I don’t know how long she’s been standing there…

All I know is that I like what I see.

I picked this office, high up on the fifth floor of the club, for the opulent floor-to-ceiling windows that boast a great view of the powerful Chicago skyline.

Today, it graces me with the view of this beauty.

I’ve been gazing at her through the window for the last ten minutes, and I definitely like what I see.

Angel...

The beautiful woman outside my club looks like an angel with her delicate features and ethereal beauty. Or like she belongs on a shelf display of porcelain dolls.

Her physical presence is exactly that. Angelic and doll-like.

Angel…doll.

That works perfectly because I’m the devil. People think because I do the books, I’m not as ruthless as some of the others in the business. Like I wouldn’t hesitate to pop a bullet between some poor bastard’s eyes.

They’re wrong.

I’m the devil, and I like this beauty who’s been distracting the hell out of me.

Maybe it was the angel’s magical call that lured me to look in the first place and get sucked into the distraction of her.

Although distraction is the last thing I should be thinking about, it’s exactly what I need right now. It’s food for the soul.

Food for my soul given my current situation, and this angel compels me to take a break from the shit.

Her presence feels like a refuge. Temptation. And as the devil, I’m not known for resisting sin.

Besides, devil or not, who could resist the lure of a beautiful woman? And fuck damn, one that looks like her.

I can’t imagine any other man would disagree with me if they took a look at the platinum-haired beauty who’d decided it was a good idea to cross paths with me today.

She’s just standing there.

That is all she’s doing.

Standing by the steps leading up to the club’s entrance wearing a black blazer over a little navy summer dress that hugs her perfect frame and accentuates her curves.

It looks like she intended on donning the blazer to carry a more professional look. I’m not sure if she realizes, though, that no man with eyes would give a flying fuck about her attire.

A woman like that could wear a garbage bag and still draw attention to her body for the simple reason that it was made for sin.

Serious sinning. Just the thought hardens my cock.

Why is she just standing there though?

Is she waiting for someone?

I don’t know. Mostly, I’m not sure I care about the why.

What I want is for her to come inside.

Come inside so I can get a better look. Take a good look at those piercing eyes set above her high, exotic cheekbones.

I want to take a better look at her body and get up close and personal to see if those tits of hers are real. I think they are. I’m usually good at knowing right off the bat, but she needs to come closer.

In a club like this you become a quick study with anything like that.

If she comes in here, I don’t care who she belongs to. I won’t care if she belongs to Pa himself, with his host of sluts at his beck and call while Ma pretends she’s fucking okay with it. Why? Because Pa’s the boss of the Giordano family, and the boss can do whatever he wants.

Not this trip.

I wouldn’t care who this woman belonged to.She looks completely out of place standing there.

I don’t think she’s been here before. I would remember her, and if she were coming here for pleasure, I doubt she’d just be standing there watching. We don’t open for another couple of hours, and even then, the crowd tends to roll in around nine or ten.

So…I don’t know what would bring her to The Dark Odyssey, but her visit would be most welcome.

A smile inches across my face—I must look like the Joker or some kind of psychotic madman. Maybe I have finally lost my mind.

Maybe this is it. I’m standing at the window watching a woman I don’t know. I’m planning all the ways I want to devour her, and I’m smiling to myself.

All opposites of what I should be feeling.

Should…

I hate that word with a vengeance because it intends to dictate logic and principles. I hate anything like that. It goes against me.

On this occasion though… in my current situation, I’ll let it slide.

What I should be feeling now is fear, and I hate that emotion more than anything.

Two weeks ago, Tommy got gunned down at his home. His wife and newborn son were upstairs when it happened. He’s my best friend and as close to me as my brothers are.

I think I must have experienced every emotion under the sun as my guys and I searched for the son of a bitch who thought they could get away with doing that.

Anger, sadness, grief, helplessness, the thirst for revenge. All of it took me, as we searched the streets and came up with nothing.

Nothing…

Impossible given who we are, and fear is right there in the back of my mind because I could lose Tommy. It actually seems like I might.

He’s been in a coma, and it isn’t looking good. The doctors couldn’t even manage our expectations, other than telling us he could go at any time.

I might only be the business’s accountant—my brothers and I are good with numbers—but saying I want revenge is an understatement.

What I want is blood and heads to roll.

