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“I need to do something for Lucia,” I explained. They exchanged looks. “Go ahead and call her, I’m sure she’d loved to be bugged while she’s busy dealing with the flyer.” Their eyebrows furrowed and sweat prickled the back of my neck as I wondered if they would call my bluff, but they finally parted.
The walls down to the basement were wallpapered with bright pink Pavoni Princess Lives flyers. The slightest movement made the ends lift up. I hated them. They mocked me, reminded me how little power I had in this world, that I was simply a figurehead. I wanted to rip them all down, especially as I walked into the basement. They were such a cruel irony for these women.
Feeling more determined, I kept my eyes to the ground, trying to ignore the various velvet curtains. I had to squint to see, light never reaching the corners. It was completely different from the magic and beauty of upstairs, but then the men who came down here weren’t like the men upstairs—at least, not overtly. The men who came down here were brazen in their disregard for water spots.
My phone vibrated again so I found a discreet corner, hiding in the shadows.
Looks like you need to be reminded who you belong to.
I wet my lips; I wanted that, but then I remembered the newly installed cameras.
You’ll get caught and they’ll kill you. There are cameras decorating my room now because I waited all night to see some asshole who didn’t care. I sent it, then a second later I added, So maybe you should come.
The wait for him to respond was agonizing. I hated that I’d waited days for a text and still just waiting five seconds had me counting the number of heartbeats it took for him to respond.
I don’t give a shit. Send me a picture like that again and I’ll die ripping his lips from your neck. A small smile came to my lips, but then he sent a follow-up message. I’ll crawl through your window, fuck you so deep and hard that anytime someone touches you, you’ll only feel me.
The smile dropped instantly. How could he say that? He was everywhere—on my skin, in my blood. Once again, Anteros didn’t just win the game, he demolished the playing board. I stared at the text until a velvet partition rustled. I flattened myself against the wall as two men came out of an amethyst curtain.
“The Catacombs always give the best pussy,” one man said as he zipped up his trousers. The second guy glanced back into the room, closing the curtain with a shrug. I’d learned The Catacombs was the underground name for Lucia’s club. Fitting, since it was where souls came to die.
“Wish they were more…” He turned to his friend. “I dunno, into it?”
“Costs extra,” the first guy said. The second guy nodded as if that was all that needed to be said on the matter, and they walked up the stairs. I stared at the swaying velvet. A morbid curiosity poked my gut, telling me to go pull it aside, even though I knew what was there.
There was nothing I could do for her. I couldn’t pick her up and run away and save her.
The only thing looking would do was subject her to another violation.
I put my phone away and continued. When I got to Papa, he was asleep or passed out. He wasn’t moving and at first I feared he was dead, but then I saw his chest rise with a shallow breath. I slid down the wall and pulled out my phone. I sent a lie because it was the only play I had left.
You don’t own me.
I waited in the dungeon for an hour, hoping Papa would wake up. The ugly sounds of men getting off on unconscious or barely conscious women were too close, like whispers right into my ear, but I couldn’t get up. I knew in my marrow that Lucia was just using me, had said those things about men only breaking hearts to fuck with me, but her barbs of distrust had caught.
My eyes hurt from not blinking, from staring at Papa’s sleeping body. This far down in the basement, everything was just leeching, yellow light. After thirty more minutes of being frozen to the floor, I kicked myself in the ass and left.
Just before I reached the club, I felt a buzz in my pocket.
There’s no need to own you, Frankie. You’re going to give yourself to me.
Five
Meet me.
Go fuck yourself, Frankie responded instantly. A smile twisted the corner of Anteros’s lips, but
he quickly rubbed it out so the Wolves didn’t catch it. Not contacting Frankie for over a week after they’d met at the church had been unavoidable. The car bomb was just the first in a series of attacks by Lucia. The docks were hit, then their stockpile of weapons. They’d been on defense and searching for a way to hit back all week. Through all of the shit, he’d had to find time to heal as well.
Still, he’d been enjoying the consequences. Each time Frankie denied him, it only made him want to work harder for the reward. Each time she cursed him, it only made him want to coax sweet words from her lips.
“We’ve finally found our one up on Lucia.” Anteros shoved the phone into his desk as Pretty Boy spoke. The Wolf sat across from him on the quilted leather couch, one leg crossed over the other, arms behind his head.
When he didn’t elaborate, Anteros said coolly, “Are you building some kind of dramatic effect?”
“The Catacombs,” Little O supplied.
“As in tombs?” Anteros turned to the Wolf whose massive body was nearly bursting from the velvet wingback. “Will one of you fuckers just get to the point?”
