“I’m not a monkey,” I hissed, my fingers curled into fists, nails digging into my palms hard. I stood near my bed, though I really felt like pacing. Pacing, throwing myself out of that window, whatever. “I don’t perform on command.”
Sylvester took a step closer to me, his brows creasing as he studied me. I knew what he was going to say before he said it, and yet when he opened his mouth and said it aloud, it still hurt: “You do for us.”
I looked away, fighting the uneasy feeling rising inside my body, the feeling that I needed to tear out my vocal cords and toss them on the floor, light a match and burn them. I should’ve known singing in front of these guys would only lead to something awful.
Like, fuck, I’d rather torture someone or be tortured myself than stand in front of a crowd of strangers and sing for all to hear.
“I know things have been… different lately,” his voice was softer now, gentler, but that didn’t change the fact that I’d have to be someone else, the girl my parents wanted me to be, the girl who was always on display, always judged and appreciated based on physical aspects and the traits they’d tried to drill into me. My body. My face. My voice. My meekness.
That girl had died, and I didn’t know if I could pretend to be her again. I’d tried for so long and so hard to move past her, to get over it. Well, clearly, the fucking joke was on me, because life kept coming at me, making me think of the past, making me have nightmares and relive that terrible time. This, performing in a club, would be more of the same.
“But this is why you’re here,” Sylvester finished, “to do what my family wants of you.”
Grinding my jaw, I looked at him with fury in my eyes, causing him to stop his approach of me, to halt in his tracks and keep some space between us. Oh, there would be no hanky-panky-er4rspanky tonight; fuck that. “Right,” I said, “I’m here to hurt people for you, to sing for you, and to wet your cocks whenever the fuck you’re feeling horny.”
As far as I was concerned, it was true. I was simply stating facts, and yet at my words, Sylvester gave me a strange look, as if I’d said something wrong. “That’s not—”
I let out a laugh. What was he going to say? Try to tell me that wasn’t how it was, that I wasn’t at their every beck and call for any possible reason, including their dicks? Oh, please. We were both adults here, neither of us wearing the rose-colored glasses of children who thought fairytales were real. We’d seen the grittiness of life, had blood splattered on us, been hurt and used.
Well, one of us had, anyway. Me.
Me, me, me. It was always me and never anyone else, and I hated it with my entire being, because it wasn’t fucking fair. None of this was fair.
“Go away,” I told him. “Go away and let me get some sleep—unless you want me to bend over this bed and give my ass to you—” I sounded like a bitch, but I didn’t care. No one could understand the way I felt. No one.
I must’ve pissed him off, for he only gave me a glare before storming out, slamming my door so hard I nearly leaped out of my skin.
Viper stood near the door, his hands folded across his stomach, watching me with those hazel eyes. He said nothing, but I was too ticked off to wonder what was on his mind. He would side with Sylvester any day; they all would. I was the odd one out here, and I always would be.
“Turn off the fucking light, will you?” I harrumphed, turning my back to him and crawling into bed. My eyes remained open, and it was but a few seconds later when Viper hit the switch and turned the big light off.
Darkness surrounded me, but it felt different tonight. Usually, when I lay down and try to sleep, I could shut everything off, push everything away. Lately, things had been creeping up on me in the darkness—in my dreams, in the club, even in my thoughts when I was alone.
Why couldn’t I fight it anymore? Why did I feel myself unraveling, bit by bit? Eventually there would be nothing left of me, nothing but a pretty shell. For the longest time, that’s what I thought I was, but coming here, spending time with these Lucianos and their crazy selves… I realized I’d been wrong.
I wasn’t empty, just waiting for the right people to bring me out.
Unfortunately for me, the right people were a bunch of assholes who knew nothing about the real Lola Harding.
Tomorrow they’d see her, and I had the feeling she wasn’t going to be too compliant.
