Take Me

Christian.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Like fuck is this happening. But it is, though.

It actually is happening, and this shit’s been happening for God knows how long.

I land a fist in Jonny’s face, and he stumbles backward, falling into the stack of crates.

The other men look on in fear, as they should. They were shocked to shit when my cousin, Salvatore, and I burst through the door to the warehouse not even five minutes ago, guns blazing with our men in tow.

They thought they could keep their little secret charade of shit going. Well, the three dead men on the ground say otherwise.

I move into Jonny and grab his neck so hard I’m surprised I don’t snap it right off his miserable body.

Motherfucker.

The fucker cries out in agony and tries to free my hands. Not gonna happen. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s being made to look like a fool, and definitely not in front of my family.

Maybe I wouldn’t be so enraged if the shit they were trying to pull off didn’t come back to me. But it will. All of it will.

“Give me a name,” I demand.

The fucker shuts up, and his eyes go wide. The fact it’s only now he starts trembling has me pissed off all over again. It means he wasn’t scared before.

I glance at Salvatore, who’s now joined me. He’s seething. I’m grateful for the backup. Two Giordanos are better than one, and Salvatore is the underboss of the family.

Having him here is good for me. I don’t have a rank in the family, and that’s probably why this shit happened on my watch, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna allow these fuckers to think I’m a pussy. I’m Christian Giordano. My name is enough to put the fear of God in any man who dares cross me.

“Give me a name,” I demand once again.

“I don’t know nothing,” Jonny sputters.

Liar.

He’s fucking lying.

I gave this fucker the chance to run the show, trusted his ass to be in charge, and he screwed me over.

Jonny knew shit that was happening under wraps which could ruin the company, and kept it hush so I wouldn’t find out.

The three men lying across from me each got one of my bullets to the head before any of them could pull their guns, and Jonny’s going to join them if he doesn’t start talking. The only reason I haven’t ended him yet is because I figure he’ll be most likely to tell us what we need to know.

“Maybe we should blow his fucking head off,” Salvatore snarls, and Jonny flinches.

“That’s about to happen,” I growl, shoving Jonny against the crates harder. “You dumb fuck, talk to me. You’re lying, and I know it. You have a name. You’ve been in charge for the last two months. You watched those fuckers drive out of here with the shipment and filed everything like nothing happened.”

Me and Salvatore both saw him on the secret cameras I set up in here yesterday. We watched earlier, confirming what intel alerted us to, and lay in wait for all the men to get here before we struck.

I look at Jonny long and hard, giving him the chance to talk. When he doesn’t take it, my patience runs out. I land another fist in his face, sending him to the ground this time. The others move out of the way when I take out my knives.

Jonny backs away on his hands. Terror is written all over his face, it makes his body shudder under my wrath.

It’s time to change things up. I’m about to show him what terror truly is. He got his chance to come clean while I wasn’t showing my true colors, and he blew it.

I throw one knife in his thigh, and he screams. Before he can recover, I throw another knife in his other thigh.

This is a thing we do in prep for death, with the hope the idiots we deal with on the regular will talk.

Jonny stops trying to back away from me. He’s unable to move now. The pain has taken him, and the walls tremble with the echo of his cries.

“Ready to talk?” I ask calmly. That’s probably scarier than me being enraged. “I got more knives where those came from. You’ve pissed me off so much, though. I might up my game to blowing off one limb at a time. Not sure yet. I’ll do it, though. My will I ever do it. What’s it gonna be?”

Jesus, the fucker has to start crying. He’s trying to talk, but he can’t. The words aren’t coming out. I just need him to say one word. One name. That’s all.

Nobody would dare steal from the Giordanos. Not a damn chance. So, I want a fucking name. As I study Jonny, though … I see clearly that whoever got to him must be really good, powerful. The man’s not talking, and he’s got my knives in his legs. Most people would have been singing like a canary by now.

Who the fuck could he be working for?

“Jonny, I’m serious as fuck. You allowed these people to steal from us. Steal shit from us that could land us in trouble with the feds and end us.” Essentially that is what could happen.

This fucker could have opened up Pandora’s box, and whatever evil came out would trace back to us. To me.

“I don’t…” Jonny begins, and his voice trails off.

This is turning into a game of shit. I don’t have time for this. I’m already late for the club, and I don’t want that part of my life in the shitter too.

