Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“What the fuck was that, Angelo?” Elena looks more annoyed than anything. My sister’s harder than nails.
“There’s a girl in that house. Lucy something, I don’t know the last name. Make sure the Famiglia pays her off and takes care of her. She’s Paulie’s widow.”
Elena stares at me and shakes her head. “You haven’t changed at all.”
My sister is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. I respect her opinion more than almost anyone else.
Except she’s dead wrong about me.
I’ve changed more than she knows.
And everyone in this fucking city is about to find out exactly how much.
Chapter 2
Claudia
The bars of my cage rattle as a guy wearing two popped collars and a ten-thousand-dollar watch shoves a twenty at me.
I’m not supposed to take tips while I’m dancing. Technically, I’m not even supposed to talk to the clients. Tommy says that when I’m in the cage, I’m just a piece of the scenery, and my only job is to shake my tits and my ass and look bored but also sexy.
The bored part is easy—the sexy part takes a little more work.
But screw the rules. I need the money. I take the twenty and shove it in the front of my shimmery black bralette. The guy leers at me and leans in close, shouting over the club music. “You got time to dance with me?”
“Sorry, can’t,” I say and twist away, facing a different part of the club. The light catches the body chains wrapped around my waist. I survey the packed dance floor, trying to see if anyone noticed me take the money, but nobody’s paying attention.
The guy doesn’t take the hint.
“Come on, baby, I thought I could have whatever I wanted here. That’s what they fucking said. And I want you.”
“I’m not for sale. Pretend that I’m a lamp.”
He laughs and takes out a few hundred-dollar bills. “How about now? Maybe we can skip all this negotiation shit and go straight to the blowjob?”
I lean in close and smile. His offer is actually pretty good, but I wasn’t lying. I’m not for sale. “Okay, big guy, how about you stick your dick through the bars of my cage and I’ll suck you off right here and now?”
His eyes light up. “For real?”
I lean back and look toward where the bouncer Skinny’s sitting on his stool. I have to wave to catch his attention. “Fuck no.” I gesture at the idiot and Skinny nods before coming over. “You got two seconds to walk away. Just a fair warning.”
“What the fuck?” But the rest of his argument never leaves his mouth. Skinny’s on him like a tiger, wrenching his arm back, and drags him away as the guy thrashes and curses, his screams drowned out by the pulsing music.
Just another night in Club Cage.
I probably could’ve deescalated that situation, but I’m sick and tired of the rich assholes that always come here treating people like they’re objects. That dickhead figured he could buy me just because I’m in skimpy clothes, and in certain other parts of the club, he’d probably be right. Except down here, it’s a pretty standard club, and the rules aren’t ambiguous: unless I’m wearing a red wristband, I’m not on the menu.
Another half hour drags past. Song after song drifts by and nobody else bothers me. That’s probably for the best—my feet are aching and my back hurts. There’s not much room in this giant cage and Tommy gets really pissed if I stop dancing to take a little break. I’m on hour seven of an eight-hour shift and at this point I just want to go home, curl up in ratty sweats, and drink a bottle of cheap wine until I fall asleep.
Except a beautiful girl in a glittery gold dress glides through the crowd toward me.
She’s stunning. Tall, thin, willowy. The opposite of me in every way. I’m short, curvy, with my dad’s olive skin and big brown eyes. But she takes after our mother and looks like a freaking Nordic goddess. Most people don’t believe it when I tell them that she’s my younger sister, and I can’t blame them. Serena’s everything I’m not, and in so many ways, that’s a good thing.
“Hi, Claudie,” she says, and her eyes can’t seem to focus on me in the low light. She sounds bored, almost half-asleep. High as a fucking kite, like always. “Tommy needs you.”
“What for?” I try to get her to look me in the face, but she always manages to slip my gaze. My little sister’s like a shadow, all skin and bones these days, her thick blonde hair hanging in ringlets around her shoulders, but her face like a skeletal version of the vivacious and outgoing girl I grew up with. I try to pinpoint the exact moment when I lost her, but I can never quite find it, like a song lyric I can’t quite remember.