While Keir stays in the better part of the city and in his nice houses, Lucas is the exact opposite. He will slum it and not give a fuck.
He’s the only person in this shitty little neighborhood just out of New York who drives a car worth more than any house you’d find here—probably double the price—yet, no one, and I mean no one, would touch it.
We all know our place.
Though, it seems for family, I’ve forgotten mine. I glance at my brother.
“You seem to be under the impression you can walk in here and take what you want.” He pauses. “My things.”
“He’s my brother,” I bite back, and a small hiss leaves someone at my outburst. I can’t see him, since he’s sitting at the end of the table where no light shines directly above him, but I know he can see me. Every inch of me as I stand under the main light near the door.
“I don’t give a fuck if he’s your son.” Brody tenses next to me. He damn well should be uneasy, making me come down here to get his ass. “Now, do as the man said and lose the dress.”
I look over at Brody.
“I’ll do it, if he can go.”
“You’re negotiating with me?” His voice is stern. “Stupid woman.”
I hold my ground. Brody knows what I do to make ends meet, but that doesn’t mean he has to see it.
“If he goes, I’ll do as you want,” I repeat, my tone even and agreeable. I can hear the sound of tapping on wood. Squinting, I see one of his hands is on the table, holding cards, while the finger of the other taps repeatedly. A ring he’s wearing catches my eye as those strong hands continue to tap, tap, tap. I wonder how someone’s hands can be so attractive. Because his certainly are.
“You can go, boy.”
I open the door, yanking Brody through the opening, then lean in so only he can hear me. “Go straight the fuck home and lock yourself in,” I order, shoving him farther and closing the door in his face. The last thing I see is the shock of his gaping mouth, ready to speak, as I slam the door behind him.
When I hear his footsteps moving away, I turn around to accept what’s coming next from the men in this room.
He is standing right in front of me when I do. Dressed in a black button-up shirt with black slacks and combat boots. It seems odd to be wearing a pair of scuffed boots with his experienced suit, but he pulls it off.
It’s not hard, though, if you look like him. When you first come across Lucas Rossi, you think, Shit, that man is attractive. How is that even possible?
The stories about him should make him ugly, hideous, a monster. But he’s young, in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, with tanned skin and slight stubble dusting his jaw. He has a tragus piercing in one ear, silky dark hair that’s perfectly mussed, and wood-colored eyes. Like the bark on a tree that has all variations of brown variegated through them. They are intense, and as they stare at me, it feels like they’re raking through my soul, scratching at it to see what’s underneath.
Well, isn’t he in for a huge surprise because there’s nothing.
I have nothing left.
“You weren’t planning on…” he pauses, licks his lips, and my eyes track each movement, “… running, were you?” He leans forward and grips a piece of my dull brown hair and then drops it. Where his is vibrant, mine hasn’t been washed for days.
I choose to not speak.
“What did you say your name was?” he pries.
Again, I keep my mouth shut. I watch as the muscle in his neck tics at my non-response. He isn’t used to someone not jumping at his every command, and right now I don’t give a shit about what he wants.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He steps back and looks down over my body. “Remove it.”
Instantly, I reach for the hem of my dress, and his eyes track my movements. I slide my hand up my leg, showing my thigh, as I raise the dress higher. After a few blinks, I glance up to see him showing no emotion whatsoever. Then, before I can go any farther, he steps close to me again.
“What do you smell like?” He leans in and, before I have a chance to react, his face is buried in my neck and he’s breathing me in.
What the ever-loving fuck?
I feel the warmth of his chest hovering above mine, as his breath tickles my neck, all while I stand there shocked and still. Then he moves his body even closer, and I feel his erection pressed against me.
And do you want to know the worst part?
I like the feel of his body against mine.
He possesses something no one has ever had over me—power—and he holds it in the palm of his hand, as if it were a toy.
“Vanilla, musk, with something a little… spicy,” he remarks, then pulls back. I watch him lick his lips, his pupils dilated while his eyes roam over me. “My last favorite flavor was cotton candy, but I soon got sick of it.”
“What did you do?” I don’t know why I asked that question, it just slipped from my mouth. His lips twitch, it seems he’s pleased that I asked. And surprised.
“I killed her.” He says those three words as if I asked him what he had for dinner. Then he licks his teeth and nods to my dress.
“Now, remove it. Otherwise, you’ll end up next to her.”
3
Chanel
The stories of Lucas aren’t made up. The man is the worst of the worst. And doing what I do for work, I know this. The girls all know him, or of him. Everyone does.
I reach for my dress again, but he holds up his hand to stop me. Then he looks behind him to everyone at the table. I’d forgotten they were there since the moment his presence took up all the breathing room in front of me.
I hate that my heart rate picks up being near him, but not because I’m frightened.
How fucked-up am I to be thinking of how large his cock might be while I know for a fact he kills the women he fucks.
That should be a big turn off.
Yet, my body betrays me and wants to know what it would be like.
Evil bitch.
I don’t even know why my body is feeling this way to begin with, considering a man has never made me come.
“Leave.”
They do as he says. Chairs scrape instantly, all of them standing in unison and then walking out the back door.
He waits and watches before he turns back to me. “You ruined my night, so you better be making it up to me.”
Again, I say nothing. He moves away and rests on the table’s edge behind him, his legs stretching out and crossing as his gaze now fully roams every part of me.
His eyes show me shades of a forest, the dark earth of the trees. Like deep within the woods, where it’s scary, Lucas is the same. He takes you out there, fucks you, then burns your body when he’s done. Your ashes scattered among the dirt floor, leaving you a worthless memory.
I begin to approach him as I reach for the hem of my dress once again, to which he raises a brow.
“Can’t say I’ve had trash for a long time.”
He did not say that.
Did he?
He just called me trash.
Fuck him, the asshole.
“Can’t say I’ve had fucked-up, asshole maniac either, but look where we are.” His legs uncross and spread before him at my words. “And that’s saying something for a whore,” I spit at him. Lucas sucks in a breath, taking two swift steps up to me. His hand lands on my hip and he grips it hard before it slides it down over my ass.