The style of the club where I would be auditioning was that of an older gentleman’s club, the kind of place where the fancy and rich in this town came to relax and have a drink and a cigar after a long day. I bet it was also where business deals would be had, which I bet was the only reason Daddy Luciano wanted me in there: to keep an eye on things, on possible DeLuca dealings.
Anytime my family went somewhere that required a bit of dressing up like this, we usually went to the hairdresser, but I’d stared at my vacant face for hours in the mirrors, enough to know how to get my blonde hair to do what I wanted, to look like a bombshell from the twenties.
No fly-aways, my yellow hair slightly curled and pinned to my head.
Makeup, too. Black mascara, black matte eyeshadow, a bit of blush on my cheeks, and a dark red matte lipstick.
The makeup made me look pale, but I supposed that was the point. Being tan wasn’t really important one hundred years ago.
Now, where the outfit was concerned… I had to wear heels, of course. Shiny, four-inch heels that would be hidden beneath my long dress, but still. They made me look taller, got me in the mindset I’d have to be in while I was there.
What mindset was that? Kicking ass and taking names.
And singing. Yeah, couldn’t forget about that part, could we?
The dress I went for was a blue knockout. Its fabric was satin, sheer and free of lace or any diamonds or designs. It hugged my body tightly, tied behind my neck, no sleeves. I wore no bra under it, because the back was plunging. At the bottom, below my knees, it flared out a little, but not enough to be too much. A mermaid cut, I think, though it was hard to tell because I tried desperately to forget certain things.
Alas, some things stuck with you no matter what.
When I was ready, I met everyone downstairs, in the front vestibule. Mike hadn’t given me any compliments, but the man hardly spoke at all, so I was hoping that was why. He trailed me down the stairs, and I found the others were already waiting.
Sylvester and Maddox stood together, talking to Tony. Roman and Carter stood off to the side, discussing something else. Viper was there too, though he had some kind of energy drink in his hand, since he’d been watching over me all night the night before. For whatever reason, he wanted to see me off.
Or maybe he wanted to see me all dolled up and pretty.
I made not a sound as I came down, though when I reached the bottom of the stairs, I made sure to have the heels on my shoes click loudly on the wooden floor, causing every single pair of eyes to dart to me.
Maddox scowled, though I noticed he couldn’t stop himself from checking me out. Sylvester might’ve still been upset about what I’d said last night, for he didn’t compliment me or anything like that. Viper’s mouth dropped open, though I didn’t know why; he’d seen me naked, so I didn’t know why me in a dress would cause him to be speechless.
Believe it or not, Tony was the one who said, “Holy fuck.” I guess I’d take that as a compliment? I wasn’t really sure.
Roman was more like Sylvester in that he wore a suit. He was older than anyone else currently here, and he didn’t look too happy about any of this. Beside him, Carter looked more cleaned up than I’d ever seen him: shaven face, neatly-trimmed brown hair, slicked back with some kind of greasy-looking hair gel, his wide, strong body wearing a suit as well.
He appeared uncomfortable as all hell, of course, so you could tell he wasn’t used to all the weight that came with wearing a suit.
Tony glanced at everyone else, saying, “Really? No one else has anything to say? What the hell, guys? Look at her. She’s… just… fuck.�
�� He said that last part while looking straight at me, and I gave him a demure smile.
Really, I was trying to keep it in, keep all of my feelings bottled down until this day was over. Who knew? Maybe I’d audition and not be good enough to perform at their club. That, a girl could only wish for.
Finally, Viper gathered his thoughts enough to say, “Who knew you could clean up so well?” A weird as fuck compliment, but a compliment all the same, so I turned and gave him a smile.
Maddox wouldn’t say anything; telling me I looked good would add insult to injury. I was the girl who killed his brother, after all. So hung up on that fact, much more so than anyone else here.
Daddy Luciano, obviously, was nowhere to be seen, refusing to see me still.
“Yes, yes,” Roman spoke with a glower of his dark eyes, the intensity radiating off him in waves. “She is stunning. Now—” He turned to Carter. “—you are both aware of what the goal is for today?”
