by V. F. Mason
I stuff my mouth with the strawberry, needing to sink my teeth into something or I might scream, wondering which of the sisters he offered this dance to. With my back to him, I hear nothing except the silence following his request.
“Would you like to dance?” He repeats his question, and my brows furrow at my sisters’ weird behavior.
Did they swallow their tongues from happiness? Why aren’t they jumping on this opportunity, fighting for a chance to snag the most eligible bachelor in their little world?
“Briseis.”
I freeze when my name slips past his lips, sounding sinful somehow coming from his mouth, holding promises for my name I’m not aware of.
I slowly turn around, our gazes clashing, and the air hitches in my throat when his male beauty is so close to me, along with his masculine presence that envelops me in a seductive haze.
And his sapphire pools.
Completely focused on me, their stare so hard. It leaves me in no doubt I’m the center of his attention, as his gaze fills with appreciation followed by coldness flaring, which is in such contrast to the fire blazing from his orbs, almost burning me from head to toe with its intensity.
His eyes promise me passion and retribution at the same time, only adding to my overall confusion.
How can such a combination even be possible?
Shaking my head from the fog he has imprisoned me in, I groan inwardly at my stupid silence. I forget about everything and everyone in his presence, which only proves my obsession with him borders on insanity.
He extends his open palm toward me, holding it in the air between us when he repeats, once again to my astonishment, “Would you like to dance with me?”
Stunned by his request, I stand gaping at him as my heart does thousands of somersaults inside my chest, and for a second, happiness rushes through me, awakening every hair on my body at the prospect of dancing with him.
To feel his perfectly carved muscles I’ve seen in the photos beneath my hands, his arms wrapping around me while I get to know what it’s like to be one of the women Santiago Cortez takes interest in.
For once, I won’t be the plain Briseis in the ugly dress who no one picks in this rich society.
To be the one he chooses among everyone else at this party while the whole elite watches us and….
The furious eyes meeting mine over his shoulder instantly snap me out of my dreams, pulling me back to the present, where there is no fairy tale for me.
Even though the last time they landed on me was ten years ago, I still remember what their dangerous flashing means.
One wrong move and the basement awaits me at the end of the night with a few beatings in between.
My father stands several feet behind Santiago, and his posture stays nonchalant as he winks to one of his old friends who passes, but he still sends me the warning glance.
Don’t you dare agree.
He might as well have said those words out loud.
My grandmother joins him, subtly shaking her head at me, and motions with her chin toward my sisters, indicating to me I should do as expected and give them the chance to charm a Cortez heir.
Shifting my attention back to Santiago, who gives me an odd look, I fist my hand and finally reply through my dry throat, “Thank you. I don’t know how to dance.” The lie slips past my lips easily, and this way I don’t insult him for his generous offer. Although the idea of anyone from the dark four doing anything out of their generosity is laughable. Their selfishness dictates their very action. “My sisters are great dancers though.” I dart toward the terrace, wanting to escape this place before he listens to me and the air itself suffocates me with my family’s hatred toward me.
Soon. Soon, I’ll be free.
I don’t even make it two steps before he grabs me, pulling me to the middle of the dance floor. He presses me to him to my loud gasp. One of his hands lands on my hip, his fingers digging into my skin while the other wraps around my hand, squeezing it in his palm. “No is not an answer I accept, querida. I’ll teach you anything you don’t know.” The husky promise flares my insides, and he starts to dance, murmuring into my ear, “We’re dancing a waltz. I move forward and you step back. Over and over again. Relax your back,” he orders and sways on the dance floor, moving flawlessly on it while dragging me with him.
Our movements adjust to the music, his hands holding me in his arms as he floats us around before pushing me to the side, where I barely have time to catch the tips of his fingers before he tugs me back to him, twirling us around.
His scent fills my lungs, his hard body serving as a protective shield from everyone else while my eyes stay trained on his to create an illusion of our isolation from the outside world.
