Pet

by Sara Fields

  I could see the tension in her muscles as she prepared herself to sing. Her fingers closed around the mic and she lifted it to her lips.

  I couldn’t help but imagine those pretty lips around my cock. Perhaps I would pay a visit to her dressing room after the show was over.

  “Welcome, New York! My name is Chloe Banks and I’m so excited to be here tonight,” she exclaimed. The audience applauded as expected, although it was more out of politeness than excitement, I gathered.

  She started to sing, and the sound of her voice surrounded me. For a long time, I was enamored by it and focused on nothing but the lyrics and her soft serenading sounds. The more I listened to her beautiful voice, the more I wanted her. She was making my cock as hard as a fucking iron spike. My balls ached because of it.

  I sipped my whiskey and then she brushed her hair over her shoulder and revealed the pale skin on her throat. I imagined kissing that pretty neck hard enough to leave a bruise, but I saw something else that halted my thought process immediately.

  Fucking hell. That couldn’t be what it looked like.

  She had a birthmark on her neck. It was the perfect shape of a star.

  My mouth went dry and I stopped moving entirely.

  For a long time, I stared at the mark, trying to convince myself I was seeing things and that the shape of it on her throat was just a product of my imagination. As she sang one song after the next, I came to the conclusion that it was very real. It wasn’t makeup because when she dragged her fingers down her neck, it didn’t smudge. It was the real thing. She bore the mark that Isabella’s journal had said to look for.

  Without raising suspicion, I looked around and tried to determine if anyone else recognized her. All the men peered back at her with keen interest, but only in the way that a man looks at a beautiful woman up on a stage.

  I’d found her.

  Isabella’s daughter was here, unknowingly trapped in a den of vipers that wanted her dead, and I was the only one who knew who she was.

  Now I knew her name.

  Soon I would know everything else about her, and the moment that her eyes glanced in my direction I knew that I was going to make her mine.

  Chapter 2

  Chloe

  “Show us those pretty tits, bitch!”

  Fucking hell.

  I heard him before I saw him. The bright lights were blinding from atop the stage, but in between the beats of the music and the sound of my own singing, his voice was gratingly high and expectant. I did everything in my power to ignore him, but as he carried on it became harder to drown him out. Soon, it became altogether impossible.

  At every show, there was always one. When the drinks started flowing and it went late enough in the night, there was usually at least one drunk heckler that wanted more than I was willing to give. I hadn’t expected this kind of behavior in a place like this though, so it caught me off guard.

  It was the only thing about performing that I truly hated. I’d performed at more than my fair share of seedy clubs, so I knew how to handle a man like him.

  This was more of a high-class gentlemen’s club. It was a pretty small venue and the center seats were set up close to the stage. Around the edges of the room were fancy booths encased in expensive red fabric meant for VIPs and large groups. There wasn’t a bad seat in the house. Scantily clad waitresses made sure that not a single drink in the house went empty. Several of the men in the room were wearing expensive designer suits with cufflinks that spoke to their wealth. Many of them were drinking scotch, or maybe it was whiskey. I wasn’t sure. As always though, there was a group of men who were well-dressed enough to meet the dress code it took to walk in the door but not enough to fit in with the rest of the very rich men who were sitting in the same room.

  When I’d been offered the gig, it had come with a ridiculously high payout. I’d read the contract five times, trying to make sure that I wasn’t agreeing to anything other than a few hours of dancing and singing the songs I’d written myself. It seemed like easy money and once I was positive that it was just a simple performance, I’d jumped at the chance and taken the job because let’s face it, I needed the money.

  Rent didn’t pay itself. It was fucking expensive living in New York, nothing like growing up in the middle of nowhere in northern Vermont. Hell, I could hardly afford my studio in Brooklyn right now but living here was either going to make me or break me. I wanted to make it big. I wanted it so badly that I could taste it, which meant that right now, I had to deal with the kind of nonsense like this fucking drunk asshole. Someday, I’d have my own security to haul him right the fuck out.

