by Kali Brixton
But the real question is, which one belongs to my Evergreen?
“Holy hell. She’s going to dance,” one of the older gentlemen says as a woman stands near the silks hanging from the ceiling, readying herself. Her curvy frame is silhouetted in the dim lighting, but it almost appears as if she’s naked. Ev picked up the silks in college, which is the only reason I know what the fuck they are.
“Damn. How long’s it been?”
“A long fucking time. It’s hard to win a bet when she’s never on stage.”
Bet?
The guy in the gray suit takes a sip of his top-shelf whiskey. “How much is it now?”
Blue suit man thinks for a moment. “Seventy thousand now, I believe.”
What the fuck?
“Hell, I’d forgo the money just to have her bounce on my cock for a while.”
What does this girl have? The gate to Heaven between her thighs?
“I like the girls who have some meat on their bones. Something to grab onto when you’re pounding into them.”
As skivvy as these guys were coming off, I couldn’t agree more. Gia’s gorgeous in a modelesque way, but other than the few kisses she’s planted on my cheek, we’ve never been intimate. The last girl I was with had curves for days and was the perfect blend of thick and fit. God, and that snug fit around my cock as I held her naturally large yet perky breasts…
Okay, now’s not the time to get a fucking hard-on, fantasizing about the girl you see every time you feel the urge to release some tension. The reason you’re here in the first place.
The lights lower as a song I recognize from one of my Napster playlists filters through the speakers. The odd combination of chainsaws revving up and the heavy bass draws you into the song as everyone awaits the performance. I just want to find my sister and get some answers on Ev or to find her and hear it all straight from the horse’s mouth.
Slowly, the lights raise as the performer works her way up the long curtains; the music complementing her precision, timing, and grace.
And...holy fuck. Is that girl naked?
Silks girl is twirling and moving the soft pieces of material around her body like it’s part of her. The pale pallor of her skin is covered in sparkly things with her silver hair pinned up. A white mask conceals who she is from the room, as with every girl here.
I glance around to see if I can spot Lia anywhere as everyone’s stopped what they’re doing to watch this woman weave her spell over the crowd. Nothing.
One of the lines to the song asks how someone can be so blind to what’s around them, and I wonder if this girl’s dealt with a man that can’t see past his own stupidity to see her, really see her.
Just like how I see Everleigh, even though she thinks I don’t, that I didn’t.
But I always did.
The song continues as my attention keeps pulling back to the dancer on the silks. Has Ev ever performed on them before? Man, I’d give any to see her in a getup like this, dancing and moving, seducing and playing coy.
The song finally ends, and she descends from the stage to wolf-whistling and applause throughout the room. She weaves through the room as I take another glance around, trying to spot my sister. Giving up, I reach in my back pocket and pull out my phone to text her.
Me: Where are you?
The guys beside me compliment the dancer as she walks by. “Fucking amazing, Madam Isis.”
She was pretty awesome, I’ll give them that much. But she’ll never be like my Evergreen.
“Thank you, gentlemen.”
The hairs on the back of my neck raise. That voice. Then, it hit me like a ton of bricks.
There’s one reason and one reason only she can’t be like my Evergreen—because she is my Evergreen.
I turn but notice she’s past my table already, leaving me in a stupor. One of the girls who works here tells her Madam Siren asked for her to come to the office for a moment.
Seriously, Lia? You’re going to warn her that I’m here?
“I’ll be right there. I’m going to stop by my room for a moment.”
Her room.
She saunters off, that unmistakable natural sway to her hips she’s had for all eternity and makes her way down a dark hall, her best parts covered strategically by glittering gems.
Watching her disappear down the corridor, I realize I’m still in a seat and not getting the answers I need. Move your ass, dickhead. I move out of the booth like the world’s on fire, which truth be told, mine now is.
She turns a knob to go into a room, my legs racing to catch up with her.
Disappearing into the room, she’s gone from my sight, but she’s not slipping through my fingers again.
I open the door wide and find her back turned to me, unaware I’m in there with her. I look around at semi-familiar surroundings. Memories push through, fragments at a time. Of this silver-haired woman unstrapping me from the chair to my left. Her wiping my face off after I puked my guts up. Her holding a can of Sprite to my lips so I could drink. All little pieces of the kind of person Everleigh is, right before my eyes, and I was too damn drunk to see it.
But I see now, Ev. I see.
“Sir, you’re going to have to return to the floor. There are no private dances in here,” she says, rooting around for something in a cabinet, her back still turned to me.
“No.” My answer is absolute and resounds throughout the room, causing her to still.
Her head whips around as she stares at me, hiding behind contacts so blue, they’re almost white. I take a tentative step toward her, but she doesn’t move—a deer frozen in the headlights because she wasn’t expecting it to be me.
I slowly close the distance between us as she watches me, my steps purposeful, meaningful.
Her smell hits me, that same fragrant perfume I loved having on my pillows after she slept in my bed, comforting me and boiling my already hot blood, something I’ve missed so much over the years we’ve been apart.
