Chapter 82: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Andrei

There are many definitions of Hell.

My list was exhaustive, my definitions tragic.

Tonight I was adding something new to the very top.

That. Fucking. Dress.

I hadn’t purchased her clothes, I was too busy running the club, and trying to keep her alive.

The wives seemed thrilled to have someone to take under their wing. Inside of a week, she’d know how to throw knives and render a man unconscious with her thumb and forefinger.

Great.

“So, what gives?” Tex kicked my tapping foot. Shit, how long had I been doing that? I stole a glance at Alice, but she quickly looked away.

“You’re going to have to use English.” I scowled.

“The girl.” His arm hung around Mo.

“The De Lange girl, shit for brains brother, you cut his tongue out, dad’s most likely gone to ground, when are you letting her do the honors of killing her brother before we kill her?

I could feel the tension pulsing from Alice’s body.

“Do we really need to talk business?” Mo patted Tex’s cheek. “Besides, does it really matter? It’s not like anyone can escape this place.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say that even I couldn’t escape it. Physically its walls kept me here; mentally I was imprisoned by the screams of people I couldn’t help.

Chase adjusted his position next to me and looked up at Tex. “What day did you say she was exchanged for her father’s life; all the killing gets a bit fuzzy.”

Shit. Just another thing I left out for Alice to find later.

She was traded.

Meant for dead.

Surprise.

“Few days ago.” I sighed and motioned for another round. “I’ll look at the ledger. She was fed three times a day, on constant watch, and at the time was so sick we thought she would die.”

Chase flinched. “Then don’t let her.”

Luc put her hand on Chase’s arm.

His jaw ticked. “She’s a De Lange.”

“So is your wife,” I said softly. “And you don’t see me pointing a gun at her face.”

He jolted to his feet. “That was different, and you know it. She took a blood oath.”

“Yes,” I said, nodding to Luc, who looked ready to pull Chase into her arms and kiss away his anger. “She did. It’s the only reason you’re still living and not out on a killing spree.”

“To be fair,” Phoenix pointed out. “He’s still on a killing spree.”

“A controlled one,” Nixon added in, his eyes sliding from mine to Chase’s, and then he shifted in his chair and glanced at Alice.

Shit.

“Mo’s right.” I stood. “Let’s drink. We can talk business tomorrow.”

“You’re hiding something.” This from Chase.

I went stock-still and then looked over my shoulder, irritated that he would call me out in my own club. “And you’re lucky I didn’t take your wife before you had the chance.”

He lunged for me.

Nixon held him back.

I winked. “Sometimes, Chase, it’s just too easy,” I slapped him on the cheek lightly. “Keep it in check before I get security to escort you out of here.”

“Or Mary,” Tex mumbled under his breath.

“Who the hell is Mary?” Trace asked.

Nixon groaned. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Is she another one of your…” Trace gave me a sheepish look. “Girls that, you know…”

I grinned. “No, actually I don’t know. Did you want to draw me a diagram?”

Phoenix started coughing.

I sighed. “Mary’s a tarantula. We keep her at the bar.”

Trace’s eyes widened. “Is she in a cage?”

“Of a sort.” I grinned. “Why, you want to meet her?”

“I do.” Alice piped up.

All heads turned to her. Most of the men looked shocked while the women took a step away from her like she was diseased.

“What?” She smiled wide. “I never had a pet growing up, and tarantulas are so cute. I’ve heard they’re really gentle.”

“Gentle my ass,” Sergio said under his breath.

I crossed my arms. “You’re bluffing.”

She shifted on her feet. “Oh? Why would you say that?”

“Your eyes darted down to the left at the exact same moment you shifted weight, and then you licked your lips, fast not slow. You’re lying.”

“Does he do this to everyone he likes?” Bee asked out loud.

“I think I feel a bet coming on.” Dante rubbed his hands together.

I shot him a death glare.

“What?” He shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure we didn’t drop the very important subject of you suddenly being married to a woman we don’t know.”

“I have questions.” Chase gritted his teeth. “Loads of them…”

“Pleasure,” I rasped, lifting my hand to cup Alice’s face. “Not business, not tonight.”

God, it hurt to touch her, even with my gloves on.

I was numbing myself with alcohol.

And even then, I still felt her.

I took another shot and swallowed. “Deal.”

She held out her hand for me to shake it. “Deal.”

I tugged her against my chest. “That’s not how I make deals.”