  “Yeah. That’s right. Sway your hips for me, slut.”

  I sighed.

  This wasn’t my first rodeo and it wouldn’t be my last.

  He slid into the second row, balancing three drinks in his hands. I watched as his beer sloshed over the sides, spilling onto his sleeve and onto the floor. His suit was probably soaked, and he would reek of whatever cheap booze he was buying himself and his buddies before the night was through. I cringed when I saw the beer practically pour onto several men as he passed by trying to rush to get back to his seat. What a fucking dick.

  How the hell had he even gotten a seat in the second row? That shit was probably expensive, and it looked like he and his friends had bought their suits from the closest local thrift shop right before they came. One of them even had a tag hanging off the collar that they’d forgotten to cut off. Idiot. I wondered why the bouncers had even let them in the front door.

  Shaking my head with aggravation, I ignored him for a while longer, waiting for him to take his seat. I continued the song, belting out every word a bit louder in order to cover up the sound of his plastered ass. He never sat down though.

  He kept going. He never fucking shut up. I wanted to punch him right in the face.

  Usually, the really smashed ones would give up pretty quickly in favor of more booze and especially if I ignored them, but not this one apparently. I’d have to deal with him myself.

  With a certain measured calmness, I finished the song and cleared my throat, leveling my gaze on the drunken asshole once and for all. I smiled, feigning pleasure at his presence, and his face lit up at the fact that I had finally noticed him. Dumbass. He was in for a real treat.

  “What’s your name, sir?” I began and for a second, he looked a bit shell-shocked that I was actually talking to him, so I brazenly continued. “Yes, you, sir, with your top-self Keystone or Nattie Light or maybe even PBR or whatever shit beer you’ve got there. Tell me your name.”

  “Donnie D’Marco,” he answered cockily. “Like what you see, slut? I’m gonna take you backstage so I can show you what a real man looks like.”

  I chuckled. As fucking if.

  “Donnie, my dearest Donnie, you see, I have a name. It’s not slut or pretty tits or whatever incredibly fantastic bit of creativity you happen to come up with next. It’s Chloe Banks. So, why don’t you sit the fuck down, enjoy your shitty beer, and let everyone else that came out tonight enjoy the show?” I spat. I spoke right into the microphone, and my fury echoed throughout the room. The audience remained quiet as they watched it all go down. The men that Donnie had spilled his beer on smirked in amusement and I knew that they were as sick of this goon’s shit as I was.

  Donnie leered back at me and I stared back in return, refusing to back down. He needed to know I was serious. I didn’t take shit from anyone, especially hecklers in the crowd that wanted to make a fool of me while I was singing my ass off for a paycheck up on the stage.

  “Don’t be a cunt. Show us your tits or get the fuck out of here so we can replace your bitchy ass with someone even prettier,” he demanded as his words started to slur into one another. His friends laughed and shouted a number of insulting jeers in my direction, but I ignored them too. I bit the inside of my cheek in fury, weighing the option of fully losing it on the dickhead just because I wanted to.

  I looked out into the ligh
ts and shook my head. What now? Do I keep fighting with this belligerent fool or do I just let the show go on with his fucking annoying ambience?

  “Take a seat, Donnie,” I finally demanded. I wanted to err on the side of caution, just in case I was ever given the opportunity to perform here again.

  He took his beer from his drink holder and slammed it down, chugging every last drop like his life depended on it.

  Fucking fantastic.

  I took a deep breath, waiting for security to haul this guy out, but no one came. It was deadly silent for a long moment. A single man in a finely pressed suit stood up in the first row and cleared his throat. There was a rush of tension that passed over the crowd and for some insane reason, I felt myself drawn to him even though he was a perfect stranger.

