that was obsessed with her and ruthless in his determination to keep her at all costs. “He stays with me,” he said brusquely. “You have had a hard night. I will forgive you. But do not try me, darling. I would not have you attempt something brash. You must remember that I am not a fool,” he reminded her, straightening his cuffs with slow, methodical movements that betrayed his need for control in all things. “Get your rest. We will discuss things further after you’ve had a chance to think more clearly.”
He left her alone and when she heard him leave the apartment, she shuddered and tried to draw a deep breath but the air felt trapped in her lungs. There was nothing she didn’t understand with the clarity of glass. Belleni knew if he didn’t keep Nico she’d try to run again.
She’d tried to run away when Nico was born but Belleni’s watchdog, Vivian, had caught her as she’d tried to board the train. Belleni’s punishment had been to take Nico from her physically. She hadn’t even been allowed to breastfeed her own child any longer. At six weeks old Nico had been taken from her breast and put on a bottle. The punishment had served its purpose. The second time she’d tried to run, Nico had been two years old. Vivian had found a credit card receipt for airfare out of the city. Her punishment for that had been even worse. Belleni had kept her son from her for three months. By the time he’d allowed her to see Nico, her son had nearly forgotten her. Belleni had known the effect it would have on her when Nico shied away from her open arms and returned to cling to Belleni’s leg.
The pain had been unimaginable.
This time, she’d thought she’d get away.
Everything she’d worked for, all the money she’d managed to squirrel away…useless and for nothing. Her future stretched out before her in an endless road of servitude and the magnitude of her despair drowned the last ounce of hope she’d been fostering since the day Nico was born.
“Oh, baby,” she whispered as a wave of shame overtook her. She couldn’t go backward and she couldn’t move forward. She was permanently stuck under Belleni’s thumb. Tears burned her eyes and she didn’t have the strength to hold them back any longer…so she didn’t.
IT’D BEEN A WEEK SINCE the incident with the mystery woman but that coupled with the other things on his mind had served to cripple Christian’s REM time, leaving him grouchy and fatigued by morning. He rose early in spite of having hit the sheets only a few hours prior and went to the gym. Christian melted into the busy streets and walked the short distance to his local fitness center. He felt like crap, the lack of sleep was really starting to wear on him, but there was more to his edge than fatigue. His buddy and business partner Gage had been pressuring him to take a meeting with this bigwig money guy so they could finally open their own nightclub, but Christian wasn’t warm to the idea of bringing more people to the deal. That saying “Too many cooks in the kitchen…” came to mind and he could almost hear his foster mother’s voice in his head saying it, too. Mama Jo may be a couple of states away in West Virginia but her voice was firmly in his subconscious. Most times, it was a good thing because it kept him walking the straight and narrow when he might otherwise feel pulled in a different direction. Other times it was a bit annoying to have the female version of Jiminy Cricket on his shoulder.
He entered the fitness center and was met by loud music and a tattooed woman who looked as if she could bench-press him without breaking a sweat. She smiled, revealing her tongue piercing—something Christian had never found attractive—but he returned the smile as he swiped his membership ID.
Christian met Gage at the weight station where he was already doing his reps.
“You’re late,” Gage said, his face tightening with the exertion of a curling exercise set with major poundage.
Christian pulled his sweatshirt over his head and tossed it aside. “Cut me some slack. I just went to bed about three hours ago. You’re lucky I came at all.”
Gage grunted and allowed the weight to slowly release. “Yeah, yeah, cry me a river.” He grabbed a towel and mopped his face. “So, you give any more thought to what I mentioned to you the other day?” he asked, around a gulp of Vitaminwater.
Christian withheld the grimace threatening to pull on his mouth. He knew this was their best shot but it left him with a bad taste. Still, he nodded. “Yeah. I guess I’m in. What do you know about this guy? Is he solid? I don’t want to climb into bed with someone who’s going to just take my money and split,” he grumbled.
Gage brightened and grinned. “So paranoid. Yeah, he’s solid. This is what he does. He handpicks projects to invest in. Trust me, everyone in town wants this guy in their corner.”
“So how do you know him?” Christian asked.
Gage shrugged but his expression turned coy. “I just do. This is our best chance at getting the club off the ground in this environment. It’s not like we have a handful of investors lining up to open a nightclub in this economic climate. It sucks, man. That’s why it’s important that you make a good impression with him.”
“What’s his name again?” Christian asked, settling into the leg press machine.
“Frank Rocco,” Gage answered, getting ready for another set. “I think you’ll like him. He’s a nice older guy who gives off a real down-to-earth vibe. Nothing like the rest of the suits I’ve dealt with. Frank’s the kind of guy who would sit down and have a beer with you just as easily as he would drink some fancy French wine. You’ll like him,” Gage assured him with another grin. He blew out a short breath and started his sets.
They were both silent for the moment, focused on the exercise, but Christian’s mind was not on his reps but rather what he felt was a crossroads in his life. He’d always dreamed of owning his own nightclub, something classy like Martini only not quite so stuffy, but just when he thought he’d saved enough capital to quit his job so he could focus on his own project, he was faced with the unpleasant reality that no one was willing to float him a loan because he had no track record in his field. It was the proverbial catch-22. He needed experience to prove himself but he couldn’t prove himself without experience. So he needed someone who was willing to take a chance on him and his vision to get his foot in the door. It’d been a year of trying to find the capital and coming up short that had finally tipped the scale. He didn’t like the idea of being attached to a money guy but he was willing to do what it took to get his business open.
“So set up the meeting then,” Christian said, his jaw tight.
“Good, because I already did,” Gage admitted with a grunt as he lowered the weights, sweat running down his face in rivulets. “First meeting is set for next week over coffee at this little hole-in-the-wall place called Café Au Lait that supposedly makes the best espresso in the Village. Wear something casual but not too casual.”
“I know how to dress,” Christian said, shooting his friend an annoyed look. “You just worry about yourself. I always make a good first impression.”
Gage mopped his face. “You’re right. That’s why I know this is going to work. I wouldn’t have tied myself to you in this deal if I didn’t think we could make it happen. I forgot my phone at home so I’ll text you the date, time and address when we’re done here.”
“Thanks,” Christian said, appreciating his friend’s candor and his support but it wasn’t entirely altruistic on Gage’s part. Gage, like Christian, wanted to make money. He finished his set and moved to another machine to work on his deltoids. He focused on the workout, glad to blank out for a minute. The past few weeks had been hell. He loved the city but sometimes it wore him down. It was easy to stumble and fall in this
