The Sirens of SaSS Anthology

by Anthology

  “Mr. Hook, what happened to you?” The concierge repeats and the crowd closes in around a soaking wet X. Water drips onto the floor around his feet. He says nothing but he doesn’t take his eyes off me.

  I can’t bring myself to move. Mr. Hook is dead upstairs. This can’t be. I struggle to breathe. What the hell is going on?

  “Bastian!” I hear a woman exclaim as she pushes past me and runs to him. “Are you okay? What happened?” Suddenly it all falls into place.

  I can barely feel my feet move as the crowd between us grows. He is preoccupied with them and I slip away. Somehow I stumble to the waiting limo. As the door closes I see him pushing through the crowd. The driver calmly walks around and we pull away just as he makes it to the doors. I watch out the back window as he bursts out into the night and I get one final look at the man of my dreams and evidently not so estranged son of my first ever kill, Bastian Xavier Hook.

  Fate, you are the cruelest siren of all.

  Get to know CD Bradley

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  Don’t forget to look for Cut Throat Billionaire , the story of Bastian Xavier Hook to be released in July at #SaSS18!

  Una Notte

  (One Night)

  A prequel by Dani René

  Chapter One

  Elisabet

  San Francisco.

  A fresh start.

  My heart still aches. It still remembers what happened, but it’s not as bad as it was. My mind slips to the past every now and then. It recalls him, but I force myself to shove the memories into a little box, never to see the light of day again.

  When I stepped off the plane two weeks ago, I wasn’t sure if I was going to make this work. Scrap that, I knew it was going to happen for me.

  I’ve always been self-reliant. Never had anyone else to look after me. Most men are too afraid of me to even take me out for a drink, let alone want to work for me. I’m known as the bitch of the kitchen. That’s fine by me. Most of my chefs have walked out because they say I’m too hard on them. What’s the point in making food you don’t love? That’s what my mother used to say.

  I’ve been searching high and low for space to open the next restaurant in the chain of eateries which is owned by me. Rossi Food & Wine started as an idea. I put pen to paper almost two years ago, and now I’m about to purchase property for my fifth store.

  When my mother passed away after my eighteenth birthday, I made the choice that changed my life. I packed my bags and moved to America. When I arrived, I worked bussing tables at a small pizzeria in New York. As time passed, I learned English, and along with it, how to run a business.

  The roads are busy today as I make my way through the congested streets toward the building my best friend told me about. Louisa followed not long after I told her how amazing America was. Since she studied in England, language was no barrier, and she quickly made a name for herself in the magazine industry. Working for a large publishing company, she now edits one of the more well-known monthlies.

  Pulling up to the empty building, I turn off the engine and exit the car. I lift my shades and take in the beautiful architecture of the structure in question. The paint is peeling, there’s a lot of work to be done on the windows, but I can see myself turning this into a beautiful place for people to visit with friends or family.

  I find myself smiling at the thought. Excitement tumbles in my stomach as I make my way around to the back of the building to take a look at the space. It’s all locked up, but I have a look around at the parking allocation. There are two other stores beside it, a pharmacy as well as a small vegetable grocer. Perfect.

  Across the road is an apartment block which looks to be upmarket and quiet. I’m smiling by the time I get back into the car. The large sign on the door tells me the property agent is Landon Stone. I’ve heard of the infamous Mr. Stone. A man-whore who beds more women on a weekly basis than I serve meals to my patrons.

  He’s never been seen without a woman on his arm at any event he attends. I hate men like that. Those who think they’re God’s gift to women, and deep down they’re just insecure little boys trying to be adults. The operative word is trying.

  Sighing, I tap out his number and hit “dial”. If I have to deal with him for a couple of weeks to get this deal done and dusted, I can. This is purely business, I tell myself as I listen to the ringing on the line.

  “Stone International, how may I direct your call?” A sweet, sultry tone comes from the other end of the line, and I wonder if she’s fucking the boss. Shaking my head, I try to push the images of Landon with a woman out of my head.