I pull another knife from my pocket and throw it into his shoulder. This time when he screams, I’m on him.

I grab his mouth and set the gun at his temple, ready to blow his head off. “Motherfucker give me a name,” I bellow.

Click. Clack. I cock the hammer. On the sound, his stupid eyes go wide, and his breath hitches.

“Falcone,” he garbles, and I take the gun out of his mouth so I can hear him.

“Say that again,” I demand, hoping like hell it’s not the name I thought he said.

“Falcone, it was him,” he blurts, tripping over his words, now trying to speak hastily.

I grit my teeth and glance back at Salvatore, who balls his fists.

Fuck.

Damn it.

Falcone…

I close my eyes briefly and seethe. Anybody but him. Any other fucking criminal but that asshole.

It’s not that we can’t handle a guy like him. It’s because we don’t know how much he’s infiltrated or how far he’s reached. The guy is what we call fluid. You can’t quite track his work, and you don’t know what he’s up to. He’s able to infiltrate from the ground and work his way up. In our case, because Giordanos Inc. is a shipping company, it could mean the fucker wormed his way across the seas.

“Where did they take the guns?” I shout in Jonny’s face.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know that part.”

“Fucker, you don’t know where they took the guns!” I find that hard to believe.

“That’s how Falcone works. I just got the shipment ready for them to make the drop, and they took it. I …don’t know anything else,” Jonny stutters.

Dammit. I’m fucked.

I’m fucked, and I’m pissed. The time for compassion is over.

I stand, and Jonny full well believes I’m gonna pop a bullet between his eyes, but I won’t because he deserves worse than that.

“You and you get over here,” I say, pointing to my two street guys on my left. Both are built like tanks. “Take him to the torture chamber and get Rufus to give him the special treatment.”

Yes. That’s what I’m gonna do. Torture his ass. Fucking asshole. I can’t stand these opportunistic fuckers. He’ll get what he deserves.

A tear tracks down Jonny’s chubby cheeks. He knows what will happen next. Torture of the worse kind. He’ll have to beg for death. That’s what you get for screwing with me.

Without question, the men take Jonny away. His sobs are the last thing I hear as they carry him out the door.

The rest of the workers stare back at me, wondering what I’m gonna do to them.

Jonny was the manager. He’d worked for the family for close to five years with no problems until he made one. The problem I’m having here, though, is I don’t know who else was involved with this shit.

The shipment was a half a million-dollar contract. My first real gig since my cousin, Vincent, took over as boss of the family.

It was my first real gig with Angelo Tripoli, a long-standing client who’s been with Giordanos Inc. since it started. That’s going back more than forty years.

He hired us to ship a ten-pack crate of small arms worth three million to Italy. The men stole a crate containing three hundred weapons whose value is close to a million dollars. The guns are a new generation of squad weapons valued at nine grand a unit. Angelo has a deal with an army captain to supply him with a certain amount.

I asked for more responsibility in the business. I actually wanted it, and this was my time to shine and show I could handle things. It’ was my turn to show my father I could be just as efficient as my brother, Georgiou when it came to business.

Georgiou used to take care of the warehouses and the preparation of the shipments. That role passed to me, along with handling the contracts for some of the VIP clients after Vincent took over. Then this shit happened.

Fifteen men look at me. Some have been here longer than Jonny. What is better, keep them and risk more shit, or something else?

“The rest of you are fired. I’ll pay you for the next four months.” That’s right up to the end of the year. Money that will come out of my own pocket. “Get out,” I tell them, and they walk without any argument.

They know not to argue or ask me shit. It’s clear I can’t trust anyone here. I don’t have proof, but there would have to be at least one or two more people involved to pull off a stunt like what we saw on the cameras.

I turn to my other street guys who came to back us up next. “You guys get on the street and start looking for Falcone.”

They nod and leave.

I wait for everyone to clear out before I call the cleanup crew for the dead, then turn back to Salvatore, who has a crude expression on his face.

“Christian, what are you gonna do now?” He narrows his eyes as he assesses me.

There’s so much to fix here, and I just made it worse by firing all the staff. Staff who should be prepping shipments for our other clients.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“There’s a lot at work here,” Salvatore points out.