In this moment, only he exists for me, and when he presses me once again to his chest, leisurely moving us on the floor, I gulp for breath, my nails burrowing into his shoulder, holding on to him in those assaults of emotion he inspires in me.
Leaning toward my ear, I feel his hot breath on my skin before he whispers, “Mentirosa.”
Liar.
I forgot all about the lie of my dancing skills, and my cheeks burn from embarrassment, yet his hold on me doesn’t loosen. Instead, he grips me even harder, almost leaving no space between our bodies, which is scandalous in the current circumstances.
The waltz isn’t a dance of passion, but of gentle interest inspiring people to get to know each other better and giving an opportunity to talk.
Or at least that’s what the dance teacher Grandmother hired for us preached. She insisted every girl of the ton should know how to handle the waltz, because it’s our ticket to a good marriage.
The music still flows around us, the musicians striking high chords with their instruments leading to the epic conclusion, and I swallow, before murmuring, “I’m sorry.” I’m not sure what the agenda was for him inviting me to dance, but he still didn’t deserve my lie or rejection.
Surprise flickers in his blue pools, quickly replaced with such fierce anger it chills my blood, his eyes becoming even more blue. He twirls me to the side again, not letting me examine his expression further, and I sway so hard I almost lose my balance, but he catches me in time, once again lifting me in his arms, spinning us around and placing me back on the floor just in time with the violin’s last chord.
He steps back, my body missing his warmth instantly, and puts his lips to my raised hand. The feel of his soft mouth sends tremors through me, the skin he kissed burning, and he smiles, although it doesn’t reach his orbs.
No, they stay ice-cold, making it seem like I’m an opponent he plans to destroy in the most vicious of ways.
“Gracias, Briseis.” He lets go of me, and only then do I notice how everyone in the room gapes at us in shock and disbelief, the women sending daggers my way while the men blink in confusion, not quite understanding why Santiago even bothered to dance with me.
The rest of the dark four are standing in a circle sipping whiskey while watching us with boredom, not paying attention to the three women gushing over them.
My family’s faces almost boil with anger, although they cover it up with smiles, because God forbid they show their displeasure to a Cortez.
Mortification travels through me at the prospect of facing their wrath when I was so close to finally gaining my freedom, and I almost jump in place when Santiago’s voice snaps my attention back to him. “No me mientas de nuevo.” With this last order of not lying to him again, he walks off toward the exit, people separating to give him room while the other dark four follow him, the heavy thumping of their leather shoes the only sounds rocking off the walls until the double doors shut behind them.
They are gone, and as always, they leave nothing but chaos in their wake.
“Dinner is ready,” Clare announces cheerfully, pointing with her glove-covered hand toward the dining room. “Please, everyone, take a seat.” The guests comply with her request, clearly losing interest in me. Dad grabs my elbow, his fingers p
ractically crushing my bone under his grip, and I whimper in pain, bringing a few glances our way, so I muster up a smile.
“Quiet,” he grits through his teeth and drags me to the hallway leading to his office, where he throws me inside.
I stumble a little, catching the back of the chair in time before I fall, and the door shuts so loudly the walls rattle. “Dad,” I say when he approaches me, “I’m so happy to—” The harsh slap to my cheek sends me flying to the floor, my skin burning from the blow and my eyes watering. Instant pain travels all over my scalp, my temples throbbing, and for a second, I don’t even hear anything besides the razor-sharp ringing in my ear.
“One day. One fucking day. That’s all it takes for you to remind me why I despise your mere existence.” My eyes scrunch at his harsh words, my heart squeezing tight, and my lungs burning from lack of oxygen. “Santiago Cortez wasn’t invited tonight for you.” Rubbing my cheek and wincing a little when the smallest of touches brings me pain, I slowly get up to his continued scorn. “Learn your place, Briseis. You’re nothing in this household and never will be. One more mistake like this, and I—”
“You will what, Father?” I ask, lifting my chin and meeting his shocked stare. “What will you do?” The muscle of his jaw tics as I step closer. “What can a coward like you possibly do?”