“Well, shit,” Nixon muttered under his breath as I pulled out a small knife from my pocket and flicked open the blade. “Andrei…”

“What?” I called over my shoulder. “She’s the one who agreed.”

Alice’s eyes shot to the knife then back up to me. “What’s the knife for?”

“Give me your hand.” I answered to no one.

The guys went quiet, the women watched like we were the newest drama to hit Netflix as they downed their drinks over the exchange.

Slowly, Alice lifted her hand. I turned it over, palm facing up, and imagined my mark on her, my tattoo on the back of that wrist. I wanted to mark her, so anyone who saw her knew.

But not here.

Not now.

I made a tiny cut on her thumb.

And then I pulled off my glove and made a cut above the bottom star, my star. She wouldn’t know what it meant, to take a blade to your own skin, your own family tattoo.

It meant she was my blood.

I was taking it too far.

I didn’t care.

It was the dress.

The ridiculous see-through lace dress.

I pressed my thumb to hers and then clutched her hand and whispered. “I guess you’re going to have to prove you can take it.”

“The spider or you?” she mused.

Two of the guys burst out laughing while it sounded like Tex started taking bets. Fantastic.

Still holding her hand, we walked over to the bar. It was hard enough concentrating on the task at hand let alone putting up with the guys laughing. Her ass looked incredible.

I wasn’t the sort of guy who stared.

Because nothing held my attention.

Until her.

I wondered if it was a defining moment—already it was an out-of-body experience—the knowledge that for twenty-two years women didn’t turn my head. They were objects. Things.

Because it was all of my soul that I had left.

And the thought of sharing it with someone was unthinkable. The damage insurmountable.

I had one thing no one could take from me.

And I refused to be weak enough to give it.

Despite the dress.

My eyes lowered.

I used to burn people alive. I could handle a dress.

She moved ahead of me; my hand slid down to her ass.

I would rather burn a body.

She was the fire, wasn’t she?

And I was burning from the inside out.

I exhaled. “Rico.” My voice sounded funny, like it knew the rest of me was teetering out of control. “I need Mary.”

Rico was another Italian transplant. He loved working the bar because he got the most action when people got out of trouble.

He also heard the most secrets.

His head was shaved bald, and he had at least a million different colored beanies. The guy was almost too hipster to walk down the street without at least an organic coffee in hand.

“Sure thing, Boss.” He winked at Alice. I tugged her closer to me. He just shook his head and smiled. I was being possessive.

Alice stilled next to me when Rico disappeared behind the bar and then returned with what could only be described as the oldest tarantula in existence.

When I held it in one hand, its legs almost draped over the edges of my fingertips. She was mostly gray and black with a few bits of red fur.

Alice smiled down at him and held out her hand.

“Keep it flat,” I instructed.

“Okay.”

Was she really excited? About holding a tarantula? It was against humanity to like spiders, right? Didn’t women run away screaming when they saw spiders? Snakes? Mice?

She looked ready to kiss him.

I growled low in my throat, suddenly aware that I was making Mary anxious as she lifted a leg toward me, then another.

I refused to apologize to a thing.

So, I stared her down and waited for the transfer.

Rico held her out and she crawled slowly onto Alice’s hands; she had both out since Mary was so big.

I heard hollering from the guys, and the girls all looked ready to pull out their guns and shoot the poor spider.

“She’s beautiful,” Alice said reverently.

I stared at her, really stared at her.

She held Mary closer to her face. “Look at those eyes.”

I wasn’t looking at Mary at all.

And I would bet that the entire establishment agreed with my assessment of Alice’s eyes.

Stunning.

Like cut ice.

Perfect in every way.

I jerked my attention away from her face and down to Mary. “She’s very old.”

“I like her,” Alice said in a soothing voice. “You probably think it’s strange, but I’ve always liked things I don’t understand.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

The spider slowly started crawling up her arm.

Mary never crawled up anyone.

She kept moving until she rested on Alice’s shoulder like a fucking parrot, and then she seemed to just… relax against her skin.

The hell?

I eyed Rico.

He just shrugged. “Animals are good judges of character.”

“It’s a spider,” I pointed out.

“Actually, tarantulas are considered part of the crab family,” Alice piped up and held out her finger to Mary, who proceeded to lift her leg and touch her finger like they were high-fiving.

That was when I noticed every one of the guys was watching in stunned silence while the girls held up their phones taking pictures and videos.