Her dark red lips part as if she’s in shock but can’t get control of her senses. I take in her outfit again, now seeing the shape of someone I know so well, refined even more by the years.
Our breaths wrap around each other as we stand so close, and I raise my hand to her chin, grazing my thumb over her smooth jawline as it ascends to the piece that hides her away from me. I grip the edge of her white feather mask, so seductive and innocent all at the same time, and slowly peel it away.
She does nothing but stares at me with those contact-covered eyes, watchfully waiting. The mask falls away from her face and drops to the floor. “Evergreen.”
Her breath catches as does mine, her surprise of seeing me the same I felt earlier today. All thoughts of why I originally came here fade away as I stand here, enjoying her presence. Hoping she won’t buck against my touch, I bring my hand to her face once more and cup her cheek, whispering, “It’s really you, isn’t it?”
Everleigh
I can’t move. I literally can’t speak. Because the two halves of my separate worlds just collided in an unforeseen way. And now Luca stands in the same room I cared for him in last year, the night of his engagement party…
My stupor fades away, and my mind regains some control. I reach up to the hand of his cupping my cheek, and even though its warmth is bleeding through my pores and into my affection-starved soul, I gently push it away. “You shouldn’t be here.” Because he should be where the girl he’s marrying in less than two weeks is.
“I’m where I belong.”
Little jabs of hurt pierce my skin as I turn away from him. “How did you know?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Tax returns.”
Of course. I knew they’d eventually lead him here to me, but I thought I’d be prepared for his judgment, his disapproval. “If you’re here to judge me, I wouldn’t bother. I won’t be dancing here anymore after tonight.”
“I just want to know one thing…”
Here it comes. The Do You Sleep with Men for Money? quest
ion. The one everyone wonders or assumes about someone who works in a place like this.
“Are you happy here?”
I flick my gaze at him. “That’s what you want to know?”
He nods twice, leaving the floor to me.
“I…” How do I answer this? “I never wanted this, no.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Then, how did you end up here?”
The real reason comes to the forefront, pushing past every excuse my mind is trying to think up. “I had to protect my family.”
His brows pinch together. “You’re working here…because of your family.”
Wasn’t I? I had worked at The Devil’s Playground to keep the Devil away from my family. I had agreed to be a part of RISE because of my chosen family. “Yes.”
Instead of flying off the handles, he does the strangest thing. He asks me, “Will you tell me everything?”
He didn’t demand an answer like he would have before we slept together. He didn’t fly off the handles and assume a crap ton of bullshit. He asked. With all pretenses gone, I motion toward the seat he sat in all those months ago. And once he’s seated, I tell the two sides of my story.
Luca
After Everleigh finished going through all the blackmail and the guilt of her past, she got quiet, like she was waiting for me to come to a verdict. Thank God that fucker Vince Perelli is dead, or I’d want to throttle him.
“So, you said this is your last night. Why?”
She scratches her neck, looking vulnerable right now. “Because Rory needs a mom who’s going to be there for her. And…”—she wrings her hands—“I want to make a real family for her. One that doesn’t involve all these secrets and lies. She deserves a blank slate, and so do I.”
I know I don’t need to ask this question, but it barrels through me, anyway. “Were you ever going to tell me? When we were…you know.” Back when we were trying to navigate “us” and the waters got all choppy and murky.
She lowers her head, crossing her arms. “I had planned to, but…you left.”
This is a shit ton to absorb. “Does your family know?”
Her head shakes quickly from side to side. “They’ll never understand.”
“Ev, you literally worked for a dangerous man in a strip club to save them. It doesn’t matter whether or not they understand. They should just appreciate it.”
My phone buzzes with a text. From Gia. Which Everleigh sees.
Gia: I’m coming over tomorrow to finish up the last-minute wedding details with you, future hubby. ;)
Ev’s jaw ticks. “As I said, you shouldn’t be here.” She nods to my phone. “You need to be with her, where you belong.”
I want to say I am, but I can’t. Not yet. “I’m getting there.” Which is the truth because I’m going to get through to Gia one way or another and take my rightful place. With the woman I love. “I have to leave, but I’m not going anywhere, Ev.”
She scoffs as she goes to pick up her mask. “That’s not a promise you can keep, Luca.”
“You’re right, it’s not. It’s a solemn fucking vow.”
Her eyes meet mine, but I see the skepticism there, the fear, the disappointment. And most of all, I see what it truly is.
Rejection.
“I’m going to make my way back to you, Evergreen,” I say as I walk toward the door because I’m not wasting another second. “And when I do, you’ll see just how far I’m willing to go.”
33
Luca
I left after having that conversation with Everleigh filled with purpose. No matter the bullshit it took to get here, I was created for one reason, and one reason only—to love the Hell out of her.
Because I see all the insecurities and hurt in her eyes clearly now, her own private Hell where she’s lesser than or doesn’t meet some standard set before her by someone else. And I know I was born on this planet to love her until her Hell becomes her haven. To crowd out all the doubts with my joy. To help her see herself as I see her...
Perfect.
Worthy.
Everything.
