Dark Night

CHAPTER ONE

Shirley's POV

Given the choice between lighting my hair on fire and facing Lucas Gambino, I would not have chosen the former. But I had to remind myself why I was here in the first place.

For my father. This was for my father.

I let out a short gasp of pain as my feet caught on something hard and painful, and stopped in my tracks. One of the dark-clothed men pushed me roughly from behind.

"Move, woman!"

Suppressing the urge to curse loudly, I kept trudging up the staircase. All I could see was a thick, oppressive darkness, as a blindfold had been wound tightly around my eyes. The cloth was scratchy and made my eyes water, but that was the least of my problems.

This Gambino man was rumored to be one of the most powerful and most dangerous men in Seattle. I wondered how I would face him without stuttering and embarrassing myself.

For my father....

I was led into a large room—I supposed, from the loud echoes I was getting. I tried to memorize our turns around the house, in case I had to make a run for it. Right first, then another right, then a quick left, and down a staircase. But despite my desperate attempt to plan my escape, something inside of me knew that it was pointless.

These men would shoot me down before I made a successful escape.

I heard a man grunt beside me, and then we stopped before a door. I turned to the sound of the grunt. "I demand to know why I am being tied up and bundled around like a pig for slaughter!"

"You asked that twice already. Did you get any answer?" The man growled.

"No," I grumbled.

"Shut up, then!"

"This is harassment and kidnapping!" I protested.

"Your best plan for evading the most powerful man in New York was to run?" The man chuckled menacingly. "Best reset your priorities, girl!"

"What is that even supposed to mean?" I asked in consternation.

Instead of an answer, all I got was a shove inside the room. I let out a loud "Oof!" of surprise as I hit the ground hard. The ground was cold, and soon I began to shiver. Then I heard the door of the room close off with a loud clang.

"Master," I heard the men around me murmur.

I heard a shuffle, and then a new footstep followed. It was shorter, more purposeful than those of my kidnappers. I couldn't see a thing through the tight cloth around my eyes, but at least they'd left me my best sense: my ears. I turned my head slowly as the footsteps moved from my right to my left, as though its owner was scrutinizing me.

Then the footsteps stopped, and the person spoke.

"Turn on the lights. I'd like to see her face more clearly."

The voice was low, yet commanding. A few seconds passed, then the insides of the cloth around my face lighted up a bright orange.

"Who the fuck are you?!" I yelled, squirming within my bondages.

The person ignored my question. "Take off her blindfold," he ordered again.

Finally!

The blindfold was yanked from my face, and I squinted, trying to readjust my eyes to the sudden light. The figures in the room began to slowly take shape: several lamps stood at several random places in the room, exuding a dreamy, orange glow. The room itself was circular, its roof unnaturally high, and several couches were set in a semi-circle in its middle. Behind the chairs stood several men—I supposed the very ones who had captured me.

I looked up: there was a chandelier set high above my head, its clear-cut glass glinting with the glow from the lamps. Beyond the chandelier was a painted mural of a cherub and several saints on the roof, and I stared in awe at it for an unhealthy amount of time.

Then I heard a voice which sent chills to my heart.

"Look at me," it said.

I slowly pulled my gaze from the mural and looked down. My eyes met a pair of piercing blue ones, and I gasped and scooted backwards, hitting a couch in the process.

"Running again?" The man slowly followed me as I moved away from him, his footsteps low, yet heavy.

"What do you want from me?" I spat.

Ignoring my question yet again, he squatted in front of me and placed a warm hand underneath my chin. Then he raised my head to meet his eyes.

His dark hair was slicked back against his head in a long ponytail, making his icy blue eyes pop. His pale lips was twisted in a smile. "I want a lot, Rosa." He murmured, his breath ruffling my hair. "But first, take your clothes off."

I blanched. "What the heck?"

"You heard me," he said, then stood to his feet.

"Like hell, I will!" I retorted. "What do you think I am? My father will not—"

"Your father stole from me and decided to scarper. Your father has no power here, chic." He turned to face me. "It's just me. Now, take your clothes off."

I turned to the men behind me. "In front of them?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"I will do no such thing!" I spat. Before I knew what was happening, the man had crossed the room. He grabbed my chin in his hand again and turned my face up.

"When I give you a command, Rosa, you obey with no questions." He growled. Then he leaned down, planting a full kiss on my lips and taking me by surprise. My lips parted in response, but he had withdrawn, taking a step back. I looked up into his bright blue eyes, catching flecks of orange from the lamps around, and my strong resolve melted like wax.

Slowly I peeled off the large sweatshirt I was putting on. I waited till the man dismissed his men with a wave of the hand, then I slipped out of my Jeans too. Soon, all I had on was the tiny, brown body suit I'd worn that morning.

Thank God for body suits, I thought. I had no idea what to do, with this man's scrutinizing glare on my body.

He stroked his chin for a moment, eyes focusing on my bare shoulders. "Good. You're good enough."

I cocked my eyebrows. "Good enough for what?"

His eyes slid up to meet mine, a cold stare in them. "Why, Rosa, you're good enough for my strip club!"