• CHAPTER ONE •
KIERA
The metal of the pole was freezing against my bare thighs, but the heat in the Underbelly was more suffocating.
I spun on the pole with a tight grip, letting the bass of the music guide my body as I descended to the stage. It wasn't a glamorous performance but a dangerous one.
My shoulders ached, the arches of my feet burned and the air smelled heavily of spilled beer and cheap cologne. But every twist of my hips, every fake smile I threw at the shouting men in the front row was a dollar closer to Ronan's next treatment. I didn't look at their faces, if I did, I'd lose the numbness that kept me standing.
The song slowly faded, and I ended the performance with a last swing before getting off the pole. I walked off the stage to scattered applause and whistling.
"Selene," Jax, my manager, called out, intercepting me near the backstage lockers. He looked nervous, chewing on a plastic toothpick. "Don't go home yet. Someone upstairs requested you. Private room four."
I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. "No. I did my shift, Jax. I'm going home to my family."
He didn't look angry, rather, he looked desperate. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, matte black card. "He didn't even ask for a menu, Selene. He threw this down and told me he wanted the girl with the silver laced mask. Ten grand just to have you sit in the room. He's stinky rich and apparently bored out of his mind."
Ten thousand dollars.
That was months for Ronan's medication, food, rent and school fees for Kiara.
I gritted my teeth as I stared at the black card. "No touching," I warned. "No s*x. If he reaches for me, I'm out, Jax."
"Of course, of course," Jax said, nodding his head as he handed me the key card. "Just go up and keep him entertained."
He hurried off, leaving me alone in the narrow, dim corridor. I walked back to my private dressing room, intending to at least wipe the heavy makeup from my eyes and put on a decent cover up.
I unlocked the door, stepped inside and was about to slide my robe off when the door opened behind me with a loud bang as if someone forced their way in.
"This is a private-" The words died in my throat as I turned around. My heart hammered against my ribs as Andres staggered into the small space. He reeked of whiskey and sweat, his clothes disheveled, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused.
"Andres..." I took a step back, my heart was still hammering fast against my ribs. "How the hell did you get past security?"
"You think you can just ignore me?" He slurred, slamming his fist against the mirror beside him. My eyes trailed to his now bloody fist and back to his bloodshot eyes. He took a heavy, unsteady step toward me, his body shaking with rage. "I've been watching you in that stage, Selene. Huh? Dressing up like a w***e while I'm out there begging for a second chance?"
"Get out," I said, my voice rising as I backed up until the edge of my makeup vanity table hit my lower back. "We are done, Andres. We've been done for months. You need to leave before I scream-"
"You won't scream," he snarled. The pathetic, drunken slob suddenly vanished, replaced by the violent volatile who made my life a living hell for three years. He lunged foward, his fingers digging into my shoulders with a brushing force. "You're coming back to me. You hear me? I love you. I gave you everything and you think you can just dance for other men?"
"Let go of me!" I clawed at his wrists, but he was fueled by alcohol and rage. He threw his weight foward, slamming me against the wall. The back of my head hit the wall, sending a volent wave of dizziness behind my eyes. Before I could draw breath to scream, his thick hands clamped around my throat.
"If I can't have you, nobody will," He whispered, his face inches from mine, his breath was hot and foul against my skin. "I will kill you, Selene. I swear to God. I will kill you then kill myself. We'd both die right here."
My air was cutting off short by the second. My lungs screamed for oxygen. I thrashed, kicking my legs, my fingernails scratching deep bloodly welts into his arms, but his grip only tightened. The room began to gray at the edges, the buzzing in my ears grew into a defeaning roar. My vision was failing, spots of black swallowing the cheap lightbulbs of the dressing room.
My babies. I thought as a desperate agonizing panic seizing my chest. Who will save Ronan? Who will take care of Kiara?
Bang.
The sound was defeaning, a physical shockwave that rattled the small room.
Instantly the pressure on my throat vanished. Something warm and smelled metallic sprayed violently across my face and chest. Andres's eyes went wide and completely blank, his body slumped to the side like a puppet with its strings cut. He hit the floor with a heavy, sickening thud.
I collapsed to my knees beside him, drawing in a massive, ragged gasp of air that burned my throat. I coughed violently, my hands shaking as I wiped the wet dark blood from my cheeks.
"I was wondering where my dancer was." A deep voice from the shadows drawled.
My eyes darted to the doorway. A man stood there, silhouetted by the dim hallway light. In his hand, a black pistol was pointed lazily at the floor, a thin wisp of gray smoke curling from the barrel. He slowly reached over, clicking the light switch on the wall and stepped into the room.
The harsh fluorescent light washed over him.
He wore a tailored suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. His dark hair was styled back, but a few stray locks fell over his forehead. His face was older, harder and carved with a lethal, aristocratic beauty that made the breath catch in my throat.
His deep hazel eyes stared down at me coldly.
"You always did have terrible taste in men, Selene," he said, the familiarity of his voice now hitting deep. It was a smooth deep baritone that I heard in my nightmares for six long years. He smiled and tilted his neck. "Or shall I say, Kiera?"
Lorenzo.