He pulls his elbow back, ready to deliver another blow to me, but I catch his hand midair, wrapping mine tightly around his wrist and twisting it around to his gasp before I push him back. He crashes on the table, scattering various pens and papers to the floor and under the furniture.
Shock, disbelief, and anger flash on his face, changing one after another rapidly, because he probably doesn’t know on which emotion to focus on to fully unleash it on me.
Seeing him helpless like this makes me grateful for all the self-defense classes I took back in Greece, ever since I decided to come back home.
I was willing to give them all a chance, even my abusive father. My naivety didn’t wipe away my common sense though, and learning to protect myself was the number-one skill needed among the monsters.
“Don’t ever hit me again, Father—” The coldness in my voice is so chilling it has the power to freeze even fire. “—or I’ll break your hand.” An odd thrill rushes through my veins when I see fear crossing his features before he masks it with rage, the emotions feeding some hidden part inside me, which always reared its head whenever I heard or watched stories about people who got tortured for the despicable deeds they’d done in the past.
Father finally finds his voice and shakes his head. “Get out of my house. Do you hear me? Get the fuck out of my house!”
I chuckle, putting a lid on all the good emotions I’ve ever felt toward my family, because none of them deserve it, and clack my tongue. “No, Father. We have an agreement with Grandmother. She rules this place, in case you forgot.” I swirl my finger in the air and wink at him, welcoming the ice traveling in my veins and covering my heart, creating a protective blanket over it that nothing will be able to break. I’ll personally see to that. “We both know you don’t decide anything around here. Maybe that’s why you have to hit women in order to feel like a man.” I sigh heavily. “A pity really. I wonder how your political campaign is going to go if the press sees this.” I point at my cheek, and his face reddens. He struggles for breath and tugs on his tie, loosening it up. “So be nice, Father. Otherwise, Grandmother dearest might disown you faster than me.” She wouldn’t care that he hit me, but me bringing it to public knowledge?
Oh, she might even have a stroke.
Blackmail is a powerful weapon indeed. I might get what I want faster than I thought at this rate.
Playing fair never helped anyone anyway. When in hell, play with the devil by his rules, right?
Spinning around, I stroll to the door, but his words halt my movements. “You look like her. The spitting image of Flora.” Placing my splayed palm on the door, I half turn to him while he watches me, sadness flicking in his gaze, and something akin to regret?
In all these years, he has never mentioned my mother to me, so I can’t will my legs to move. Instead, I stand waiting for him to elaborate, drinking in any information I can about her.
“She was a breath of fresh air in my life. Beautiful, kind, loving.” My eyes widen at his gentle voice; listening to him almost makes me believe he loved my mother. “Flora… my wild, blooming rose.” All gentleness is gone though when his bitter laughter rocks between us. “You took her from me. Your existence destroyed us.” A beat and then, “And right now, you proved how much of his you really are.” My brows furrow in confusion; who does he mean by his anyway? “Get out of my office, Briseis.”
Ignoring his command, I stand by the door, my feet glued to the floor until I find the courage to ask the question that has haunted me for so many years I’ve lost count.
And maybe with his answer, I’ll finally find my peace. “Did Mom… did Mom…” I take a deep breath and exhale, my hands fisting. “Did my mother love me?”
Seconds, minutes, or maybe hours pass as we stand staring at one another, my heart beating so hard I’m afraid to make a move so I don’t spoil this moment, knowing I probably won’t have an opportunity to ask ever again. I’m not even sure why he shared the little bit he did just now.
“It was in her nature to be loving, no matter the shit done to her. Her capacity to love astonishes me to this day.” His chuckle laced with defeat and self-hatred echoes through the space. “Try as she might though, she could never truly love you.”