Every molecule of her anguish is mine to turn to joy. Every fiber of her being is mine to fill with love and acceptance. She’s an empty vessel because I’ve not poured myself into her the way I was destined to do—the same way she’s meant to do for me.
The way she was willing to all those years ago.
After tonight, the snowball of fate is going to gather some speed, even if I have to keep pushing the cosmic fucker down the hill myself. I can’t take another woman as my wife when there’s someone else who is my soul—the woman who deserves to have my all because she’s worthy.
Not because I’m so great, but because she is.
And with a knock at the door, fate steps up to the plate.
That’s fine, motherfucker. I was born for this shit.
Gia is all smiles when I open the door. She hands me a bag as she kisses my cheek, “I forgot all about your birthday present the other day.”
Ushering her in and taking her coat, I slip on my armor and prepare to go to battle, ready to let her hang herself on Daddy’s puppet strings if she so chooses. Two mugs are sitting with hot coffee in them, awaiting us on the island. I don’t know how long this is going to take, but after my talk with Papi Dean this morning, I have a good idea of how I need to play this. Let’s just hope it’s like roping a sheep instead of a steer.
I set her gift on the island. “Gia, about the other night here…”
She waves her hands. “It’s just pre-wedding jitters. All is forgiven.”
Stay the course. I offer her a mug of coffee that I hope won’t end up in my face. She takes it as she slips the small bag over to me. “Go ahead and open it. I want to see if you like them.” Her grin is self-assured.
Deciding to play into her hands a bit, I reach for the bag Papi Dean brought home before he left to give us some privacy, a bag he insisted that I give to Gia.
I pull out the tissue paper and see a small jewelry box in the bottom, which makes me pause. “Only if you open yours too.”
Her smile falters for a moment, not expecting a present. “It’s not my birthday, though.”
“I saw it and thought of you,” I add, using Papi Dean’s words verbatim. Now to see which one she pulls out first.
She works on the tied strings of her bag while I pull out a set of engraved cufflinks, no doubt a pre-wedding gift for me. Thoughtful. Expensive. Something that a man like Antonio wants you to wear because it’s his money that bought them, his wealth adding another string to the conditions he and my dad set.
Those strings get snapped today, asshole.
As Gia looks down in her bag, there’s a nostalgic look on her face. Pulling the stuffed bear from the bag—exactly as predicted, she eyes it and strokes its soft fur.
Papi Dean, you’re a genius.
“Do you like them?”
She pulls out the black panther as she nods, a little teary-eyed. “Very much. Thank you.” Her eyes flit to the cufflinks in the box I’ve kept open. “Do you like yours?”
I pick up the box and look them over one more time, steeling my last nerve. “They’re very thoughtful.” She beams brightly until I follow up with, “But I can’t accept them.”
Those cheeks tight with pretend joy loosen. “They’re for you to wear at the wedding.”
I shake my head. “I know. And that’s why I can’t. Because I’m not going to marry you, Gia.”
Her smile now fully fades into panic. “What?”
“You heard me. I can’t marry you.”
Dark brows furrow. “Luca, I thought we talked about this.”
“No. I talked, but you heard what you wanted to hear, and said what you’ve been told to say.”
The anger builds in those dark brown eyes as she grips the bear tightly in her hand. “You’re not canceling the wedding.”
“No, I’m not. I just won’t be there.” I push the cufflinks toward her as she starts to tremble
, seeing that I’m not joking.
And now, here comes the rage. She picks up the full cup of coffee and pitches it toward me, hitting the cabinets to my side.
“Mi dispiace, pezzo di merda bugiardo! Stronzo ingrato e arrogante!” she shouts in Italian as she grabs one of my island stools and pitches it sideways. Grabbing the other mug, she flings it my way as I sidestep it.
I’ve been called worse than a liar and an arrogant prick before. She’s going to have to come up with something better than that to get me to crack the calm demeanor I have. “Are you done?”
She gathers a little shred of composure, trying to regain that perfect, practiced facade that the Cervellis are known for. “Do you know what my father will do to you? To your family?”
“Gia, watch yourself,” my stern warning is low and deadly.
She runs her fingers through her hair, trying to find something to use in her arsenal. Eyeing her outfit, she locks her jaw. Slowly, painfully, she lifts her top off, baring her small stomach.
I motion to her discarded shirt. “Put your clothes back on.”
Her shirt whips off as she goes for her pants.
“Stop!” I bellow, her movements stilling. “I’m not going to sleep with you. I don’t want anything from you.”
Now, there’s fear in her eyes. “Luca, you have to go through with this marriage. You promised!”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to marry you and you don’t want to marry me. So, why are we letting your father call the shots?”
She grabs her shirt off the floor and pulls it back on with a huff. “Do you have any idea what I’ve gone through to get here?”
I deadpan, trying to keep her off-kilter. “And you think it’s been easy for me? Being shipped off to Italy for years? Leaving my friends, and college, and family behind? My home?”
“You’re not the only one who had to give up someone you love for this, you selfish asshole.”
I still at her words, a bad feeling creeps up my spine.