Tommy is the best of us. I’ve known him since we were boys. We met at five years old. Went to school together and worked together. I don’t have a single memory that doesn’t involve him. Since our families are close too, he was always like a brother to me.

His father worked for Pa and handled the alliance between the Rossi family so we could have access to the docks for our shipping company. We take care of it now with Claudius Morientz, the new boss.

The shipping company is where we all work now. The day job. When I’m not at the club. While my brothers and I do the accounts, moving numbers around to make everything look legit, Tommy does the same work his father did in arranging the exports, imports, and liaison with our alliances.

He’s a guy you can trust.He’s the kind of guy you could trust with your money and your life. I don’t know what kind of shit he got into, but it wasn’t good. Looked like someone hired a hit on him, just like what happened to Frankie.

That Tommy never told me he might have been in trouble boils my blood. He has a wife and a child who could have gotten caught up in the shit. I’m not a family man. No way. I respect it though. I did with him.

Somehow, this feels worse, and I’m ashamed to say it gets to me more than when Frankie was killed—Frankie was my eldest brother, so I should feel worse about his death.

This rattles me more because I don’t know who fucking did it.

There are several assholes who want to mess with us but don’t. No run-of-the-mill guy simply messes with a Giordano and those associated with us. The name says it all, for the name and the alliances we have.

Anyone who has the balls it would take to do it is no mere person, and that’s a whole worry on its own.

In Frankie’s case, he made the first strike when he killed Stephanou Portello’s wife. We expected the hit on him even though Stephanou’s wife’s death was an accident.

In my world, that word doesn’t exist. Accident…

Accidents happen, but when you belong to the world of La Cosa Nostra, accidents are the ink that signs your death certificate.

What happened to Tommy was no damn accident. Not at all, and revenge will be sweet to me.I’m a Giordano, after all.

We deal with things differently.

Revenge courses through me, sweet and irresistible, like the lust I feel for this woman outside.

Lust is the counterbalance that equalizes my rage. Maybe it’s strange. It’s how I work though. Probably linked to that same thing that made me set up this club.

Lust makes me want to dirty this angel up with every sin in the book.

Imagine it, the angel and the devil. The angel tied to my bed or on her knees all night.

I hope she comes inside.

Okay….

I’m ready.

Ready to go in.

I pull in a deep breath, hold on to it, and allow the thought to sink in.

You made yourself come here and decided to go in.

That must mean I’m serious. I’m going to do it.

The interview.

I’m going to do the interview.

Scratch that… I don’t actually have an interview yet. But I hope to get one. And, to get one, I have to actually go inside the building and make the enquiry.

The building I’ve been standing outside for the last… what?

I glance at my watch and see it’s been a whole hour.

Geez…what the hell must I have looked like just standing outside here?

Am I that nervous?

God… of course I am.

It’s not every day you think, ‘Hey, I know what I’ll do. I’ll go work in a sex club owned by mobsters.’

That’s what The Dark Odyssey is.

Great idea, and exactly where I’d hoped to be after investing in my legal career at Harvard.

All those long years of study, starting in high school, then on to college and grad school. This is where it got me.

I’m twenty-six years old. I thought I had a bright future as a lawyer, except this is where I am after all the hard work I put myself through.

I thought I’d at least be a junior associate at some prestigious firm now.

But no…

That never happened. I saw eighteen months of my internship at Silvermans in LA before the shit hit the fan.

None of my goals, aspirations, or dreams followed through.

Nearly though… I’d almost been there, then disaster struck and led me here.

My nerves tingle, and my body shivers in response.

Get it together, girl. Dad needs you. He needs you, and so does Beth.

Knowing I was standing outside the entrance to The Dark Odyssey would probably push Dad further into that early grave that keeps threatening to take him— if he knew what this club was—but I’m here.

Here because Chloe, my very adventurous best friend who had a flair for the risqué, told me about a potential waitressing job and said it paid very, very well. Heaps more than the recent nothing I had after using all my savings to help Dad manage the situation of shit Carter had dragged us all into.

Carter, my no-good big brother, is a real asshole with no regard for his family. None whatsoever.

The first sign of his truly disgusting ways was him turning his back on Beth, his nine-year-old daughter who Dad has taken care of since she was a baby.

Unwanted by her mother, who just left her on Dad’s doorstep, and Carter, who disowned her, Dad and I took care of her.