Carter looked like he wanted to swear and say he wasn’t going to do this, but all he ended up saying was, “I bring her to the club, she auditions, we do whatever we can to make sure she gets in.”
He nodded. “Yes, whatever you can.” Those black eyes turned to me, and I sensed a hidden weight behind Roman’s words: do whatever we had to do to get myself a permanent singing gig there.
Whatever I had to could mean sleeping with someone, sucking their dick or becoming their sidepiece, their whore. Great. That was great. I knew I liked to say no one could take it if I was giving it away for free, but lately I’d felt a little differently.
But what could I do besides nod and say nothing? So that’s what I did, and soon enough Carter and I were leaving the house, getting into his sleek, shiny black car.
Carter said nothing for the longest while, getting us on the road. I watched as the scenery passed us by, my reflection in the window angled back at me. I tried not to look at myself, because I currently looked like a doll, like the girl my parents always wanted me to be, the one who kept her head down and did as she was told. A good girl.
“You are aware we could very well be walking into our own graves here,” Carter eventually muttered, his hands tight on the wheel.
“Don’t worry,” I said, turning my head to stare at him instead of the houses we passed by, equally as large and as impressive as the Luciano house. “I’m not afraid to die.”
He scoffed. “Of course you aren’t. I bet you’ve been chasing death for years now.”
His words made me speechless, if only for a moment. “What do you mean?”
“You’re the fucking Night Slayer, a goddamned serial killer. I heard all about how much you enjoyed your first job. You like hurting other people, but I also think a part of it is because you’re searching for something.” He turned his stare away from the road for just a split-second, eyeing me up as if he had me all figured out. “I can see it in your eyes. There’s no life there. You’re waiting to die.”
As much as I wanted to argue with him the moment he said it, he was right. Of course he was. If anyone in this town had a death wish, it was me.
I forced out a smile. “Don’t you worry that pretty head of yours. I won’t fuck this up.”
He practically growled out, “I hope not.”
The club was on the other side of town, a good drive away. Carter was supposed to be my talent agent or manager or whatever, the man in charge of me and my apparently angelic voice. I had to act like a good girl, which would be tough, but I spent the morning trying to shut off all of my emotions after spending the entire night fuming.
When we pulled up to it, we parked on the side of the street. Since it was in broad daylight, the roads weren’t too busy. It was located in the business district of town, surrounded by tall buildings and skyscrapers and four-lane roads. Its outer walls were made of black glass, thick black pillars of marble holding up a golden sign: The Gilded Rose.
A rather large bouncer stood just outside the front doors, wearing all black, his head shaved and thick, dark sunglasses on his head. He saw us approach and shifted his weight, as if he was ready for a fight.
Carter took the lead, talking to him before we reached him, “I spoke with Newton the other day. He’s expecting us.”
The man reached to his ear, where a Bluetooth piece sat, and he said something in a whisper. It was but a moment more before he stepped aside and gestured for us to go in, and as we walked by him, I couldn’t help but wonder if his eyes were on me beneath those glasses.
I stuck closer to Carter as we entered the club. Since it hadn’t officially opened yet, it was mostly empty. The chairs and tables around the area had been set up, but they were still working on the bar area, it looked like. It was a single-floor place, with a stage front and center, all black except for the red curtains draped behind it. Everything that could be lined in gold was, and I had to admit, this place looked nice. A lot nicer than any of the so-called clubs I’d been to, lately.
But that’s because this wasn’t a dancing club. This wasn’t where the Night Slayer could find a new victim.
A man came walking up, meeting us halfway. He held his arms out, grinning as he greeted Carter, “Aaron, I was wondering when you’d bring your girl here. You talked so highly of her, and I admit, I’ve been curious ever since.” Newton. He had to be.
A man in his forties, Newton had blonde hair and dark eyes, the lengths on top of his head a few inches too long, but that didn’t seem to bother him. He wore a sleek vest over a white button-down shirt, along with fancy trousers without a single crease in them. Well-put together, definitely.
