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Leonardo nodded with his agreement, and the rest of the kingpins followed his lead. I stood up and made my way back to my table in the back corner, effectively ending the conversation for the night. The waitress served me another drink and I turned my head when the gentle beat of music began to pump over the speakers in the corner.
A woman walked out on stage wearing a purple silk shirt and a short skirt that showed off her long and incredibly toned legs. She was wearing a pair of black kitten heels.
She was gorgeous. Fucking goddamn perfection.
I gazed at her, taking note of the way her pretty blue eyes glimmered in the stage lights and the wavy dark brown locks that cascaded down her back. She looked out at the crowd with a certain confident energy that drew me in. Instead of staying at my table, I decided to make my way to my reserved seat in the front row. I strode purposely down the aisle as several others took their seats beside me.
When I finally sat down, I crossed one leg over the other and folded my hands in my lap. She walked to the mic in the center of the stage. She was so stunning that I couldn’t take my eyes off her, not even for a second.
I bet she would be even prettier down on her knees, naked and wet as she begged to please me with her mouth.
Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement as she looked out at the crowd. I knew just a few scant details about the arrangement she’d made with the club. I’d wanted to know everything about everyone who would be in attendance tonight. Per her contract, she had been paid quite well in exchange for her performance tonight.
I could see the tension in her muscles as she prepared herself to sing. Her fingers closed around the mic and she lifted it to her lips.
I couldn’t help but imagine those pretty lips around my cock. Perhaps I would pay a visit to her dressing room after the show was over.
“Welcome, New York! My name is Chloe Banks and I’m so excited to be here tonight,” she exclaimed. The audience applauded as expected, although it was more out of politeness than excitement, I gathered.
She started to sing, and the sound of her voice surrounded me. For a long time, I was enamored by it and focused on nothing but the lyrics and her soft serenading sounds. The more I listened to her beautiful voice, the more I wanted her. She was making my cock as hard as a fucking iron spike. My balls ached because of it.
I sipped my whiskey and then she brushed her hair over her shoulder and revealed the pale skin on her throat. I imagined kissing that pretty neck hard enough to leave a bruise, but I saw something else that halted my thought process immediately.
Fucking hell. That couldn’t be what it looked like.
She had a birthmark on her neck. It was the perfect shape of a star.
My mouth went dry and I stopped moving entirely.
For a long time, I stared at the mark, trying to convince myself I was seeing things and that the shape of it on her throat was just a product of my imagination. As she sang one song after the next, I came to the conclusion that it was very real. It wasn’t makeup because when she dragged her fingers down her neck, it didn’t smudge. It was the real thing. She bore the mark that Isabella’s journal had said to look for.
Without raising suspicion, I looked around and tried to determine if anyone else recognized her. All the men peered back at her with keen interest, but only in the way that a man looks at a beautiful woman up on a stage.
I’d found her.
Isabella’s daughter was here, unknowingly trapped in a den of vipers that wanted her dead, and I was the only one who knew who she was.
Now I knew her name.
Soon I would know everything else about her, and the moment that her eyes glanced in my direction I knew that I was going to make her mine.
Chapter 2
Chloe
“Show us those pretty tits, bitch!”
Fucking hell.
I heard him before I saw him. The bright lights were blinding from atop the stage, but in between the beats of the music and the sound of my own singing, his voice was gratingly high and expectant. I did everything in my power to ignore him, but as he carried on it became harder to drown him out. Soon, it became altogether impossible.
At every show, there was always one. When the drinks started flowing and it went late enough in the night, there was usually at least one drunk heckler that wanted more than I was willing to give. I hadn’t expected this kind of behavior in a place like this though, so it caught me off guard.
It was the only thing about performing that I truly hated. I’d performed at more than my fair share of seedy clubs, so I knew how to handle a man like him.
This was more of a high-class gentlemen’s club. It was a pretty small venue and the center seats were set up close to the stage. Around the edges of the room were fancy booths encased in expensive red fabric meant for VIPs and large groups. There wasn’t a bad seat in the house. Scantily clad waitresses made sure that not a single drink in the house went empty. Several of the men in the room were wearing expensive designer suits with cufflinks that spoke to their wealth. Many of them were drinking scotch, or maybe it was whiskey. I wasn’t sure. As always though, there was a group of men who were well-dressed enough to meet the dress code it took to walk in the door but not enough to fit in with the rest of the very rich men who were sitting in the same room.
When I’d been offered the gig, it had come with a ridiculously high payout. I’d read the contract five times, trying to make sure that I wasn’t agreeing to anything other than a few hours of dancing and singing the songs I’d written myself. It seemed like easy money and once I was positive that it was just a simple performance, I’d jumped at the chance and taken the job because let’s face it, I needed the money.