“I know. I have to find a way to get those guns back, Salvatore. Now we have a name I can work with. I have to see what I can do,” I answer.

Salvatore’s jaw tenses. That’s not a good sign. It means he knows getting the guns back is going to be impossible. I couldn’t agree more because they could be anywhere.

“Christian, this is going to be really difficult.” He sighs, running a hand over his beard. “Vincent’s gonna be mad as fuck about this.”

“I know. I do know.” It’s not just Vincent I have to worry about, though. I also have Georgiou and my father.

“I have to call him. He’ll be expecting a report.” Salvatore gazes at me with worry in his eyes.

“It’s fine,” I answer, understanding. “I’ll check in with Vincent later too. I should drop by the club, sort shit out there for the exhibition, then catch up with the guys on the street. It’s gonna be a long night.”

He nods his agreement. “How about I go with you, and we can continue investigating together.”

“No. You’ve been with me all day,” I point out.

“Business is business.”

“You have a family to take care of, Salvatore. I got this.” He has a wife and two kids. Yes, business is business, but he needs to get home to his family. “I’ll take care of tonight and fill you in tomorrow.”

“Okay. Call me at the first sign of trouble.”

“I will,” I assure him.

I admit I’m gonna need help, but I just need to be by myself for a little while to figure out what actually happened here in regard to Falcone. I also want to show I still have a handle on the club.

I own The Dark Odyssey with Georgiou, Salvatore, and his brothers Gabe and Nick. With the change around, I’m there more than the others. I’m supposed to be there every night this week. I have a new attraction that’s supposed to bring in a shit load of money. Tonight is opening night.

Being a sex club, with our nightly Venetian masquerade-themed parties, The Dark Odyssey brings in a fortune. Every night the place is packed with the wild and adventurous who want the thrill of a dark fantasy. But, with the attractions in the mix, the financial possibilities are endless.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Salvatore says.

“Yeah. Thanks for backing me up,” I tell him.

“No worries.” One last nod, and he leaves.

As the door closes, I look around the employee-less warehouse.

Shit, this is so fucked up. Falcone wormed his way into our company and stole from us. It shouldn’t have happened. I’m gonna have to replace the worker's first thing in the morning before I see Vincent.

Pulling in a ragged breath, I leave. I jump in my car and head to the club.

Ideas flow through my mind as I drive. I don’t even know where to start tracking a fucker like Falcone. Like others, he’s been trying to have a piece of the pie for years. This time he got to us by a chance that came about when Peter died.

Peter was the head manager of the warehouses for over twenty years. His passing allowed the devils to come out to play. He died two months ago, and I made the mistake of putting Jonny in charge. And that is why this is my fault.

Jonny was supposed to be temporary while I looked for a replacement for Peter. Our long-term managers come with a different type of skill and a level we can trust that Jonny didn’t have.

Peter knew the ropes like the back of his hand. The ships are based in New York, but the shipments come here first to be stored in these warehouses. They’re prepped in a special way which assures our customers we can make anything look legit.

I didn’t replace Peter right away because it was hard to fill his shoes, and I thought I was doing good by allowing Jonny to cover because he knew the job. I even gave the fucker more money. By trusting too much, I screwed myself over, not knowing wolves were lying in wait to fuck with me.

News must have traveled of the gun shipment. My cameras picked up the three men I killed, packing the crate into an unmarked truck. The only thing Salvatore and I could do while we watched the shit happening was wait. If we’d done anything else, the assholes would have fled, and we wouldn’t have gotten Falcone’s name. We knew the men could only be taking guns like that to sell to someone powerful. They’re not arms you sell on the street.

I glance at myself in the rear-view mirror and wince when I see blood on my collar. Great, just fucking great. Bad enough, I had to beat a fucker up and get blood on my hands, metaphorically speaking, but the proof of the shit is there and not how I want to make my presence known at the club.

I’m gonna have to change when I get there, and believe me, I’m grabbing the best girl or two to fuck before I leave. I need to work off this stress and angst.

Half an hour later, I pull up at the club and rest my head against the steering wheel. I just need a minute to shake off the stress.

From the look of the parking lot, it’s packed tonight. That’s always good and even better when it’s the start of a new show—something new to bring in fresh money.

That’s one of the things I do here. I come up with new dark fantasies.

