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CHAPTER THREE
Past
The rain was light, but the wind was brutal. It fitted for a funeral. I didn’t know any of the people around me. Sometimes I forgot how I even got here. My mind went to autopilot the night Cassie was murdered.
I called emergency services, and they showed up within minutes. A police officer had to physically remove me from the living room.
Meaningless words were spoken, and the shiny oak casket was lowered into the ground, where Cassie would deteriorate away. I hadn’t paid much attention to the man holding an umbrella over me, covering me from the rain.
I’d been staying at an older woman’s house, just going with the flow of whatever happened next, like a leaf being carried on the wind, having no control of where it landed.
I turned my head, and the man that had been standing across from me was suddenly in front of me, kneeling down so he could look me in the eyes. His were dark, like his hair. I blinked at him, unsure who he was or what he wanted. Another man in a suit stood a little behind him, holding a red umbrella.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked me. When I shook my head, a small smile painted his lips.
Then, he said the three words I never thought I’d hear. It wasn’t as shocking as my mother saying she loved me, but it was close.
“I’m your father.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Past
Four Years Later
I chewed on the end of my pencil, trying to ignore the stripper swinging around on the pole to the left of me.
Pretty Kitty was fortunately closed until later in the evening. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been trying to do math homework at the bar. I would have been upstairs in the private lounge.
Rosebud, or Rose, as she liked me to call her, was trying way too hard to get my father’s attention by shaking her ass and doing erratic downward dogs. Gross.
The word father was still foreign to me. He’d shown up at my sister’s funeral and promised to take care of me from that moment forward. Considering I hadn’t ever used the word dad, and he wanted me to start at eleven, it was a bit awkward at first. But now it was as natural as the sky being blue.
Our relationship was rocky in the beginning, to say the least. Seth had been absent my entire life, and he had no viable excuse as to why. Not only that, he had another daughter born two weeks after I was. He never stopped trying to make it up to me, and it was safe to say I didn’t hate him anymore. Much.
“Her tits are fake,” Abigail whispered way too loudly from my other side. I glanced at the stage to make sure Rose didn’t hear that, and then shot my sister a glare.
“Willow, you’re no fun,” she pouted at me. Rolling my eyes, I looked back to my paper.
It was pointless – there was no way I was going to get anything done. My concentration was gone.
“How would you know there fake?” I asked her, slipping my paper back into my school folder.
“Uh, because the right one is way bigger than the other.” She cupped her breasts to emphasize this point, her hazel eyes full of mirth. Huh, she was right. I discreetly eyed Rose’s giant mismatched boobs and tried not to laugh. I had no room to talk; my back and my chest were the same size.
“Gotta go potty, be right back,” Abigail flashed me a smile and hopped off her bar stool. I watched her make her way across the upscale strip club and disappear down a hall, her golden hair swishing behind her.
I looked around, tapping my fingers on the bar. Pretty Kitty was just one of my father’s many establishments.
It was dome shaped, the walls were all a metallic black, and the floor was just as dark, with swirls of deep burgundy.
There was the main level, the second tier, and then the VIP lounge. But that was only for big spenders. Some would frown–ok, many would frown at two fifteen year old girls hanging out in such a place. But not Seth Borgia. When he stepped into my life, I was thrust into the world I never knew existed. How could I?
No one ever sat me down and told me there were men and women with power who seemed to have their own elite level of classification. Men and women who did things that could make the strongest man vomit out of disgust, piss his pants from fear, or give up everything he believed in for just a small taste of the lifestyle.
I was now one of these elite by default. Hence why I was sitting in a strip club on a Tuesday at four in the afternoon.
