For Adriano (2 page)

*

I’m jarred from my thoughts by heavy turbulence and the ping of the seatbelt sign, so I adjust my belt.

Where are you now, Cam?

She’s been missing for nine months. My first soldier, Damian, has been working around the clock to find any clue about Cam’s hiding place. I’m hoping for a positive update when my plane lands at Chicago O’Hare Airport. I have to find her, to know that she’s safe, but more importantly, I need to talk to her before James or Luca does.

CHAPTER 2

Camilla

I sit here in this crappy one-bedroom apartment with paint peeling off the yellow colored walls. Before me on the bed is all my cash. It’s a pathetic pile totaling thirty-five dollars. I rummage my hands through my annoyingly long strands of hair in hopelessness. The rent for this place has been paid until the end of the month, which is today, but if I can’t pay for next month, I’ll be forced out.

I bite my nail while my stomach growls in hunger, and I’m tempted to withdraw the fifty dollars I have in my checking account. But as soon as I do that, they’ll know where to find me.

In the nine months that I’ve been on the run, I’ve been living off cash only and haven’t left an electronic trail. A friend helped me hide in Iowa, but when I was told that the Chicago Syndicate was on the hunt for me, I became more and more fearful all the time.

I ran nine months ago because of my former employer, Fat Sal, the owner of Club 7, the Loop’s most debauched underground sex club. Fat Sal is a ruthless Mafia man, and I’m a liability to him.

And apart from Sal, the Chicago Syndicate is also looking for me now. The only reason why they would want me is because of a small device – a bomb – I accidentally dropped outside their headquarters. I never even realized I dropped it; it must’ve fallen out of my pocket the night I helped Fallon escape. I got it from Club 7 and always had it with me in case of danger. Later, I heard it had detonated, and I’m pretty sure the Syndicate knows I’m guilty – they’ll never believe it was an irresponsible accident.

“I can’t believe this!” Discouraged, I swipe the money off the bed with my arm and groan. I’ve never been this broke.

Ever since my mom died of cancer when I was sixteen, I’ve been on my own. I did finish high school while I was in foster care for two years, but I never had the funds to pay for college, and without a college degree, all I could land was a waitressing job in the Loop. I didn’t earn much, but at least I could pay my bills and survive, even if I was living from paycheck to paycheck. I was proud of being able to take care of myself. But I also lived a lonely existence. Sometimes I met new friends, but friendships never lasted somehow. And I had absolutely no family. I always felt a little lost.

My fifth waitressing job was at Club 7. I met Fat Sal when I started working there, at the official Club 7, which is the legal dance club on the first floor. The pay was decent, but the owner was very strict. I’d overhead rumors of an exclusive VIP area underground, which piqued my interest because I thought I could possibly make more money working there. But the employees of the dance club and the underground area were always kept separate, so no matter who I asked, I couldn’t find anyone who knew anything specific about the VIP area. Until I met a new colleague as I was leaving work one day, and she let it slip that she worked in the underground club. She was one of the hostesses, and we became casual friends.

Eventually, curiosity killed the cat, and when the opportunity arose for me to sneak downstairs with the hostess of the underground Club 7, I chose to take it. And that choice, that split-second decision, is my biggest regret.

*

Two years and ten months ago

The hostess has finally found a way to get me into the VIP area since I’m wondering what happens down there. I follow her to doors I didn’t know were an elevator, and we make our descent.

The doors open into a beautiful space with soft music, white draperies on the walls and draped over four-poster bed frames, blood red carpet, and… people fucking; it’s a sex club!

Okay… so this is not the kind of VIP club I expected, but I’m intrigued. My friend is called away and tells me that she’ll be right back and to stay put, but I’m enthralled and stunned by the crowd and decide to wander around just a bit and absorb the quiet, erotic atmosphere.

After I make one trip around the room, I remember that I’m not supposed to be down here, and I hurry back to the elevator to wait for her, but after ten minutes, I figure that she must’ve forgotten me, so I step into it.