Somehow, she’d earned their respect through a tarantula.

Somehow, she’d distracted them from the obvious.

And she’d done it by showing love and affection to something most people would shoot first and ask questions of later.

Too close to home.

My stomach clenched.

This woman, this girl, was doing things without realizing it, making me feel when I didn’t want to.

I wanted the pain.

And then the numbness.

But she kept pulling off the bandages and poking at the scars.

One day, I feared I’d get up and explode every fucking one and fall to my knees in hopes she’d accept them.

It couldn’t happen.

Not now. Not ever.

Submit to no one.

Submit to no one.

No. One.

“All right, you’ve proved your point,” I said in an aggravated voice. “Rico, take Mary?”

Alice was too close.

I was seconds from reaching for her.

From doing something that I couldn’t come back from.

It would alter me.

I wanted nothing to do with it.

The minute the spider was out of reach, I grabbed Alice by the arm and led her away from the guys.

“Another round,” I called to Rico, “Let them know I’ll be right back.”

“You got it.”

“Andrei?” Alice’s voice was sweet. She wasn’t even worried that I was dragging her half across the club by her arm. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” I laughed without a hint of humor. “Are you?”

“Yes?”

I pushed her against the dark corridor that she had walked through. “Who did you wear this dress for?”

She reared back. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes searched mine. “I thought… I don’t know, I wanted to look nice, and then I thought you might like it.”

“You thought…” I chuckled darkly. “That I might like it?”

She gulped. “Yes.”

I gripped the fabric at her thighs and slowly pulled it up. “And what did you imagine would happen if I liked it too much?” My hand stilled.

She sucked in a breath, her eyes panicked. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” I pressed my body against her, my hand still on the bottom of her dress. “Did you think I’d fall to my knees?

She shook her head. “No, that’s not—”

“Drive me crazy on purpose, and I may just take you up on that offer. Then again, I figure you’re not the sort of girl to dress for a man she doesn’t like. So why did you wear the dress?”

“Why does it matter?”

“It matters.” I needed to know she wasn’t thinking about seducing me. I needed to know she was different. I needed to know it wasn’t about me.

“I wanted,” she said in a thick voice, “to make you proud.”

I jerked away from her. “What?”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “You heard me.”

“You don’t need my praise.”

“And yet I wanted it.”

“Why?”

“Because sometimes girls like to be told they’re pretty, and because I knew you called in a favor to get everyone here so I wouldn’t feel trapped.

“I wore this dress because I thought it would complement what you were wearing, and I wanted you to be proud,” Her eyes lit up with tears. “Proud of your whore.”

“Damn it, Alice!” I roared, slamming my hands on either side of her head as she squeezed her eyes shut. “You’re not my whore!”

“But—”

My mouth crashed down across hers so fiercely I almost lost my footing.

She moaned my name.

I was not myself.

I was undone.

Out of control.

Crazed, as her nails dug into the back of my shirt and tried to pull it over my body. I rocked my hips against her core, she was hot everywhere, molten lava, ready for me, ready for this.

It was unnaturally right, the attraction I had for her, the way her body molded against mine like our souls had been separated and only just found each other again.

A throat cleared.

I was going to kill whoever that throat belonged to.

Slowly I pulled back and looked to my left. “What?”

It was Phoenix. He had a knowing look on his face. “Oh, I was just looking for the bathroom.”

My nostrils flared.

He didn’t smile.

What? He went from my mentor to my babysitter.

“Wrong hallway,” I snapped.

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.” He sighed.

Slowly I released Alice. As she slid down the wall, her face ducked into my shoulder, I held her there. “Phoenix…”

“The guys want to talk about the De Lange girl that was brought in… they won’t let it go, so I figured you’d want to know that information… hmm?”

“Yes,” I rasped, then fully released Alice and ran my hands through my hair, my chest still heaving. “Fine.”

“Go ahead,” Phoenix said with deathly calm. “I want to talk to Alice for a minute.”

I knew she was safe with him.

I didn’t want to leave.

“Andrei, I rarely use any sort of authority with you because I consider you a friend. Right now, I need you to go sit with the guys and talk.”

“Kill her, and I come after your entire family.”

“I know,” Phoenix said seriously.

I shared a look with Alice, nodded, and walked off.

The only thing I heard was Phoenix’s first sentence. “He will be the death of you.”

I wished I could say that he was wrong.

He wasn’t.