Tonight is the opening night of the Heaven and Hell show. I have all kinds of sinful shit happening right out in the open for all to see. All in the air above the dance floor of the club. I already had acrobats fucking on aerial hoops and people inside the exhibitionist box. They’ve changed up their routines to create the Hell part of the show.

For Heaven, I actually wanted a piece of Heaven. So, I got a ballerina. She’s supposed to be an angel in my kingdom of sin—a being of purity whose body will be up for auction to the highest bidder.

I’ve been told the woman who got the part agreed to do anything. And anything means anything at The Dark Odyssey. The men will place bids on her, and we’ll take a booking fee of two grand from whoever wins her for the night. She’ll get the rest, which could be anything upwards of two grand, which is the minimum bid.

Folks of the past weren’t kidding when they said sex sells. It sure as fuck does.

I haven’t seen this dancer of mine yet, but the choreographer I hired assures me we definitely hit the jackpot. She stands to make us a pretty penny.

I’m about to get out of the car when someone crashes into the back of me.

Someone crashes into my fucking Bugatti, and I’m parked. What kind of an idiot does that?

And who the fuck would dare come close to my car in the piece of shit I’m looking at in the rearview mirror?

It’s a blue SUV that looks like it’s seen better days. The people who frequent this place don’t drive shit like that.

Enraged, I jump out, ready to give them a mouth full, but the words fade from my mind as a beautiful blonde woman steps out of the car, shaking.

She shakes even more when she sees me. I’m not sure if that’s because she knows who I am or if it’s because I just look scary. She’s petite, about five-four, but has the kind of body made for sin. The kind of body I like on a woman who can take a hard fuck.

“I’m so sorry,” she stutters. Her crystal blue eyes shimmer against the moonlight, and the outline of her heart-shaped face is set in fear.

I just stare back at her and look her over in her jeans and t-shirt. The women who come here dress in lingerie. Outside they’d at least have on robes or a kimono.

“I didn’t see you,” she continues.

“I was parked,” I point out. “The fucking car is black and silver. How could you not see me?” I’m not being an asshole. Well, maybe I am, just a little.

It’s because she’s piqued my interest, and I want to know what she’s doing here. If she’s parked here, she’s definitely going into the club.

As what, though?

Her lips tremble, and she releases a shallow breath.

“I know. I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I mean, I saw you, but I didn’t know that was going to happen. My car does that sometimes. It jerks forward, especially when I’m nervous. It’s my first night working here.” She looks uneasy saying that, like she wishes she could take it back.

I get it. I’m not sure I know anyone who would confess to working in a sex club. Owning it is different.

I resist the urge to smile. This girl is about to work for me and doesn’t have a clue who I am.

Nice.

“Well, sweetheart, maybe you’ll get enough coins to get rid of that piece of shit that crashed into my car. What are you going to do about the damage now, though?” I tilt my head to the side and study her.

She rushes to open her door, reaches for her purse, and digs around until she finds some notepaper. Taking out a pen from the side pocket of her purse, she scribbles on the paper and hands it over to me.

“That’s my name and number. Please, would it be okay if you called me later to resolve it? I can’t be late. It’s a scratch, that’s entirely my fault, and I promise I’ll fix it.” She points to the bumper of my car.

She’s right, it’s just a scratch.

I look down at the paper and smile. I’ll definitely be using that number.

“All right, sweetheart. Good luck on your first night. I’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you,” she nods at me, and I can tell she’s grateful, but she also knows my bid of good luck was no sentiment.

I watch her practically flee from me and run right into the staff entrance of my club.

Looks like tonight just took an interesting turn.

I can’t wait to see what’ll happen next or what my new friend will be like. I glance down at the piece of paper in my hands, and a sinful smile spreads across my face.

Lilly St. James.

That’s her name.

Well, hello Lilly. Welcome to the Dark Odyssey. I hope you enjoy your stay.

I know I will.

Lilly.

Oh my God…

What a damn way to start the night.

Jesus…Running my car into the back of a Bugatti. A parked one at that. It’s not that I didn’t see it. And I don’t know why such foolishness fell from my lips when I told that guy I didn’t see him.

Even if I were blind, I would have seen that guy, and by the same token, I would have known to stay far away.