  He felt dangerous and for a second, I was curious about who he might be, but as he stared back at me with a certain cold possessiveness, my interest turned to fear. I licked my lips and tried to tear my gaze away from his, but nothing in those dark hazel eyes wanted to release me from their captive embrace. Absentmindedly, I wondered what he would do to me if I invited him backstage after the show.

  I swallowed anxiously, pushing my wayward thoughts far back to the recesses of my mind. I’d never done anything like that before and I wasn’t going to start now. I had a reputation to protect and I wasn’t going to ruin it for some stranger in the front row. I tried to take my eyes off of him and I failed.

  His dark hair was slightly mussed, and I found myself wanting to run my fingers through it. A finely trimmed beard gave him a distinctive mysterious quality that left me feeling deeply unsettled while at the same time, a little warmer than I cared to admit. I wondered if it would feel rough to the touch and my legs trembled apprehensively. His jawline was strong and angular. His suit was perfectly tailored to his finely muscled form, a jet-black fabric that nearly shone under the stage lights. His cufflinks sparkled and I found myself questioning if they were real diamonds. He smiled knowingly, and I knew at once that they were authentic and very expensive. There was a certain cool, calm, and collected aura around him that was far more unnerving than I was prepared for. Drunk guys I could handle. This one was something different and that scared me.

  He cocked his head to the side and smirked rather arrogantly in my direction. A shiver of anxiety raced down my spine and I hoped against hope that no one had seen it. He cleared his throat and I glanced from him to the drunken dude still staggering back and forth in the second row. At this point, he’d either drunk another of the three beers he’d come with or spilled it on the drunk goons beside him. I didn’t much care either way.

  “I suggest that you sit down and do as the lady says. I’d like to see the rest of the show and if you don’t quiet down, you need to get the fuck out of the club,” the man in the front row said. He didn’t shout or raise his voice, not even a little. The command in his voice rang out anyway and the entire establishment quieted down at the sound of it.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” the drunk guy slurred. I watched his friends turn to face the man in the front row. They recognized him and the instant they laid their eyes on him, they turned as white as a sheet. One of them stood up in a rush and clapped a hand over the drunk guy’s mouth in an effort to keep him quiet. That didn’t seem to stop him however, and he fought to free himself even as his buddies started to drag him off in the direction of the exit.

  “Our sincerest apologies, Mr. Romano. We’ll get him out of here at once,” one of them piped up and the man in the front row appraised him for a long moment before he nodded in agreement. The audience was silent as we all watched the heckler kick and try to fight his way back toward the stage. It took three of his friends to finally haul him out of the venue and the reigning silence that followed felt like an ominous warning to whatever was about to follow. I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  “Continue, Miss Banks,” Mr. Romano ordered.

  I stared back at him. I didn’t like his tone. I really didn’t like the fact that he just expected me to obey him either. At this point, I didn’t much care if I ever got invited back to this place again because if security wouldn’t step up to stop a drunken fool like the one that just got dragged out of here, I wasn’t safe and I couldn’t risk that again.

  Fuck it.

  “I don’t need your protection, Mr. Romano,” I sneered. “I can handle myself.”

  “That remains to be seen, Miss Banks,” he answered, just as coolly as before. His gaze darkened and even though there was a slight nervous feeling in the pit of my belly, I ignored it. There was a crowd of people watching and I wasn’t going to take anyone else’s shit tonight, not even if the paycheck was this good.

  I glared at him and cockily tilted my head to the side. This was my show and it was going to stay that way.

  “Mr. Romano, I’ll restart the show when I’m damn good and ready,” I exclaimed.

  “I’m a busy man, Miss Banks. I’ve come to see you and I would strongly advise you not to keep me waiting,” he calmly replied. He didn’t sit back down like I expected him to and no one else said anything. In fact, when I looked out into the crowd, every single pair of eyes was trained on him. It looked like they were afraid to even breathe and I turned back to him with an even deeper feeling of unease. It was too late though. I’d chosen a position and now I had to stand my ground.