That was bad, but Carter had to go and make things worse and drag us into the mother of all problems when he got himself in the worst trouble ever. It saw Dad owing over a hundred G’s to a bunch of drug lords who wanted Carter’s head in a box.

And that is how I got here.

I’m here, and maybe this is a chance to fix things.

I could stop us from losing everything.

On that thought, I take a step and walk up the stairs leading to the grand oak doors. My legs wobble as I put one foot in front of the other, and I’m grateful there’s no one around to see me.

Not like last night when I walked by.

I didn’t see much. Being outside, I wouldn’t have, but what I did see tugged at my imagination.

I’d be lying if I said my interest didn’t pique when I saw a woman with platinum-blond hair like mine being led away by two men. All were still wearing their masquerade masks from the party, and she was in her barely-there lingerie. One of the guys had his hands all over her as they moved along the pathway to get to their limo. The other man kissed her, shoved the straps of her negligee down her arms, and started sucking her breasts.

That was what I saw.

Right there in the street for all to see, and they didn’t care.

It was enough to give me a taste of what might go on inside.

I pull in a breath as I approach the large oak doors. The one to the left is already ajar; I just have to give it a push to go inside. I pull in another deep, deep breath, push lightly, and the door swings open.

Instantly, as I look ahead to the sophisticated design of the reception area, I straighten up and push my shoulders back, assuming my legal stance.

I may be going in to ask for this waitressing position, but I want to look good. Cool and confident, opposite to the anxiety that roils within me.

I walk inside, and my three-inch heels click-clack against the marble floor.

God… it’s actual marble, like the designer couture flooring in Neiman Marcus or Nordstrom.

Definitely classy, and a little odd in some respect, as I never expected a place like this to be linked to classy in the general sense. Not that I’ve been to many sex clubs. Or any.

It’s the unknown that’s seriously wigging me out.

I take the corner and see a dark-haired woman sitting at the reception desk. She looks to be in her late twenties, or possibly early thirties. Very pretty and classy too, like the woman I saw leaving last night.

She lifts her head as I come into view, and a little smile graces her porcelain face when I approach the desk.

“Hi,” I say and put on my best smile.

“Hello, how can I help you?” she replies, and as she smiles, I genuinely get the vibe that she’s the kind of person who strives to offer good customer service. It fits to have someone like that on reception, given the wealthy types that I’ve heard come here.

“I know this is a little impromptu, but I heard there was a job opening for a waitress position.”

There’s a noticeable shift in her mood at my answer, and I realize it’s because I’ve come to ask for a job. She probably initially thought I was a patron.

“Oh… um. Yes, there are a few positions. Can I ask who it was that informed you of the job?”

Lord… Chloe told me this could happen, so I am prepared.

“Sure, I was told to give Sal’s name. Sal Mortensen.”

Oh wow… The minute I say that, the shift in her mood comes again, and it makes me wonder who the fuck Chloe has been hanging out with. She’d told me to give Sal’s name and it would be enough to get me seen.

Sal is her new guy, but I’ve never met him. I don’t know who he is, but I’m happy right now because from the way that this woman reaches for the phone and looks at me with instant respect, it seems Sal’s name did the trick.

“That’s fine. I’ll speak to the boss and schedule an interview,” she says and presses a button on the phone’s switchboard.

“Thank you.”

The boss seems to answer straightaway, and I mentally pray for luck and cross my fingers as she starts talking.

“Hey, Boss, I have a lady here who wants to know about the waitressing job. She gave Sal’s name. Can I have a date for when she can come back to meet with someone properly?” She raises her brows when he gives his answer, and my heart squeezes. “Now? Really?”

Now?

Christ. Okay… that’s good. That’s really good. Now would be good. In my head I’d prepped myself for an interview and dressed for it too. Now is fine for me and not something I can turn away.

She hangs up, and her smile brightens. “You’re in luck. He’ll see you now. He’s in the first office on the fifth floor. There’s an elevator to the left of us.” She nods, and the smile recedes from her face. “Follow the corridor down once you get to the fifth. His is the office you first come to.”

“Thanks so much.” I smile with more gratitude than I should, then try to hold back.

If there’s one thing I know, it’s to never allow people to see how desperate you are. It doesn’t matter if it’s a life or death situation. Don’t show desperation. The minute you do, you lose the upper hand or any control.

I give her one last grin and follow her directions.