Dark, Dangerous, & Mine

Chapter 23

23

Nora

By the time we walk out of the restaurant, I feel like I’m in seventh heaven. Our dinner tonight was the closest thing we’ve had to a real date, and for the first time in months, I’m feeling hopeful about the future.

We may never be “normal,” but that doesn’t mean we can’t be happy.

As we drive to the club, I allow myself that daydream again, the one where Julian and I are a family. It feels more real now, more substantial. For the first time, I can picture us raising our child together. It wouldn’t be easy, and we’d constantly be surrounded by guards, but we could do it. We could make it work. We’d live on the estate most of the time, but we’d travel too. We’d visit my parents and friends, and we’d go to places in Europe and Asia. I would have a career as an artist, and Julian’s business would be something that’s in the background of our lives, instead of front and center.

It wouldn’t be the kind of life I dreamed of when I was younger, but it would be a good life nonetheless.

It takes us half an hour to get to the club in downtown traffic. When we exit the car, Rosa is already standing there, waiting for us. Seeing me, she grins and runs up to the car.

“Nora, you look gorgeous,” she exclaims before turning to Julian. “And you too, Señor.” She gives us a huge, beaming smile. “Thank you so much for taking me with you tonight. I’ve been dying to go to a real American nightclub.”

“I’m glad you were able to come,” I tell her, smiling. “You look amazing.” And she does. In sexy red heels and a short yellow dress that plays up her curves, Rosa looks hot enough to be a pinup girl.

“Do you really think so?” she says eagerly. “I got this dress in the city on Thursday. I was worried it might be too much.”

“There’s no such thing,” I say firmly. “You look absolutely phenomenal. Now, come, let’s go dance.” And grabbing her arm, I lead her to the club entrance, with an amused-looking Julian following on our heels.

Despite the club’s location in an older, seedier part of downtown Chicago, there is a long line of people waiting by the door. The place must be even more popular now than it was two years ago. As we walk by, the men eye both me and Rosa, while the women gawk at Julian. I don’t blame those women, even though some dark part of me wants to gouge their eyes out. My husband dressed up tonight, putting on a sharply tailored blazer and dark designer jeans, and he looks effortlessly hot, like a movie star coming out of a film premiere. Of course, movie stars don’t usually conceal guns and knives under their stylish jackets, but I’m trying not to think about that.

One word from Julian to the bouncer, and we’re inside, bypassing the waiting crowd. Nobody checks our IDs, not even at the bar where Julian buys Rosa a drink. I wonder if it’s because Julian’s men already warned the club management about us.

Either way, it’s pretty neat.

It’s only ten o’clock, but the club is already hopping, the latest pop and dance hits blaring from the speakers. Even though I’ve had no alcohol, I feel high, drunk with excitement. Laughing, I grab Rosa and Julian and drag them both to the dance floor, where tons of people are already grinding against one another.

When we get to the middle of the dance floor, Julian spins me around and pulls me against him, holding me from the back as we begin moving to the music. I instantly realize what he’s doing. With the way he’s holding me, I’m facing Rosa, and the three of us are sort of dancing together, but it’s Julian’s big body that surrounds me. Nobody can touch me, either on purpose or by accident, not without going through him first.

Even in the middle of a crowded dance floor, I belong to Julian and Julian alone.

Rosa grins, apparently also realizing Julian’s agenda. She’s even more excited than me, her eyes sparkling as she shakes her booty to the latest Lady Gaga song. Before long, a couple of good-looking young guys sidle up to her, and I watch, grinning, as she begins to flirt with them and gradually moves away from me and Julian.

As soon as she’s occupied, Julian turns me around to face him. “How are you feeling, baby?” he asks, his deep voice cutting through the blasting music. The colored lights flicker over his face, making him look surreally handsome. “Any tiredness? Nausea?”

“No.” Smiling, I vigorously shake my head. “I’m perfect. Better than perfect, in fact.”

“Yes, you are,” he murmurs, pulling me tighter against him, and I flush all over as I feel the hard bulge in his pants. He wants me, and my body responds immediately, the pulsing beat of the music echoing the sudden ache in my core. We’re surrounded by people, but all of them seem to fade away as we stare at one another, our bodies beginning to move together in a primal, s****l rhythm. My breasts swell, my n*****s pebbling as I press my chest against his, and even through the layers of clothing we’re wearing, I can feel the heat coming off his large body… the same kind of heat that’s building within myself.

“f**k, baby,” he breathes, staring down at me. His hips rock back and forth as we sway together, driven as much by our need for each other as the music’s beat. “You can’t wear this f*****g dress ever again.”

“The dress?” I stare up at him, my body burning. “You think it’s the dress?”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them to meet my gaze. “No,” he says hoarsely. “It’s not the dress, Nora. It’s you. It’s always f*****g you.”

I half-expect him to drag me away then, but he doesn’t. Instead, he loosens his grip on me, putting a couple of inches of space between us. I can still feel his body against mine, but the raw sexuality of the moment is reduced, enabling me to breathe again. We dance like that for a few more songs, and then I begin to feel thirsty.

