My mother had likely never paid any attention to mafioso families. She’d lived a sheltered life with my father. I doubted they even understood the true meaning of the word crime. “Clinton Cross. He’s very handsome.”
When I heard a knock on the door, my heart pitter-pattered. I took long strides, returning to the bathroom to grab my things.
“What did you say?” she asked. It almost sounded like her voice was shaking.
“Mom. I gotta go. He’s here.”
“Baby girl. Wait. You can’t.”
“I can’t what?” I could tell she was flustered. I headed for the door, uncertain why she was acting this way. “Mama. What? Date the boss?”
“Yes. Yes, that’s it.”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” I heard the demanding tone in my voice and admonished myself for trying with my mother. She and my father had been strange for the past few years, never talking much about the past. I’d stopped asking after I’d moved out. “What secrets are you keeping from me, Mother?”
The tension was strange. Suddenly, my heart was beating erratically.
“We should talk. Your father and I think it’s time. Maybe we should have told you before.”
“Time? What are you talking about?” The second knock on the door was more insistent. “I need to go.”
“Please. Don’t go out with him. I beg you.”
“Mama, you don’t need to worry because he wasn’t the one who hired me. Love and kisses. I need to go.” I ended the call before things got stupid. Even for her, trying to dictate who I dated was unusual.
The fear in her voice had been palpable.
My mother had never been very good at confiding in me, even when I’d asked questions about a memory loss that troubled me today. The doctors had told me that one day the missing months would return, but I wasn’t certain I believed them any longer.
Or maybe I didn’t want to remember what I’d endured during the accident, the one everyone refused to expound on the details. Why had my mother chosen now?
And why had she been so nervous about my trip to Chicago? My thoughts drifted to the single article I’d just read, making a mental note to do some additional checking tomorrow. For now, I’d enjoy my evening.
I pressed my hands down my dress, then opened the door. Christian was leaning against the alcove wall, his legs crossed and his hands shoved into his pockets. He was dressed in all black, the luxurious material of his long sleeve shirt unbuttoned to the midway point on his chest. I noticed a dazzling display of ink I hadn’t seen before, the intricate scrolling art drifting up to his neck. His trousers were also obsidian in color, accentuating his long, muscular legs. He wore a dark expression as his eyes traveled down to my high heels.
“You look radiant,” he said in a half whisper. This time as he spoke, I was certain I detected a hint of his Latin accent. The tone was sensual, enticing, and I was just as drawn to him as I had been the others.
“I must admit, you don’t look too bad yourself.”
His face lit up, the smile crossing his face an unexpected surprise. “Not too bad. I think I like that. Are you ready to go?”
“Where are we going exactly?”
“Now if I told you that, then it wouldn’t be a surprise. Would it?”
He stood back as I walked out the door, immediately pressing his hand against the small of my back, guiding me towards the elevators. There was an entirely different energy about him, a level of sexual dominance that ebbed and flowed beneath his gorgeous exterior. He was also possessive, which I realized I appreciated.
As we waited for the elevator, he crowded my space, taking a deep breath. I hadn’t noticed the two-day stubble before, but it added character to his strong jaw.
“Tell me more about yourself, Maria. What do you do if you’re not singing your little heart out?”
I almost retorted with a question about what he did when he wasn’t hunting down and killing his enemies. He was the most brutal of the three men, his kills in South America legendary, people on several continents terrified of him.
“You already know the basics. Halo takes up the majority of my time, which means I have few hobbies. At this point in my career, I spend a lot of time on the road with my band.”
“Does that make you happy?”
“Why shouldn’t it?”
He seemed thoughtful about his response. “Because often what we allow ourselves to be dragged into isn’t what we would have chosen for ourselves.”
I wasn’t certain if anyone had asked if I was happy before. “That makes me think you’re the unhappy one.”
Christian laughed. “How could I be unhappy? I’m a wealthy, powerful man with all the toys money can buy.”
There was a haunting sound in his voice. He wasn’t happy at all.
“Well, being a musician is what I’ve wanted since I could remember. Not singing would kill me.”