Hurt unlike anything I’ve felt before pierces my chest with the sharp arrow of his words and is so swift I forget to breathe for a moment. Thousands of physical blows delivered to me by my family can’t compare to it; this pain almost commands me to fall on my knees and sob at the harsh truth of my life.
Where even my mother never loved or wanted me, probably detesting me for ruining her relationship.
“Thank you for your answer,” I reply as if in a trance, before twisting the knob and stepping outside, numbly walking upstairs, ignoring Lenora who calls my name, as the only sound registering in my ears is the click of my shoes on the polished marble.
Once inside the room, I sit on the edge of the bed, snatch one of the pillows, wrap my arms tight around it, and bury my face in it, screaming so loud my throat will hurt for days.
When you grow up around people who don’t give a shit about your pain, you learn to hide it in your room and unleash it on the lifeless objects that will never tell on you to anyone.
My screams gradually transform into sobs, whimpers, and heavy breathing.
I hold the pillow until it soaks up my last teardrops and I’m ready to face the world again, with my armor intact, anticipating the battle ahead of me.
Achilles used to say it’s better to die in good company than live in the bad one.
Strangely, I think this logic can be applied to love too.
It’s better to love no one than love those who don’t deserve it.
Santiago
Octavius parks the car in front of the club, and I get out before he turns the engine off, the bouncer greeting me with a nod as he removes the red rope blocking my entrance.
Inside, I walk down the narrow corridor leading to the reception desk with Samantha, our hostess, smiling brightly at us and holding two menus, but her grin quickly dies when she notices it’s me. “Santiago—”
My raised hand stops whatever else she has to say, because I’m not in the fucking mood to listen to any updates right now.
She looks over my shoulder, the heavy footsteps thumping on the floor indicating that the rest of the dark four followed me, wanting an explanation for tonight.
We’re the unbreakable unit who destroys everything in its wake; however, we don’t operate with secrets, and tonight, they went in blind.
A price I’ll have to pay for later, as all of them are mean motherfuckers ready to fucking collect debts.
Just like me.
I push at the double doors practically vibrating from the music, and the minute they open, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes envelop me, along with the loud music and click of shoes on the parquet.
People lose themselves on the dance floor, rubbing against each other, and some even engage in heavy make-out sessions that could easily transform into fucking in a corner.
Not that we give a fuck, as long as they pay the hefty price to come here. Chaos and gore are two things we thrive on, so how can we judge others who engage in it?
They know the rules and follow them; otherwise, they’re dead.
We don’t give second chances.
Out of habit, I scan the place, making sure everything is running smoothly and doesn’t require our interference, because our meeting will take a while. Our club is considered one of the most luxurious establishments in the country, with guests begging to get onto our waiting list that’s a mile long, much less inside.
Not one person slipped in here by chance; the list of guests is always reviewed carefully so we know who we are dealing with and what they can offer us should we come to collect.
What’s the point of owning the club if you can’t blackmail some people with their actions in it?
Although we do pick beautiful women from time to time to have fresh blood for all those willing to play, usually Samantha finds those.
The more mysterious the place, the more demand it has among the society that makes it profitable even if for us it’s nothing but a toy and cover.
We couldn’t care less about this fucking club despite the huge profits; it’s pocket change for the likes of us.
The place is decorated with silver, red, and black colors representing the riders, a nice touch courtesy of Florian.
The bar is located in the back, right corner with four bartenders busily preparing drinks for everyone while the rest of the staff easily navigate through the club to booths and tables in the left corner. They deliver orders of steaming food on porcelain dishes picked out by Remi.
Each one of them wears black pants and white button-up shirts.
While picking a furniture design, we settled on round, leather couches comfortable enough to sit in, along with round tables and lamps on them should anyone need to speak privately. The VIPs are on the second floor, which has several soundproof rooms with surveillance cameras in case trouble arises and someone might need our help.