I did toss a glance at Carter, wondering why on earth he’d chosen the name Aaron. Surely there could’ve been a cooler name, something that, you know, didn’t start with an A. The name reminded me of another I was trying to forget.
Hard to shut off my feelings when everything in the fucking world was a reminder of that place. Of my parents. Of my fucking family.
Newton turned to study me, and I gave him a smile. Hopefully it wasn’t a crazy smile—my grins usually were. Right now, I had to give off the vibe of a hopeful wannabe singer who would do anything to land this particular gig.
Newton was handsome enough for an older man, I supposed. There were worse men to get on my knees for, if I had to.
“She is gorgeous, isn’t she?” Newton spoke to Carter, talking about me as if I wasn’t there. “Everyone will love her, assuming she sings well.” He reached out, setting a hand on Carter’s shoulder and squeezing; it looked like a gesture between friends, even if I could tell Carter wanted to shrug off that hand instantly. “Now, I already have a few pretty singers lined up, but the way you talked about her, I just had to see what she was about, especially since I’ve never heard of her before.”
“You won’t regret giving her a chance,” Carter spoke, doing his best to not sound pissed off.
Newton dropped his hand, motioning for us to follow him deeper into the club. “Come on. Get her on the stage. I want to hear her.” He led us toward the stage in the far back, and I kept my head low as I headed to the stairs on the side of the stage, taking them one at a time, being sure to keep my posture rod-straight.
The sooner I got this over with…
Well, the sooner I got this over with, the sooner I’d be singing here on the reg, which was so not what I wanted to do. I had no idea if Newton was a DeLuca or if he was just a businessman dealing with them; it didn’t matter. Either way, singing for him in his club was the last thing I wanted.
But here I was. Here I was, unable to do anything but.
“Now,” Newton spoke once I stood before the golden microphone stand, “on our big nights, there will be a live band. On the smaller nights, we’ll have the sound playing through the speakers. Right now, I just want to hear you, dear girl.”
Carter stood beside him, shooting me a look with those green eyes, as if I could read his mind and know what he was thinking.
Leaning my lips against the microphone
, I whispered, “Give me a moment, please.” My voice came through the speakers in the ceiling, allowing me to gauge how far I had to be away from it when I actually started singing. There should be a sound booth to adjust the volume, but seeing as how this place was currently only full of people setting up the bar and a few big, scary-looking bouncer guys, I doubted their sound guy was here.
I’d been so furious that I hadn’t spent any time last night thinking about what song to sing, too pissed off that they were making me do this.
It took me a few moments, but after running through some of my favorite songs in my head, I decided on a classic, a song everyone knew. L-O-V-E by Nat King Cole. It would allow me to show off my range, the smoothness of my voice, and the power I could put behind it.
Holding onto the microphone, I began to sing, showering this empty club with my voice and the smooth melody of an oldie but a goodie. They just didn’t make music like they used to. I could feel the words in my soul, the honeyed tone falling from my lips as I put my heart and soul into it.
Singing on the piano… my back had been a little hunched, I was focused on also playing the melody with my fingers, but here? Here there was nothing but the microphone and me, my body straight and my lungs able to breathe in as deeply as they could.
Mommy and Daddy loved making me stand in front of their friends and sing for them during the holidays. At birthdays, at parties… they always acted so proud of my voice, as if they were the ones to thank for it. Maybe they were, in a way. Mother had given birth to me, so I supposed I did owe everything to them.
Everything.
My looks, my voice, the scar on my belly…
On the second refrain, I closed my eyes and put my all into the song, fighting the waves of nausea threatening to rise up inside. Didn’t I want to live? Didn’t I want to prove Carter wrong and show that I could do whatever the Lucianos wanted me to? Didn’t I want to get as much out of life as I could?
Shadowed Heart: A Dark Reverse Harem Romance (A Death So Sweet Book 1) Page 19
