Chapter 1
Caitlin
His eyes followed me as I worked the floor, serving drinks and collecting up empties. They never left me, constantly reminding me that my life wasn’t my own.
That he owned me.
God, I really hated this gig. The leering men and wandering hands. I didn’t work the stage no more; Zander had put a stop to that after he almost killed a guy for getting too handsy with me. Back then, part of me had thought it was charming—him protecting my honor like that—but I soon learned that protection came at a cost.
One I had been unwilling to pay.
Zander DiMarco owned this place. It was one of his high-end strip clubs in and around Providence, its door only open to those with fat wallets and expensive tastes. I’d thought it would be a safe bet.
I was wrong.
“Caitlin,” Shaun yelled over to me. “Table four drinks are up.”
Nodding, I made my way over, trading my empty tray for the one full of glasses of whisky.
“It’s the good stuff,” he said with a wink. “So serve it with a smile.”
I rolled my eyes, and he stuck his tongue between his teeth, making a tsking noise. “Lover boy can’t take his eyes off you tonight.”
“Don’t call him that.” A shudder raced through me.
“Is it so bad to have the boss’s attention?”
I forced a false smile.
If only he knew.
Of course, everyone at DiMarco’s knew to some extent. They saw the poorly covered bruises, heard me cry in the bathroom. But the number one rule of working here was not to ask questions you might not like the answer to.
And nobody, nobody questioned the boss.
I was Zander’s favorite girl. Too good to work the stage, but not good enough to avoid floor duty. Because everyone had to pay their dues, even the boss’s favorite.
Tray in hand, I headed for the table. One of the guys looked up and gave me a wolfish smile. “Well, hey there, pretty lady.”
Oh good, a charmer.
Offering him a fake smile, I gently placed down their drinks. The other two guys barely acknowledged me, too entranced by Gisele as she worked the pole with her lithe, scantily clad body.
“Enjoy your drinks,” I said. But the second I stepped away, Charmer’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.
“What’s the rush, sweetheart?”
“I’m sorry, but I have to—”
“Relax,” he chuckled, “we’re all here to have a good time. Right, Dominic?”
“Oh, I’m sure I could have a real good time with you, darling.” Charmer’s friend ran his eyes up and down my body, making me feel like a thousand spiders crawled under my skin. “How much for a private dance?” he grunted, pulling out his wallet.
“I’m just a server. You can speak to the boss about a private dance with any one of the dancers.” I flicked my head to the stage.
“Thing is though, Red,” he said, referring to my thick, auburn curls. “I don’t want a dance off any of them. I want one off you.”
My eyes darted to Shaun, hoping he would spot me and run interference before Zander realized something was wrong.
Gently yanking my arm out of Charmer’s grip, I flashed them both a saccharine smile. “You enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Just as I turned to leave, a hand slammed against the table, startling me. “Hang on a minute, you little bit—”
“Gentlemen,” Zander appeared at the table at lightning speed. I should have felt relieved, but this never ended well—for anyone.
“Who the fuck are you?” the one called Dominic asked.
“I’m Zander DiMarco, the owner of this fine establishment.” He ran a hand through his slicked-back hair before straightening his tie. “Now, what seems to be the problem?”
“Your girl here denied me a dance. My money not good enough for you, DiMarco?”
“Your money is plenty good enough, Cabrioles.”
The guy’s brows went up. “You know who I am?”
“Dominic Cabrioles.” Zander’s eyes narrowed. “Clocked you the second you walked into the joint. It’s not often we have one of Lombardi’s men in here. This is Marchetti territory,” Zander added.
The guy snorted. “The Marchetti are a dying breed. Rumor has it Antonio is sick and that son of his has gone all soft since marrying the Capizola heir.”
Everyone knew who the Marchetti were; the local crime family who ran most of Rhode Island. They hailed from Verona County but held power across the state. Their men came this way every couple of months to collect pizzo—protection money—and while Zander always paid up, he never did it with a smile.
Tensions between him and the Marchetti were even worse since there had been an incident a few weeks back. DiMarco’s got trashed in a series of break-ins targeting Marchetti owned businesses and their associates.
But you didn’t just cut ties with them.
“It’s all a game,” Zander said smoothly. “You just have to know how to play it.”
There was something in his smirk. A wicked dark glint that made me bristle.
“I only like playing games if the prize is worthwhile,” Dominic drawled, swirling his glass around. “And she…” He pointed at me. “Is a prize worth winning.”
Zander stiffened, his entire posture tight with anger. But he managed to rein it in. “Caitlin is one of my best.”
“I want to buy a dance. A private dance. I’ll make it worth your while.” He ran his finger over his thick leather wallet.
“Cait, go get us another round of drinks. It seems like me and my friends have things to discuss.”
“Wha—”
“Now, Cait.”
I hurried away, my heart in my throat. Surely, Zander wasn’t seriously going to make me dance for him?
Bile sloshed in my stomach as I approached the bar.
“What’s up?” Shaun asked.
“Table four needs another round please.” My voice shook.
He studied me, leaning closer. “Something happen?”
“I… no, I’m fine.” I smiled weakly. “Zander knows them. Or they know Zander.”
“Just… be careful, Cait. Guys like that,” he flicked his head toward them, “they always want something.”
Wasn’t that the truth.
He set about making their drinks and when they were done, I headed back toward the table on slow, shaky legs.
Zander reached for me, his hand slipping around my waist to steady my approach. “Thank you, Cait.” He waited for me to place down the drinks. “Dominic, Jasper, and I were just discussing your… talent.”
“Zander was telling us, you’re quite the dancer.”
“I…” Heat flooded my cheeks as I dipped my gaze.
“Don’t hide.” Zander’s fingers dug into my waist. “I’ve arranged a special viewing for my new friends. In the Purple Room.”
The air left my lungs.
“I-I don’t dance anymore.” My eyes locked on his, silently pleading with him not to make me do this.
“Well, tonight you’ll make an exception. Go and get ready. We’ll be there in twenty.”