  I moved forward to the edge of the stage, kneeling down as if I was moving closer to Mr. Romano. I licked my lips and crooked a finger, beckoning him to come nearer. He looked at me with a feigned disinterest, but I could tell that deep down, he wanted more, and he wasn’t going to get it.

  “I’m Chloe,” I began, smiling innocently as I prepared to give him a piece of my mind.

  “I know who you are,” he replied arrogantly.

  “This is supposed to be the part where you tell me your name,” I suggested rather haughtily.

  “Silas,” he finally answered.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I replied.

  “Likewise,” he responded evasively, and he gestured to a nearby waitress who was carrying a tray of drinks with her. She shimmied over to him with practiced swiftness and he took one of them off of the platter. “Here. Have a drink on me,” he said, holding it out to me with an open confidence. If he thought he could just buy me a cocktail and get a piece of me, he had another think coming.

  I took the offered drink and stared down into the amber liquid. I’d never taken a drink from an audience member and I didn’t really want to start, but I would play his game for a little longer. I tilted the glass and swallowed a very small amount, reveling in the burning feeling that edged down my throat. It was whiskey and top shelf stuff at that. It went down smoothly, and I elected to take another smaller mouthful as I thought about my next move, enjoying the taste before I eventually opened my mouth to speak.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t take drinks from strangers, especially ones that think they can boss me around at my very own show,” I scoffed.

  I gripped the glass more firmly in my fingers and then without even a second of hesitation, I threw the entire thing of whiskey into his arrogantly handsome face. The liquor dripped down his beard and onto the red button-up shirt that he was wearing. He went so still that I swore I could hear each drop of whiskey splash down onto the floor.

  My heart started to pound uncharacteristically fast.

  A terrified gasp sounded over the crowd. They looked at me in horror and at once I started to feel their fear myself. Silas lifted his gaze to mine and his hazel irises had gone dark. For a moment, I expected him to strike me out of anger, but he didn’t even reach for the empty glass still in my hand. Instead, he did something so bewildering that I lost the ability to even form words.

  He laughed. He fucking laughed at me like I was the most amusing thing in the world.

  “Sassy girl. You’re going to pay for that. I’m going to enjoy it, but I’m not sure you will,” he replied carefully. A waitres
s that was close by handed him a towel from her belt and he wiped the whiskey off his face. After that, he dabbed at his shirt enough to dry off the excess liquid and he gazed up at me. I stood up, wanting to put some distance between us.

  Abruptly, Silas jumped up onto stage with practiced ease. I took several steps backwards, looking to either side at the security guards watching me from the wings. They glanced from me to him and crossed their hands in front of their waists as if they didn’t see anything at all. I scowled and turned back to face him, fisting my hands at my hips in a show of brazen defiance. If they weren’t going to stop him, I was going to have to.

  He unbuttoned his suit jacket and shrugged it off his shoulders before he tossed it down to his seat in the front row. He met my eyes purposely as he unbuttoned his sleeves and slowly rolled them up one at a time, revealing strong forearms that made my mouth water just a little bit. I fidgeted nervously as I watched him, trying to figure out what he was doing and failing entirely.

  He strode toward me purposely and I stood my ground. I had to stay strong in front of everyone. I lifted my chin and tried to ensure that I didn’t show any weakness, but the way he was looking at me was making me incredibly uneasy. It didn’t appear as if my bravery slowed him down even a tiny bit. If anything, it just spurred him on. It was becoming increasingly difficult to draw in a breath and I struggled to figure out what he would do next.

  His eyes bored into mine as he approached me, leaving me even more anxious with every step that he took. My heart pounded in my chest and I thrust one hand out toward him in hopes that it would stop him, but it didn’t. Very casually, he brushed it aside and stood in front of me. He cracked his knuckles and the popping sounds were menacing enough all on their own. I tried not to tremble, but I had the sudden feeling things were about to happen that I wasn’t prepared for whether I wanted them to or not.