  “I’d like to set up an appointment with Mr. Stone. It’s about the property on Chestnut Street,” I inform her, watching a couple walk their dog down toward the marina. My heart jolts for a moment as a memory comes unbidden to my mind, but as always, I push it back.

  “Yes, he can see you tomorrow at ten. Would that work for you, Miss…” she leaves the sentence open enough for me to give her my name.

  “Elisabet Rossi.”

  “Ms. Rossi, I have you penciled in at ten in the morning. Can I get your contact number in the event of a reschedule?” I tell her my cell phone number before hanging up. I’m excited to get the ball rolling. The sooner I can open a Rossi’s here, the better. I vowed never to go back to New York after what happened, and having a manager looking after my restaurant there is the perfect excuse not to return.

  Tomorrow, all I have to do is persuade Mr. Stone to sell me this building, and I’ll be back on my feet in no time. Starting the engine, I head out toward the hotel I’ve booked for the next two months. I’ve given myself enough time to figure out what I’m going to do so I don’t have to return to New York anytime soon.

  The streets are familiar to me as I make my way through the city. I spent time in San Francisco when I was still happy. When my life was heading in one direction, but now, as I weave through the traffic, I realize I’m on a whole new path. Something other than this darkness that’s consumed my mind.

  The life I walked away from was something I never wanted. Didn’t need it at all. I left everything back in a house that cost a small fortune. I didn’t need the things that sat glistening on tables and countertops bought with money that came from drugs, from weapons.

  Sighing, I pull up to the valet of the hotel, and when I exit the car, a young man takes the keys, and I head into the lobby. A few people mill around, mostly tourists. It’s a plush, modern building with beautiful Italian tiles and wallpaper that remind me of the walls of the Vatican. Strangely, I feel at home. Not because of my heritage, but because I miss being in the safety of the cathedral. The candles glowing dimly in the vast space. A soft humming of hymns being sung.

  I’ve never been religious. No. Even though I was brought up that way, I found myself on a different path. It was my decision. And even though Mama and Papa didn’t agree, they still loved and accepted my choice, I knew I’d hurt them when I walked away from the family rules I refused to live under.

  When my mother passed away, all I remember was the ache in my chest. It was felt so deep down I was breathless in my grief. I spent months in her kitchen, cooking, focusing on anything other than the fact that I’d laid her to rest.

  My passion for food stemmed from there, and I knew I had to do something other than wallow in grief. Pushing through that barrier wasn’t easy, to see light when all I was used to was darkness. Slowly, each day became less painful, and even though nothing can ease the ache in my chest, I have a life now that I’m proud of.

  A small smile plays on my lips as I think about the future. Once I have the building in my name, I can renovate it and put my stamp on it. Happiness thrums through my body, tingling with anticipation of seeing another derelict building come to life with laughter and smells of delicious food.

  Chapter Two

  Landon />
  When I glance at the clock, I notice it’s almost time to head home. Even though I’d prefer sitting at the office than being in that apartment alone. Exhaustion tugs at me, and I know I need to get some rest. Today’s been a long one, and tomorrow will be no different. From a quick look on my calendar, I notice I’m in meetings all fucking day. Don’t get me wrong, I love making money. I love selling property, but I need time off. Or I just need a pretty little cunt to drive into to take the stress away.

  Picking up my phone, I hit dial on my best friend’s number. On the fourth ring, I’m about to give up when his voice filters through the line.

  “What do you want, Stone?” My best friend is an asshole at the best of times. I don’t know how he lands the amount of pussy he does.

  “Dominic, we need to grab some drinks tonight,” I inform him as I ease back into the leather seat of my office chair. The view from my window is of the city below and the marina not far away. The water glistens as the moonlight streams down from the inky sky. The night always seems to hold promise.

  “I’m finishing up at the office now. Where do you want to meet?” His question isn’t where, but who. I know him all too well.

