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“C-Clay,” the bouncer on the left says. “We thought… we di-didn’t know—”
“You jokers get the fuck out the way and let the ladies through. The next time you disrespect my girl, you know what happens. We’ll see if you’re still laughing.” He makes his threat with bone-chilling ease before turning to me and taking on a cool finesse. “Hey, baby. Come on through.”
Everyone’s left stunned—the bouncers and people in line alike—as I lift my chin in the air and strut inside the club, escorted personally by one of Northam’s deadliest gangsters. Beatrice scrambles in after us.
* * *
An hour later, I’m in Clay’s VIP room. We’re alone with only the dance heavy beats bumping from the floor below. Beatrice is outside in the main VIP section, enjoying a Diet Coke and grumbling to any security guard that’ll listen.
“Don’t worry about her, baby,” Clay says, tilting my chin. He presses a kiss to my lips. “My guys are looking out for her. This is our time.”
I smile sweetly at him. Inside my chest my heart beats fast, telling me he’s correct—these moments are about the two of us. No one else matters.
Few others even know.
Beatrice does… because she’s my big sister and best friend. But no one else in the family has a clue. No one else in our social circle would ever guess.
Leontine Bernard involved with a ruthless, drug-dealing, violent gangster. Last night I was on stage at the Northam Metropolitan Arts Theater for a sold out performance ofSwan Lake. The first African American prima ballerina for the city’s prestigious dance company. TheNortham Tribuneraved about my performance and called me a rare gem in the dance world.
Tonight, I’m sitting in the lap of Clay Palmer. Otherwise known as Killer Clay.
He’s a captain in what’s Northam’s most secret criminal gang. Even more secret and underground than the Italian crime families like the Crotones and the Pizzutos. More secret than the Bratva and Yakuza organizations that exist in certain pockets of the city.
Clay’s one of the bosses in what the underground criminal world refers to as the Black mafia. They exist outside of the infamous Five Families that dominate much of the city’s criminal activity. The Black mafia is its own separate organization that often partners with certain crime families when it makes sense for business.
Most notably, the Crotones.
Clay doesn’t have his own VIP room in their club for nothing. He’s a powerful man with blood on his hands and mountains of illegal cash. The very definition of danger.
I should be running scared. If my parents found out, they’d be alerting the police for an immediate crackdown of the club. They’d claim I’d been kidnapped or coerced against my will.
They’d be wrong.
Clay might be a bad guy to most in the city, but to me, he’s my boyfriend. He’s the guy who makes me smile and takes me away from the superficial world I’ve grown up in. He makes me feel more special than any silly article written in the city newspaper.
I don’t have to be perfect, practiced, pristine Leontine Bernard when I’m with him.
And he can be vulnerable with me too—nobody sees the side of him that I do. The Killer Clay they fear loves Bugs Bunny cartoons and likes to sketch in his private free time. He tells me he loves me and showers me with gifts and affection.
Now is no different.
His hand glides up my thigh while his mouth seeks out mine. “Baby, I waited all night long for you.”
“I would’ve been here sooner,” I breathe between kisses. “But Bea held me up. She didn’t want to come.”
“She doesn’t like you being here, huh?”
I shake my head and then kiss him deeper. “She’ll have to learn to make peace with it.”
“Mm, that’s what I like to hear. You look sexy, baby. You came dressed just right.”
His hands slip under my dress and into my panties. His fingers tease me before all patience is lost and so are my panties.
It’s that quick and easy.
We moan and grind, creating our own music and dance in the VIP room. His men know better than to think of interrupting us. A ‘do not disturb’ sign might as well be on the door.
The passion takes me away like a strong current at sea. I’m swimming in pleasure by the time we’re through. My head reels as I work to come down and make myself presentable again.