“I’m curious. What else would you do if you weren’t singing?”
“Honestly, I have no idea. What do you do?” In my internet search, I’d come to the conclusion that all three men were as respected as they were feared. If I was a smart girl, I would have backed out from the date. I’d been far too intrigued to do so.
“I’m going to venture a guess that you’ve already determined that.” As the elevator pinged, the corners of his mouth turned up, his eyes piercing mine.
“You would be right.”
“Good girl.” He guided me into the empty elevator, pressing the button, then backing me against the wall. “Are you a very good girl, Maria? Or would you consider yourself naughty?”
“That depends on the situation.”
“An honest answer.” He pressed both hands on the cold steel, lowering his head. “You are aware that for every infraction there are consequences?”
“Isn’t that the code we live by, or do you refuse to follow any man’s rules?”
“You are a very feisty woman. I can tell I’m going to thoroughly enjoy tonight’s festivities.”
Why did I have a feeling he was choosing his words carefully?
I tilted my chin, daring him in a sense to kiss me, which was what I’d wanted to do since meeting him earlier in the day.
He exhaled and the elongated breath was full of fire. Then he didn’t just kiss me. He devoured my mouth, a dying man desperate for his last taste. As he swept his tongue past my lips, he crushed his body against mine, his hard, throbbing cock pushing into my stomach. I was instantly lightheaded, no other sound capable of cutting through the rapid thudding of my heart.
I pressed my hands against his chest, clawing my fingers into his shirt as if holding on for dear life. He rolled one hand down my side, the brush of his fingers electrifying. I pushed hard, breaking the moment of passion long enough to take a deep breath. He chuckled in a deep throated vibration as he rolled his hand down my thigh, gathering the material of my dress into his fingers.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he whispered in an unrecognizable voice. “But before that, I’m going to feast on your sweet pussy.” His words were merely a statement of things to come. There would be no saying no to any of the three men.
Not that I wanted to.
He returned to the kiss, dominating my tongue as he slipped his fingers under the thin elastic of my thong. The moment he thrust a single long digit past my swollen folds, I Maria onto my tiptoes, daring to slide my hand down his chest, flicking a single finger back and forth across his thick bulge.
I had no doubt the moment of pure sin wouldn’t have stopped if the loud ping of the elevator reaching its destination hadn’t interfered. He broke the kiss, laughing softly, taking his sweet time to ease his hand from under my dress. When he did, he cocked his head and rolled the tip of his slickened finger across my lips.
“You truly are a very bad girl. You will surrender to everything I command.” With that, he took my hand in his, dragging me from the elevator and onto the main lobby floor. I sensed various guests watching us as we strode through the sublimely decorated area.
“Maria!” The single syllable was like a battle cry.
Within seconds, I felt a crush of people, at least two hundred of them surrounding us. I noticed the van of a local station parked outside the entrance doors. While there wasn’t a chance in hell they’d arrived at the hotel on the off chance I’d be leaving the building, the reporters certainly didn’t mind taking the opportunity to add to their fifteen minutes of fame.
“That’s Maria,” someone said.
“She’s beautiful,” a deep voice said from another direction. Almost instantly, Christian growled, shifting his hand to the small of my back.
When a little girl jumped in front of me, we almost collided. I burst into laughter and was aware that at least a dozen photographs were being taken.
Without hesitation, I crouched down. “Well, what’s your name?”
“My name’s Maria too,” she chirped. The little girl was adorable, her bright red hair and freckles just about the cutest thing I’d seen in a while.
“Well, Maria. Would you like an autograph?”
“Pu-lease.”
“I’m sorry,” a breathless woman said as she approached. “I couldn’t catch her. She just had to see you. You’re her favorite star in the whole world.”
“The whole wide world!” the little girl repeated, stretching her arms out wide.
“Well, in that case. We must get a picture together. Yes, mama?”
“Oh, God. You’ve just made her year. Hold on. I have some paper too if you don’t mind an autograph.”