  “Let’s go down to that new place where they supposedly serve drinks topless. I could do with something gorgeous to look at.” Dom offers a chuckle in response, but he agrees. Once we hang up, I rise and grab the keys to my Maserati. The beautiful car that’s been my most prized possession since I hit my first billion. When I walked into the dealership, she sat waiting for me like a beacon, and I knew I had to have her. Much like women, cars are my vice.

  I can walk into any room, and when my eyes land on a stunner, I have to have her, and I’ll stop at nothing to make sure she’s screaming my name by the end of the night. Heading out into the parking garage, I press the key fob and open the driver’s door. Slipping into the leather seat, I push the start button, and I’m heading out onto the road in seconds.

  The purr of the engine puts me at ease, and I turn up the music. Blaring riffs scream at me from the speakers, which lifts the tension in my shoulders. The streets are reasonably quiet this evening as I make my way to the east side of town where the club is located.

  I overheard from one of my clients their waitresses are topless, sexy, and up for anything. My phone buzzes as I pull up to the parking lot, and with a quick glance, I notice it’s Dominic. Once I’m parked in a spot close to the door, I notice my best friend exiting his cherry-red Porsche. The asshole loves to show off, and this is no different.

  We’ve been friends for most of our lives, me from the wrong side of the tracks and him from the affluent family that owns hotels around the world. When I get out of my car, he notices me and smirks.

  “Stone.” He saunters confidently over to me, his golden eyes pinning me with a stare. “I need a drink tonight, and besides that, I have news.” He slaps me on the shoulder, squeezing a greeting as we make our way toward the bar.

  “Does it have anything to do with that blonde you were with the other day?” I ask, remembering the beauty that was hanging off his arm. Her fake tits put me off, but there was something about her lips that had me envious of my best friend. He did offer a threesome, but I felt it was time for me to leave when her friends appeared. A group of gaggling drunk women is not my idea of fun. I may like them intoxicated, but they need to have their wits about them. Sensual, hot, and feisty.

  The music slams into me as we walk through the double doors of the bar. It’s not loud, but the song is jazzy. Something I can picture a beautiful body sliding around a pole to.

  I need to get laid.

  The place is elegant, sexy, and I’m sure there’s a lot more that goes on in here than drinks being served. When we reach the bar, I notice the man sitting in the corner, his gaze roaming over the area, and I recognize him immediately. The well-known criminal mastermind, Alessio Russo.

  “Gentleman,” he offers a greeting. His Italian heritage clear in the tanned skin, hazel eyes, and that accent. “I trust you’ll enjoy your visit. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “Thank you,” I respond.

  “What can I get you to drink?” A beautiful, busty brunette sidles up to us. She is indeed topless, and I can’t help staring at her beautiful tits.

  “I’ll have three fingers of Macallan, twelve-year-old,” I tell her, meeting green eyes that dart between my best friend and me. She nods, and peeks over at Dom, who orders his signature bourbon.

  As soon as our waitress disappears, another stunning brunette strolls up – no -- stalks up to us clad in a sheer red dress that hangs to her ankles. Underneath, she’s wearing a pair of panties that could be ripped off with my teeth. Her bra is just as tiny, barely covering her incredible tits.

  “Gentlemen,” she purrs the word like a kitten, and I picture her on her knees lapping at my cock. “Would you like a personal tour of the club?” She runs a blood red fingernail over the shoulder of my suit jacket. If she’s intent on taunting me, it’s working. My zipper is starting to feel very restrictive as she leans in closer. “I have a very special show for you both as new clients.”

  “Lead the way, sweetheart,” I tell her. Dom and I follow her through the club. She signals our waitress who nods.

  Moving through the room, I take in the groups of men sitting around tables where girls are swaying, gyrating, and smiling down at the old fuckers who are flicking hundred-dollar bills at them.

  We’re led into a circular room that has a pole in the center and plush Merlot-colored sofas. There are see-through curtains hanging from the walls where red light shines through, creating warmth in the room.