The man was GQ gorgeous with the type of face Hollywood would snatch. His face was all angles and planes gorgeous. His jet-black hair slick, large brown bedroom eyes alluring, and he packed the type of muscle I’ve only ever seen on a men’s health magazine.

However, I can spot a guy that’s trouble from a mile away. Up close, it’s easier. Add the fact he had blood on the collar of his shirt, and that’s enough for the warning bells to go off in my head.

Mafia … that was him. He looked Italian and carried the attitude I’ve grown used to with men of that caliber. They’re just like the Cartel. No different. Maybe worse.

What I do know is I’m lucky he didn’t push for me to sort out my clumsiness then and there or behave like an ass over the scratch. And thank God it was a scratch. Who knows what it will cost me, though, or what the claim will do to my insurance to spike up the monthly payment.

I sigh and pace up the stairs. I’m not late yet. I don’t think they will mind because I’m not supposed to be here for another hour, but I was asked to get here early to go over the performance tonight.

Performance…

I guess I can call it that. I’ll be dancing, and that’s a good thing. The dancing part is something I can look forward to and the fact I can wear clothes tonight is a plus. There will be some routines in the weeks to come where I’ll be naked.

Dancing naked after not being on stage for close to five years is not my idea of fun. Dancing naked in a sex club when you were on track to a career as a successful dancer was never in the cards for me. Not at all.

I went to Julliard. I’m trained in both ballet and contemporary dance styles. I was supposed to be a star. I was once, then I fell.

In this exhibition, I’m the dancer, the Angel representing Heaven. I’ll be dancing in the hour-long performance, and while I dance, the men below will place their bids on who will have me for the night. Who will get to break my wings.

It’s like an auction. It is an auction. The highest bidder wins me, and I have to do what they want. That’s the part of this job I’m not looking forward to, but it’s the part that will be my ticket to a better life. If I can hack it, I’ll be looking at making some serious money. If all goes well, I’ll be looking at over a hundred and forty grand, minimum. That type of money for three months of work at one hour per night five days per week would set me for a while.

Dancing alone will pay a base of seven grand per month. I don’t know anywhere else that would pay me that much. What I’m pushing my neck out for is the big money from the auction. The minimum bid anyone can place is two grand.

I’d be an idiot to refuse this job.

I just don’t know when it was, I thought it would be okay to be a whore or sell my soul to the devil.

My cheeks burn. Maybe crashing into that guy was an omen I shouldn’t be here. Here at the Dark Odyssey. A sex club known for all kinds of debauchery and wild fantasies for the sexually adventurous.

He knew. The Bugatti guy knew. He would have known I was coming in here. I was worried about being late, but I’ll admit shame filled me the moment I saw him realize I could only be parked where I am if I were going into the club. I couldn’t get away fast enough.

It doesn’t matter. This job is my chance. A chance I have to seize with both hands to get my life back on track and pay off that fucking debt to Lev. A damn debt I wish I never had to get. It was literally jumping from the frying pan and into the flames of Hell , making my situation so much worse than it already was.

It’s not just me I have to think of now. I have a three-year-old daughter who depends on me, and I have to be her mom. My little Rosie deserves all the good things this world has to offer. A home where she can feel safe and a mother who can take care of her. The way my mother took care of me.

Nothing else matters right now, and even if it were just me, I owe it to myself to get back to who I’m supposed to be.

I’m twenty-six years old. I want to get back on the stage. I want to be the star I was before my life changed in such a cruel way. Essentially, I just want to be Lilly St. James again. With most professional dancers retiring from the stage at thirty-five, I still have a few years left where I can shine. If I get the chance, I’m seizing and fighting for it.

I go up the steps leading to the dressing room and see Tatiana talking with Louise.

Tatiana is the choreographer who was hired for this project. Louise is the assistant manager here. She alternates her shifts with the manager, Mimi Giordano.

Mimi did my interview along with Tatiana. Both were nice to me, although I suspect Mimi probably saw how desperate I was. . Tatiana was too impressed with my resume to see the other side of the job, which might worry me.

She and Louise smile at me when I enter the room.

“Fantastic, you’re here,” Tatiana beams. She rubs her hands together excitedly.

I smile and try to act calm and cool.

“Hi there. I made it,” I say, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

“We’re so excited about tonight,” Louise says.

