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CHAPTER I
Sirenna
“This is bullshit.”
I throw myself onto the pillow, my phone landing on the bed next to me, showing death threat number fuckteen. A sound rips through the room before a stark light lands on my face, forcing me to slap a hand over my eyes. My groan morphs into a very unladylike, hung-over cough.
“Rise and shine, princess,” a familiar voice chirps. Fuck me, it’s too early to deal with her.
Mia Rogers–soon to be Lady Santori–is the only person I know who manages to sound accommodating and commanding at the same time. She’s a hustler used to getting her way, but at the same time, she’s charming and pleasant. Me? I’ve been called a stuck-up bitch more often than by my own name.
“Damn it, close those motherfuckers, will you?”
“Like hell I will.” The bed jerks when she drops onto the mattress. I don’t need to look at Mia to know her eyes are running over the empty champagne bottles lying around the hotel room. “I understand you need time to heal after everything that happened, but you seem to be growing comfortable in your misery. Let me remind you that you can't afford that. With Joseph missing, you’ve got a whole freaking empire to run, not just this hotel.”
“Not now, Mia, I’ve got a mean hangover.”
“Yeah, you’ve been having a lot of those lately. You need to snap out of it.” She props herself on her elbow beside me, so close now that I can smell her expensive perfume.
“Come on, Sirenna, you’re stronger than this.”
My phone buzzes, and the display lights up.
I don’t even bother to pick it up. Let Mia do it. See for herself why I’m not leaving this hotel for the next couple of decades. A sigh leaves her lips. You know what, let’s take this up a notch. I unlock the device for her and let her read the texts that came before it.
“So, shall I order room service?” I taunt as she reads. “You can listen to the voice messages while you enjoy a hearty breakfast. We have excellent croissants here.”
“I...wow,” she mutters, still scrolling, her eyebrows arched up. If those texts are enough to render the tough journalist Mia Rogers speechless, imagine what they’d do to the average person.
I drag myself out of bed, wrapping the discarded bathrobe around me–not because I need it since I’m going to step into the shower right away, but because I don’t want Mia asking questions that make me feel more like shit than I already do. I slept in the same tiny red dress I wore last night to the hotel bar, which dress is now crumpled, and my pantyhose is ripped. I wonder how that came to be since I didn’t eventually hook up with anybody.
I intended to. But no matter how drunk I got, I just couldn’t do it.
I squint at myself in the vanity mirror, brushing my matted hair away from my face. My eyes are swollen, my make-up smeared around them, my face puffier than usual. I look over at Mia’s reflection. She’s flawless with her shiny black hair pulled into that stylish do, her skin perfectly tan, her eyeshadow making her intelligent blue eyes pop. I used to look as dignified as her once. A lifetime ago, it seems.
Mia tries to hide it, but she’s worried as fuck. Those messages are going to haunt her for a while, too.
“I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but there’s a shitstorm on Twitter, too,” she announces. “I mean X.”
I let out a hoarse laugh that is devoid of any amusement. “Yeah, the X is all about my ex lately, it would seem.”
“Very funny. The media is all over issues when there’s room for speculation.”
“Are you, too?”
“Of course.” She gives me a slight grin. “You wouldn’t expect any less of me, would you?”
“Of course not. And, what have we got so far?” I throw over my shoulder as I head into the bathroom. I make quick work of getting rid of the dress and the pantyhose before Mia appears behind me and leans against the doorframe.
“It seems Joseph disappeared right after the big party at The Rite,” she says. “From my investigation, you were the last person who saw him that night. I made sure no one involved the police, just like you asked.”
“Thank you. As for being the last person who saw him, I was surrounded by a bunch of guys that Joseph wanted to have gang-bang me that night. Whatever I saw, they did, too,” I reply as I step into the shower. A cold spray comes down, battering my face and back. It makes me gasp sharply, chasing away the memories of that night. Every time I remember, they claw at me like hungry shadows.
Mia keeps talking, but I can’t hear her over the rush of water until the temperature adjusts, the warmth soothing away the goosebumps.
“Declan talked to all of the guys that were around you that night.” Her tone changes, growing softer. More careful as she walks closer to the shower, rivulets trickling over her face through the glass pane. “Busy as they were with you, they lost track of Joseph.”
I swallow against the bitterness coating my palate. “Could Declan even identify all of them? Most were wearing masks.” But not Joseph or I. He enjoyed letting those guys grind into me, knowing full well who they were debasing. “If you and Declan hadn’t taken over the show, arresting everyone’s attention, he would have let those bastards rape me, and I wouldn’t even know who they were.”