I push the button for the first floor, but the elevator goes down another level and opens up into a long hallway. When I push the button again, it doesn’t go back up, and I don’t hear the mechanism turning. I decide to get out when I hear faint noises and follow the sounds until I come upon another passageway that ends at another area. As I move closer to the doorway, I see it’s a completely different world.

A swarm of people is gathered around a center podium where a group of naked women are lined up.

An auctioneer wearing a black mask slams his hammer on the table. “Sold! Ten thousand.”

My eyes widen, and a shudder reverberates through me as I take in my surroundings. A woman screams – she’s covered in blood and hanging on a cross. A man fisting his cock stands next to her, and in his free hand is a knife.

Repulsed, I take a step back while fear creeps up my spine.

What is this place?

A man in a black suit rushes to the woman, and I gasp when he feels for her pulse and drops her arm. Then his head whips around to me. I’m still standing at the rear of the crowd by the doorway, and everyone else is riveted on the naked women being sold, so no one is paying attention to me.

“Who the fuck are you?” he snaps as his hand flies to his earpiece.

Shit!
He’s a bodyguard. “I’m from upstairs, was just on my way back,” I manage to choke out.

He’s on me within seconds, knowing full well that I just witnessed a murder. Grabbing my upper arms, he shoves me backward into the hall and drags me to the elevator, and we move one floor up and to Fat Sal’s office where I hear what will become of my future.

It took me five months to eventually escape. After those five months, I’d changed. I’d hardened. I wasn’t that girl who was easily intimidated anymore, and I now understood that the world is filled with some sick individuals.

*

During the weeks after I fled from Fat Sal, I laid low. Then I found a waitressing job outside the Loop. A job I got fired from – and I still don’t know exactly why – on the same day I met James Calderone. He offered me a way back into the Loop with a job at his private establishment. And a lack of funds convinced me to accept his proposition. When you’re down on your luck, you’ll make unwise decisions. Little did I know that I’d just run from one Mafia man into the arms of another, and I stayed there for a year and a half because of Adriano Montesi.

A few months ago, I finally worked up the courage to visit Club 7 in an effort to find out information concerning a friend. I got in with the help of the hostess of Club 7, who’s apparently missing now, but I had to leave the club quickly when I found out that Luca and Adriano were also inside at the same time. And that’s had me scared that the two powerhouses, Fat Sal and James, might be working together now.

Fat Sal hunts me to kill me. I know too much about his illegal businesses, and he needs me disposed of. The Chicago Syndicate wants me to pay for supposedly planting a bomb at their headquarters.

Or they’re working together because they couldn’t locate me individually and are hoping that with collaborated resources, they’ll find me quicker. And then still, Fat Sal will kill me.

Deciding to get up from the bed, I head over to the filthy window; the view is a brown blur because of the dirt stains on the glass. A crushing feeling of isolation overcomes me on this day that is my birthday. My twenty-seventh birthday I spend alone, so unlike my previous two birthdays, which were spent with Adriano.

*

Two years ago

I turn twenty-five almost three months after I start my job bartending in James’s strip club. Adriano Montesi, the manager of this oddly located little club, has been hovering around me constantly.

I didn’t like Adriano the first few days. He’s wild and untamed. Exactly the kind of guy I need to avoid. He was pompous, too familiar, and flirted relentlessly – and not only with me. The instant we met, I could read the mischief in his dark brown eyes. Every inch of Adriano’s tall frame absolutely radiates raw power and leashed sensuality, and he’s too handsome for his own good. He has a face created for sin, messy black hair that never seems to stay in place, and is always wearing a tailored suit, without the jacket. He knows exactly the effect he has on women, and that irritated me, so I didn’t give him the time of day beyond being professional and aloof.

But he’s a man used to getting what he wants, and I’m beginning to crack around him. He keeps seeking me out, and his charismatic behavior is wearing me down; my armor is breaking.