Both women frequent the club as patrons, so they wouldn’t know how nervous I am. I’ve known them for a little over three weeks, and I’ve heard enough stories to make a nun blush and have me in confessionals for a week, just from listening to them.

The way I figure it is this, it’s fine if you come here and meet a guy to hook up. If this is not your thing and you’re working, you become something else entirely.

In my case, I’d be a little better than a prostitute. They can sugar coat it all they want and make me feel like I’m being daring and adventurous, but it is what it is.

That’s the part that gets me.

Tonight could be the start of anything.

“Are you ready?” Tatiana takes both my hands into hers.

“I am. It’s gonna be nice dancing again.” I try to sound enthusiastic.

“My girl, I can just imagine,” Tatiana sympathizes. “I was so sad when I stopped dancing. Imagine dancing for over twenty-five years, show after show, touring the world, then stopping. But it was time for me. Choreography is great, but there’s nothing like being on that stage. Or, in your case, the crystal ball.”

I laugh and genuinely smile.

The ideas she’s come up with are ingenious, and I can see why the club owners hired her. I’m supposed to dance in a massive crystal ball that moves around the ceiling on a mechanical device, creating an illusion I’m dancing in the air.

The ball is big enough for me to glide around and leap through the air as if I’m on stage doing a show. All that while I’m surrounded by sex. It’s called the Heaven and Hell exhibition for a reason.

During my time here, I’ve only seen people having sex once. That was when I was leaving late after rehearsals. I wondered if people would seriously have actual sex here. Then I saw it. A threesome at that, and right by the bar where I went to grab a glass of water.

“I’m excited,” I say.

“That’s what we like to hear,” Louise chimes in.

“I’ll go get the makeup ready and the stylists.” Tatiana is again rubbing her hands together.

“We’ll do paperwork and join you in a few minutes,” Louise answers, and Tatiana saunters away.

Louise gives me a cautious look and bites the inside of her lip. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.”

“As it’s your first night, Mimi asked me to take special care of you. She sensed you were a little nervous,” she states.

“I am. I guess it’s because I’m new and this … is new,” I confess, throwing my hands wide.

I’ve put on a good act over the time I’ve come here. I tried to make them think I’m this wild, adventurous woman who’s in touch with her body and wants to explore sex in every way. Of course, they would think that when I ticked the box on the contract that said I’d be willing to do anything.

That’s what I did—opening the floor for anything.

Louise and Tatiana were thrilled. Mimi though? I knew she could see straight through the shit of a façade I put on.

“I’m going to be real with you, and please don’t take this the wrong way at all. For a start, I’ve seen you dance, and I can see you’re better than this, but that’s the same reason we want you. The Dark Odyssey is more than just a sex club. It’s about fantasy, so we want the best. But not if you find yourself in a situation where you’re uncomfortable or feeling forced to do something you don’t want to do.”

I nod my understanding. “I know, and I get it.”

“Lilly, I know the money is seriously good. Mimi and I are both moms, so we know the value of good money. At least she has a good guy to take care of her. I, on the other hand, know it can be hard when you don’t have that, and I get why you’re doing this, but think about what you’re doing. You said you’d do anything on your contract, and I have to let you know that anything means anything.”

“I understand,” I assure her, but she still looks concerned.

“I just want to make sure you’re a hundred percent okay with that. The men who come here have all sorts of tastes.”

“I know, and I promise you, I’ll be okay.”

She’s a single mom like me, but I don’t think she’s been through the hell I’ve had to go through with my baby and the man who was supposed to take care of us.

In the end, there was no one to keep us safe from him. I’m here now, and this is the home stretch out of Hell .

“Great. We’re all extremely excited. Well, this is it. You get ready, and you dance. I’ll have someone there waiting to tend to you at the end of the performance. The ball’s flight will end at Christian’s lounge tonight. Then it will lower to the floor below, and you’ll get out.”

Christian is one of the owners of the club. I heard it was he who hired Tatiana and me. Each of the owners do different things here. He’s responsible for some of the wilder attractions like what I’m doing tonight.

“Oh, cool.”

“He’s nice. Watch it though; he’s the last Giordano bachelor left, sexy as hell and hot as sin. The girls want to get him into their beds, and a lot of them would love a ring on their finger. Get too close, and you’ll make a few enemies.”