  The brunette turns to us and smiles. “Get comfortable gentlemen,” she tells us while the waitress sets our drinks on the small side tables on either ends of the sofas. I settle into the cushions, lifting the tumbler to my lips.

  This club is owned by one of the well-known leaders of the Mafia. And being in here only sets me on edge. My past is littered with darkness—things I’ve done were questionable. Since I’ve been in America, I’ve tried to keep my nose clean, but being in San Francisco, I’ve met many wings of the American Italian Mafia.

  “I’m the club manager, Alejandra. If you need anything at all gentlemen, you’re welcome to it. I’ll leave you to enjoy the show now.” The darkness with the podium is lit, and the pole is gleaming in the low light.

  Lifting the glass to my lips, I take a long sip of the strong liquid. A burn trails from my tongue down my throat and warms my chest as I savor the alcohol. A much-needed drink after the long day.

  I watch Alejandra walk out, her hips swaying back and forth, and my cock jolts at the sight. I’m tempted to ask for an hour alone with her. I’ve always loved women who are curvy, voluptuous, and she’s delicious.

  “I look forward to it,” I murmur under my breath, tipping my glass in a cheers gesture. Just then, the curtain opens, and two women stroll into the room. One is what I would call a tigress, and I know immediately she’s for Dominic. Her body is lithe, long, tanned legs, and an ass you could bounce a penny off. Her tits are more than a handful, and I picture my best friend sliding his cock between them.

  Her eyes are green, the color of a forest. Deep and endless. She takes two steps up to Dom, and he’s on his feet. “Hi,” she greets in a sultry, sinful tone, and his smile says it all.

  “Hello,” the girl before me smiles. She’s shy, perhaps new to this job, but I’ll be fucked, she’s incredible.

  “Sweetheart.” I smile, crooking my finger, calling her closer. She settles herself straddling my lap. “You’re quite a sight,” I tell her. Lifting my hand to grip the dark chocolate curls that hang down her shoulders. Her breasts are a handful, perhaps a B-cup. But it’s her body that’s got me hard as fuck.

  “I’m Antonia,” she tells me. Sweet little Italian girls are too tempting. “You’re from England?” Her question is pure curiosity, and I nod.

  “I am, sweetheart.” My hand tr
ails down her arm, feeling the silky skin beneath my fingers. “How about you move those hips.” I lift my chin, my gaze dropping to her thighs. The tiny pair of panties she’s wearing cup her cunt like a second skin. Her pussy lips taunt me, and I’m dying to touch her, but we can’t. I’ve been to many strip clubs before.

  The rules.

  “Make me come with those moves,” I order, and she continues her little lap dance. Moving her hips over my groin, rubbing her core over my growing erection, causing me to drop my head back and close my eyes. The sensation is incredible. Her heat is intoxicating, and it doesn’t take long before my balls tighten, and my release is close. “Stop,” I urge, gripping her hips to stop moving.

  “But I thought—”

  “How much for the whole night? Perhaps even early morning, if you can handle me.” I wink, and she moves off me, taking the hint.

  “Two thousand,” she responds. I trail my eyes over her, the small wet spot in her panties evidence she’s clearly up for some fun.

  “Good,” I tell her, downing the rest of my drink. “Get your stuff. I’ll ensure the payment is done before we leave.” She nods, turns, and heads back to the door they entered through. Her ass is mine tonight, and I can’t wait to fuck her until she’s screaming.

  “You’re leaving?” Dom questions, the beautiful leggy tigress is perched on his lap.

  “I am. I have a kitten to play with.” I chuckle, rising from the sofa. I shake my best friend’s hand, leaving him with his girl.

  Chapter Three

  Elisabet

  Stepping into the Stone International building is like walking into one of the opulent boutique stores in France or Italy. It’s luxurious, modern, and looks as if money drips from the paint that adorns the walls. Taking small steps toward the reception desk, I allow my eyes to take in every square inch of the welcome area.