I’ve kept a reasonable distance from all the men so far. I get paid on time, and for now, I’m safe from Fat Sal here, but I can’t figure out exactly who these guys are and what they do. I’m almost positive they’re drug dealers because they’re all wealthy and give off that vibe. I also wonder if they might be a gang because I see the same men among the clientele night after night. And although I was told this is a ‘strip club’, it appears to actually be some kind of sex club, because there’s stripping, yes, but these women go above and beyond just taking their clothes off. And I think these men are called ‘the Syndicate’; I’ve definitely overhead that name.

While I’m wiping off the bar in the almost empty room, Adriano walks in.

I lift a brow and cross my arms over my chest. “You again?”

“Ah, your heartwarming welcome heats my insides, Cam,” he answers playfully.

I saw Adriano this morning. He’s often here either when I start my shift or at the end, but he’s never taken me home. A driver picks me up and drops me off at night.

“You don’t even give me a chance to miss you.” I continue my cleaning, and Adriano covers my hand with his, stopping my movement. I look up into his eyes while the heat of his grip burns into my skin.

“How long until you’re finished?” he asks, his face close to mine.

He does this often, invades my personal space. I used to let him goad me, but not anymore. Now I start to play with him. I
want
to play with him. “Why?”

He leans in closer to my ear and whispers, “I’m your escort.”

I frown, then my brows shoot up. “Escort? You’re offering to let me pay to have sex with you?”

Adriano rears back with a crease in his forehead. Confused, he says, “What?”

“What?”

“What are you talking about?” Understanding dawns on him as confusion is replaced with a Cheshire Cat grin.

“What?! No… You’re being weirdly cryptic,” I fire back in defense. Oh, he meant escort as in driver, not whore.

Adriano tugs me around the bar and presses my back against it. “I like the way you’re thinking, Cam, but unfortunately, I meant that I’ll be driving you home tonight.”

My embarrassment is pushed aside by a swoosh of excitement. Adriano never acts as driver for the staff. I’m enjoying his company too much. I shouldn’t indulge in his attention, because I’ve eavesdropped on many conversations since I started my job, and I know he’s slept with at least two girls who work here. And the other men have let it slip how many women have fallen under Adriano’s spell, only to get hurt the next day when he moves on to someone else. Still, I gravitate toward him. His undeniable charm is a force to be reckoned with. And I’m really enjoying our banter.

I tilt my head and place my palm on his chest, creating a distance between us. “Why are
you
my driver tonight?”

His lips curl up into a wicked smile. “Because I never have you alone.”

“Does that work on other women?” I reply sarcastically.

Adriano shrugs and takes my hand in his.

He’s always acting so forward. And it feels strangely nice; I’m not even surprised anymore when he makes these intimate gestures.

I reach for my purse under the bar behind me, and as I turn around, he’s ogling my ass unashamedly. “Get a good look, my friend?” I put my hands on my hips.

That damn irresistible smirk curves his lips. “Not really; could you turn around?” He actually rotates his finger in the air.

I simply glare at him.

“And maybe bend over?” he adds with a chuckle.

Deciding to ignore his taunts – or else he’ll continue on this path the entire ride home – I tow him with me out the door to the car.

I’ve dozed off in his comfortable BMW and now awaken when Adriano softly calls my name. “Cam.” He brushes my hair out of my face. “Wake up. You’re home.”

My eyes flutter open to collide directly with his. He’s so near, his body heat emanating from him. My hand automatically touches his unshaven jaw, and his eyelids fall closed. I graze my fingertips over his lips.

He lets me explore him without making a smartass comment to break the enchantment like he usually does.

Neither of us interrupts the quietness of our moment. Neither of us moves closer.

Looking at him up close and personal, I trace the tips of my fingers down his cheek. His hand laces into my hair, cradling my head, and I caress his long, thick lashes.