She chuckles and shakes her head. I’ll be fine. Men are out of the question for me, so the girls are welcome to him.

“Don’t worry about me,” I answer.

I’ll be staying away. Nice as Mimi and Salvatore are, there’s more than one reason for me to watch myself around that family. I’m aware of who the Giordanos are. I did my research, and it’s a known thing in Chicago that they’re a Mafia family.

“If you need me for anything, I’ll be there. The club’s safe word is red. If anybody tries anything you don’t like, you scream red,” she cautions with a stern expression.

Safe words….

I’m gonna have a hard time wrapping my head around this.

“Thank you,” I say.

“No worries. Let’s get you ready then.” The smile returns to her face, and I feel more assured. The last thing I want is for her to think I’m going to chicken out.

I’m not.

***

I’m ready within the hour.

My first performance is at eight. The club opens at seven, but most of the crowd rolls in later.

Tonight, I’m dressed in a white baby doll negligee. It looks like the erotic version of something Tinkerbell would wear. Underneath, I’ll be wearing a thong, so people will definitely see my ass. The top of the body is completely see-through, so anyone looking can see my very pink nipples pressing against the white of the fabric.

My hair is up in a tight high ponytail, but the ends flow down long with a hint of a wave covering my shoulders. That is my only covering. The rest of me feels naked and exposed.

Louise gives me a hopeful smile as I step into the crystal ball, and I suck in a breath as it lifts into the air.

I’m on the fifth floor. No one can see me yet. I’m supposed to move when the music starts playing. Salvatore does all the fancy tech. He designed this whole setup, and I felt it was comparable to something you’d see on a movie set.

On my first step, I’ll become visible and activate the crystal ball. Smoke and lights will come on, and so will I.

People will see me. As soon as I step out, men will be watching me, wanting me, probably paying to have me for the night. It might be one, it might be two or three.

Anything means anything at the Dark Odyssey.

The music plays, and I take that step. The lights go on, and although I’m about fifty feet in the air and the music fills the room, I hear it… The sounds of amazement and wonder. A gasp in unison of the crowd below. It’s just like when I used to dance on stage before.

The same magic Mom used to talk about. My mother was my guiding voice and light in the darkest abyss. As long as I danced, the magic would always be in my heart.

It comes to me now, and I’m not here. I’m the girl I was six years ago before the devil placed a ring on my finger and chained my soul to Hell . I’m that girl who stood on the stage of Royce Hall as the prima ballerina. The girl who played Princess Odette, Juliet, Carmen, and many others. I’m the girl who looked out to the crowd and saw her mother watching on with pride.

Even though Mom is gone, the magic is still with me as I move.

I glide in the crystal ball, becoming part of the music. The routine Tatiana made up was simple and effective, reminding me of the opening steps to Swan Lake.

For a moment, I forget where I am and feel amazing.

Over the last few weeks, I practiced every day for hours, but my body remembers how to move naturally. Mom always told me I was born to do this on stage, or in a crystal ball.

I dance, leap, and smile, feeling like my old self again.

The time flies quickly, and smoke arises one final time as I glide in the ball to the last corner of the ceiling. This should be the end now. I’m heading to the lounge, the ball slows on its device, and the light dims in its effect as the smoke rises up.

I twirl into a pirouette as the ball moves, so it gives the illusion I’ve traveled into the step. I then curtsey and bow my head at the end, feeling a sense of relief and accomplishment at my performance.

However, as I lift my head, I see him. The guy from outside in the parking lot. The Bugatti guy. Mr. Gorgeous.

I blink several times, and my nerves spike when I realize it really is him.

He’s sitting in the owners’ lounge with a cigar slinked at the side of his mouth. He’s gazing on at me with that wild interest that captured my attention from earlier. I stared even though I was wary.

I’m still wary, but this guy has a presence about him that breaks down walls whether you’re wary or not. That, coming from someone like me, is a big deal. Looking at a man like that if you’re me is enough to trouble my heart and make my soul quiver.

Reality knocks me when I realize I’m just staring. My nerves spike then when it dawns on me that he could only be sitting in the owner’s lounge because he must be one of the club owners.

Christian. That’s him.

The ball stops a breath away. Light and smoke fade, but I know he’s still watching me, and even though I can’t see him, I can feel his eyes on me.