America. He shouldn’t trust anybody.
“I didn’t.”
James rushes from the driver seat and I watch intently, ignoring the incessant honks behind me.
“Hey, guy, I can’t sit in traffic like this.”
I wait a few more seconds as James opens the rear door and the girls pour onto the street, laughing as if they don’t have a single care in the world. Naomi and her friend start forward toward the club’s dingy entrance, but Sera takes a second to check her surroundings. She doesn’t spot me sitting in the taxi thirteen feet away. Thanks to the shower, the raindrops on the glass reflect the outside world. Nervously flicking her tongue between her lips, she tugs her handbag onto her shoulder and walks toward the entrance of the club, toward the burly, bald-headed bouncer that blocks the door.
I instruct my driver to pull over and he does without hesitation. He asks me for my name again, but I pretend I don’t hear him as I fish cash from my wallet and slap it onto the center console. He grabs at it quickly, eager to count the money before I exit the vehicle.
“It’s all there,” I tell him, watching the girls enter the club. “Plus the tip.”
Folding the money, he stuffs it into the front pocket of his red plaid shirt and I slip from the taxi. I barely close the door before he zooms back into traffic without indicating, like a madman.
A vibrating sensation from my cellphone against my left ass cheek demands my attention and I pull it out and answer with a gruff hello.
“You left my club.” Marco’s voice is cold, so cold I’m surprised ice doesn’t seep from the ear piece. “I told you not to leave my club.”
“Did you try telling your daughter that?” I retort, storming toward the entrance.
“She doesn’t listen,” he spits. “Are you with her?”
“I’m not with her,” I say, shrugging uncomfortably in my sports jacket. “But I’m near her.”
Marco simmers in the silence. Through the phone, I hear him tapping something, apparently in thought. “She’s safe?”
“She’s safe.”
“And you’ll bring her home before two?”
I nod even though he can’t see me. “She’ll be home before two.”
Within four feet of the door to the club, I’m stopped by the bouncer, his humongous palm spread, forbidding me from entering.
“What?” I ask him, frowning.
He doesn’t say a word. He just shakes his head at me. What the hell? I’ve never been denied entry to a nightclub before. What is it? Is it the way I’m dressed? I bet it’s these damn leather shoes.
“You got a problem, Ben?” Marco asks and his gravelly voice gives me an idea.
“This Neanderthal won’t let me inside the club your daughter’s at,” I tell him. “Obviously, he doesn’t think it’s important that I get inside.”
“Put him on the phone,” Marco demands and I hand my cellphone over.
The bouncer hesitates, however, before taking my phone and holding it to his massive, cauliflower ear. He grunts his hello, but his spine straightens the second he gets a response. His eyes widen, his jaw clenching.
God. Having the kind of power Marco does must feel magnificent.
“She paid me…” he grumbles, “…to not let the douche in the sports jacket inside if he shows up. Okay…yes. Okay…all right…”
Douche in the sports jacket? Nice.
The bouncer hands me back my phone and steps aside. I press my phone to my ear.
“If you lose her, Ben Campbell, tonight will not end well for you.”
My lips twitch as I fight a smile. “There’s no way your girl is getting away from me, Marco. Not tonight.”
He hangs up and I slip my phone
back into my pocket and enter the nightclub.
Sera
I let my annoyance with Ben consume me for a good hour before I toss the thoughts of him out of my head and swallow my fourth shot of tequila. The bartender knows who I am. He used to work for my father, but he doesn’t bring it up. He didn’t even card me when I ordered the first round of drinks.
I’m being stupid tonight. Reckless. Dad’s gonna kill me when he sees I’ve been drinking, but I’m over caring and I’m going to need the booze if I’m gonna get through telling him that I ditched Ben hours ago.
Can’t wait to see what my punishment is this time. Insert sarcasm here.
“You’re not dancing!” Naomi screams in my ear as she falls against the bar.
I laugh at her and her sloppiness. She’s never been able to hold her booze well. Who was that guy from weeks ago? Ben’s friend? I tap my finger against my empty shot glass and it hits me. Chad. Naomi never boned Chad because she was too busy throwing up. Instead of the revenge fuck she’d been planning since her boyfriend of four years cheated on her, she spent the night half-naked with her arms wrapped around a toilet. Typical Naomi shit.
“I don’t want to dance,” I shout back, swaying on my seat.
I see her clearly…or at least I think I do. Her red lipstick is smudged and her lips are swollen, the telltale sign of an epic kiss. Or a shitty drunken one.
“You do! You do!” She snatches me by the wrist and tugs me off my stool.
My handbag falls to the ground and I shout at Naomi. “Wait!”
She releases my wrist and I stumble, falling to my knees on the gross club floor. I’ve long since let my hair out of its bun and it falls around my face, sticking to my damp skin.
Giggling, I grab my handbag and pick myself up. I slam my handbag onto the bar, toward the bartender, the one who used to work for my dad.
“Can you look after this for me?”
He scratches at his short, blond locks and I see the terror in his eyes. He’s worried because I’m drunk off my ass and he’s the one who’s been serving me all night. Lucky for him, no one is here to see. I narrow my eyes at him and he takes my bag with a hesitant nod.