“Can I please get some water?” I ask, raising my voice to be heard above the music, and Julian nods, leading me toward the bar. As we pass by Rosa, I see that she’s still dancing with those two guys, seemingly content to be sandwiched between them. I give her a wink and a discreet thumbs-up, and then we’re out of the dancing, writhing crowd.

Julian gets me a glass filled with ice water, and I gratefully chug it down, feeling parched. He smiles as he watches me drink, and I know he’s remembering it too—our first meeting, right here by this bar.

As we turn to go back to the dance floor, I see Rosa walking toward the back, where the bathrooms are. She waves at me, grinning, and I wave back before turning to Julian.

“Let’s dance some more,” I say, grabbing his hand, and we dive back into the crowd just as a new song begins.

A few minutes later, I start to feel it—the familiar sensation of an overly full bladder.

“I have to pee,” I tell Julian, and he grins, leading me off the dance floor again. We walk together to the back of the club, and I get in line to the girls’ bathroom while Julian leans against the wall, watching as I wait my turn in the shadowed, circular hallway leading to the restrooms. I wonder if he’s guarding me even here and almost snicker at the idea of him being worried enough to accompany me to the ladies’ room.

Thankfully, he doesn’t. Instead, he stays by the entrance to the narrow hallway, his arms crossed over his chest.

The line is long, and it takes almost fifteen minutes to get to my destination. When my turn finally comes, I step into the small three-stall room and do my business. It’s only when I’m washing my hands that it occurs to me that Rosa disappeared in this direction, and I haven’t seen her come out since.

Pulling out my phone from my tiny purse, I text Julian: Did Rosa walk by you? Do you see her anywhere?

There’s no immediate answer, so I step out of the bathroom, about to head back, when a flash of something red a dozen feet away catches my attention. Frowning, I walk deeper into the circular hallway, past the restrooms, and then I see it.

A red, high-heeled shoe lying discarded on the floor.

My heart skips a beat.

Bending down, I pick it up, and a chill skitters down my spine.

There’s no doubt now. It’s Rosa’s shoe.

My pulse speeding up, I straighten, looking around, but I don’t see her anywhere. With the way the hallway curves, even the bathroom line is out of sight now.

Dropping the shoe, I pull out my phone again. There is a text from Julian in response to mine: No, I don’t see her.

I begin to type out a reply, but at that moment, a door I hadn’t noticed before swings open a few feet away.

A short, skinny guy steps out, closing the door behind him, and leans against the door frame.

A young guy, I realize, looking at him. More like a boy in his teens, his pale, freckled face unmarred by the slightest hint of stubble. His posture is casual, almost lazy, but something about the way he glances at me gives me pause.

“Excuse me.” I approach him carefully, wrinkling my nose at the strong smell of alcohol and cigarettes coming off him. “Have you seen my friend? She’s wearing a yellow dress—”

He spits on the floor in front of me. “Get the f**k outta here, bitch.”

I’m so startled I step back. Then anger blasts through me, mixing with adrenaline. “Excuse me?” My hands curl into fists. “What did you just call me?”

The teenager’s posture changes, becoming more combative. “I said—”

And at that moment, I hear it.

A woman’s scream behind the door, followed by the sound of something falling.

My adrenaline levels surge. Without thinking, I step forward and swing upward with my right fist, just as Julian taught me. The momentum of my move adds to the force of the blow, and the guy gasps as my fist slams into his solar plexus. He starts to double over, and at that moment, my knee comes up, crushing his balls.

He bends over with a high-pitched scream, clutching his crotch, and I grab the back of his neck, using the momentum to pull him forward as I stick my right foot out.

It works even better than in training.

He pitches forward, arms flailing, and his head hits the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. Then he slides to the floor, his body limp and unmoving in front of me.

Shaking, I gape at it. I can’t believe I just did that.

I can’t believe I took down a guy in a fight—even if that guy was a drunk teenage boy.

Another scream behind the door snaps me out of my daze.

I recognize that voice now, and a fresh burst of adrenaline sends my heartbeat soaring. Operating solely on instinct, I jump over the young guy’s fallen body and push open the door.

The room inside is long and narrow, with another door at the far end. A stained couch is by that door—and on that couch is my friend, struggling and sobbing under a man.

For a second, I’m too frozen to react, and then I notice streaks of red on the bright yellow of Rosa’s torn dress.

A hot, dark rage explodes in my chest, sweeping away all remnants of caution.

“Let her go!” I yell, rushing into the room. Startled, the guy jumps off Rosa, and then, as if recalling his vile agenda, grabs her by the hair and drags her off the couch.

“Nora!” Rosa screams hysterically, pointing at something behind me.

Horrified, I spin around, but it’s too late.

The other man is already on me, the back of his hand flying toward my face.

The blow knocks me into the wall, the impact of the hit jarring every bone in my back.

Dazed, I sink down to the floor, and through the ringing in my ears, I hear a man’s voice say, “You can f**k that one if you want. I’ll take my turn with this one in the car.”

And as rough hands start tearing at my clothes, I see Rosa’s attacker dragging her toward the door on the far side of the room.