As the mother got everything together, I glanced at Christian. His expression reminded me of a guard dog, his eyes almost pitch black from the glint of the last rays of sunlight, his brow furrowed and his jaw hard as a rock. He constantly scanned the area, and I honestly wondered if he was more worried about someone coming after him or after me.
For some reason, several colds shivers jetted down my spine.
“Here we are,” the mother said, and I grabbed up the little girl, squeezing her tight. When I finished giving her an autograph and a kiss, I could tell there were other people who wanted to have their pictures taken with me. Christian was having none of it.
“Get out of the way!” he barked, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me towards the entrance.
“Hold on. Those are my fans. I have a job to do.”
He ignored me and I resisted struggling because I knew it would make the front page of some shitty ragtag online magazine.
“They want more than that.”
As we hit the wall of glass doors, I noticed a huge Suburban in black, the windows tinted so no one could see inside. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. The driver immediately climbed out and opened the door, ushering us inside. The guy could only be described as a brute, at least six foot four, weighing over two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle.
And I had no doubt he had a weapon tucked into a holster under his jacket.
Photographers and fans came from everywhere. I’d been an idiot to think I could go out on a date without being seen. If Christian was recognized or the vehicle which likely belonged to Clinton, the morning news should be juicy. Was that what they were trying to do? If so, why?
“Our little pet arrives,” Clinton’s deep voice rumbled in the stylized back of the SUV. His gaze was predatory with a hint of annoyance for the length of time it had taken us. The intensity lingered, the scent of testosterone thick.
“Our little star,” Weston teased.
“I can’t ignore my fans.” I eased against the plush leather seat, suddenly feeling as if I’d stepped into a lion’s den, the three beasts inside famished.
The interior had been altered significantly, now resembling the posh environment of a Limo. I wasn’t surprised that there was a bar, a bottle of champagne already on ice. Jazz music was playing from unseen speakers. And the other two men sat dressed in similar attire-trousers and an open shirt. While Weston had chosen white, accenting his rich chocolate eyes, Clinton had selected cobalt blue, the color dazzling with his long, dark curly hair.
“The photograph with the little girl will be in all the major papers tomorrow,” Christian mused.
Why did I have the distinct feeling his statement wasn’t said out of admiration or making polite conversation about their dinner guest? Both Weston and Clinton smiled, glancing from one to the other as if this was nothing but a game.
“Our popular, beautiful pet,” Clinton said as he poured a glass of champagne, leaning over and handing it to me. The immediate jolt of current created a rippling effect, my heart racing and butterflies tickling my stomach. He allowed the touch to linger, drinking in my essence before letting go. “However, from now on, you will follow the rules that we’ve established.”
“Rules?” I continued to quiver, the touch far too enigmatic. “What if I don’t follow them?”
Weston shifted towards me and slid his hand along the outside of my leg, resting his palm on my thigh. “Then, our beautiful little lamb. You will be punished.”
Christian smiled as he locked eyes with mine. “Yes, sweet Maria. As of now, you have three masters because you belong to us.”
As I lifted the glass of champagne for a sip or a gulp, a strange set of sensations surrounded me, fog drifting before my periphery of vision. Then as it cleared, a strong vision replaced reality, one so vivid that I couldn’t tell if it was a fantasy or a memory.
“That’s where you’re wrong. You have three masters now. Make no mistake that when we take you, and that will happen, you will learn what pleasure is. When you come the first time, you’ll beg for more, exhausted and overwhelmed with raw ecstasy. And I assure you that it will be the beginning of a beautiful affair. Every hole will be well used, but you’ll crave more, begging the man who owns you to continue making you weak.”
“No,” I managed, but the pleasure he was providing was already luring me into a place of surrender.
“Yes, little pet. After we’ve broken you down, we’ll put you together piece by piece. Then we’ll start all over again. As of right now, this very moment, you belong to us.”
When it faded, I lifted my head, studying the three men who’d laid claim as if I was always meant to belong to them.
And for the first time in my life, I was terrified.
Or was it the first time?
Something was off. I had to find out what.
And more importantly, why.