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I still can’t believe it. I still can’t figure out how this situation even came to pass. I still feel frozen, numb, like a puppet on strings that’s only being manipulated into movement I wouldn’t be able to make on my own.
Giulio pauses and turns around. “What’s the hold-up?”
“Nothing,” Damien says, nudging me forward.
I stumble, glad I’m wearing flats as I catch myself, but the fabric of the bridesmaid’s dress doesn’t make it any easier to move. My sister hadn’t gone for any crazy designs, but she’d still been trying to satisfy Emilio Pavone’s desire to have the “perfect” wedding, with the perfect clothing at the perfect ceremony.
My body shakes every time I remember the gunshots. How many people had died for the egos of these mafia men?
I swallow hard, trying to convince myself that Lucia is all right, but I just don’t know what happened after Damien and Giulio forced me into the car at the church. A few hours of driving to New Bristol has done nothing to soothe my nerves, especially considering the loud technopop that had been blaring through the speakers the entire time and the awful words Giulio had been speaking into my ear.
More of the same music comes blasting into the alley as Giulio opens the door to the strip club. Damien keeps his hold on my neck as he urges me to keep moving.
All three of us are out of place in these dingy surroundings, with me in my expensive bridesmaid dress, and Giulio and Damien both in suits.
My eyes land on Giulio’s feet, where instead of dress shoes, he’s wearing sandals. As soon as we’d gotten to the car, he’d switched shoes, and the sandals look ridiculous with his suit.
Not that it matters, but it’s better than looking up.
Giulio pauses by the door to talk to a large, muscled man with a buzz-cut. “Yo, Bernardo! How’s today been so far?”
The man shrugs, his tight shirt rippling with the movement. “Quiet. Had to toss out a guy who ran out of money. Stef is crying, but that isn’t new.”
Giulio sighs loudly. “Again? She’s been here what, a month? I can’t really sell her as a ‘new girl’ anymore. She has to stop with the tears.” He turns around to gesture at Damien. “Call, um, what's-her face, so she can talk to Stef and teach her how to fake it better.”
Damien tightens his hand on my neck again, then I hear a small huff as he rubs the skin. “I don’t know whowhat's-her faceis, Giulio.”
Giulio rolls his hand and snaps his fingers. “You know… Bernardo, you know who I mean, right?”
Bernardo clearly does not know, because he shakes his head. “One of the other girls?”
“No, no. I mean… Ah, right. Chantal! FromBare Essence. She’s got a way with the girls like nobody else. Actually, I’ve said I want to promote her, right?” Giulio claps Bernardo’s shoulder. “Thanks, man. Damien and I are gonna be in the VIP room, so let Donny know it’s reserved right now.”
Giulio chats with the man at the door for a little longer, and I startle when Damien’s fingers flex on the back of my neck and he guides me deeper into the shithole that’s supposed to pass as a strip club.
It’s trashy, to put it lightly—not that I’ve been in enough strip clubs to know what is or isn’t classy, but I can easily tell this one is far from the top tier—and everyone looks… tired. The scantily clad women are putting on a token performance, something I quickly look away from, and the men leer and reach out and grab even though I’m pretty sure they’re not supposed to touch. No one stops them.
We keep pausing while Giulio talks to people. He smiles and jokes with them, putting me on edge. Giulio kidnapped me. He runs seedy clubs. He’s the heir to a large, sprawling criminal empire, complete with drugs and human trafficking. How can he be so… irreverent, so jovial?
By contrast, my father had been constantly angry, always threatening violence. There were no casual jokes there.
I blink at the sudden prickling in my eyes. I don’t want to cry. I can’t cry, not now. I don’t know why I’m upset about my father’s death now, when I’d never liked him. But he might still have been able to do something about my situation.
It’s almost enough to make a hysterical giggle spill past my lips.
Like he’d helped Lucia?
No, I still would’ve been on my own.
We finally arrive at a black door decorated with some tacky decals. Faded letters declare the room beyond “VIP.”
Giulio opens the door and immediately goes to sit on the wide couch by the seating area. I notice it’s made of a black, smooth material. Not leather, nothing so rich could possibly be here, but something easy to clean.
A pole runs down the center of the sitting area, and all the seating is arranged around the pole so it’s front and center. There’s a bed on the other side of the room.
Damien taps my ankle with his foot, wordlessly telling me to move inside.
Giulio grins and pats the spot on the couch next to him. “Vanessa… Nessa, is that what your sister calls you? Come on, sit with me. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
