Page 106 of Cruel Love

Lucy

The thumping bass wanders up my ankles more and more with each step I take toward the club. I already feel the eyes of strangers casually taking me from head-to-toe as they stand on the street outside. I want to snap at them, tell them to shove their eyes up their asses, but I’m not on the familiar streets of Chicago right now.

I’m in fucking Moscow.

By myself, I might add, wearing nothing but a skimpy red dress and come-fuck-me boots.

Great idea, Lucy.

But I keep my head up as I tread along the sidewalk, relying on the dark eye make-up to mask the nervous jitters. It helps knowing that there’s a military-trained sniper watching my every move from a rooftop up above… somewhere…

The doorman raises a hand as I approach the door. I come to a stop in front of him and his eyes turn down, targeting my chest. The low-cut dress exposes most of my chest, including a bit of where my cobra tattoo would be — if I were a Snake Eyes agent.

He gives a passive wave, hardly glancing at me before opening the door and letting me inside. Luka was right. A girl like me has no trouble getting into the Chernyy Obuvi…

Getting back out again is a different story.

I continue forward, repeating all the warnings Markov gave me.

Don’t accept a drink from anyone.

Don’t go into an empty bathroom.

Don’t make eye contact for longer than a second, less if possible.

Basically, just don’t breathe.

I enter the main floor and constantly squint as my eyes adjust to the flashing lights. They move in time with the music, and the crowd bounces along with it. Honestly, it looks like fun. It reminds me of a normal weekend for Lucy Vaughn. You know, back before the Zappia family destroyed my life.

I do a quick scan of faces, trying to make it not-so-obvious that I’m looking for someone. That was another piece of advice from Markov.

Don’t make it seem like you’re looking for something — because it will find you first.

I didn’t want to ask what he meant by it. Now, I think that maybe I should have.

Several spotlights twist toward the center podium, following along with a girl dancing up there. Her stiff movements are doing very little to impress the men in suits sitting around but at least she can say she tried. She grips the pole and spins around like a child. I feel a flinch of embarrassment for her. We all gotta start somewhere.

A man up front waves a hand to signal to the bouncers. They instantly move out of the shadows to pull her off the stage. They toss her back to her friends like a rag doll and the group howls loudly like happy hyenas.

As the lights roam around again, they track along the circle of men sitting around the podium. It illuminates their faces one-by-one and my heart leaps into my throat as I recognize one.

Gio.

He sits back in his chair, looking into the bottom of his empty glass with boredom in his dark eyes. Even if I didn’t study photos of him before coming here, I’d still recognize a Zappia. They all have the same resting prick face. Even when Marty only had half a face, he was still the spitting image of his hideous bloodline.

A deep throbbing takes my right knee, but I ignore it. I force myself forward to wander a little closer to the podium. The gaggle of drunk girls screams back and forth at each other. One tugs on another’s arm, daring her to hop up onto the platform and show them what she’s got, but the girl cowers away in fear. I chuckle once. Peer pressure looks the same in every language.

I swallow my nerves and take a wide step up onto the platform. Lights instantly point in my direction, making my heart jump into my throat as a twitch of nostalgia takes hold of me. It’s been a long time since I’ve stood on a stage and bathed in lights and applause. I miss it, to be honest. There’s no turning back. It’s just me and the audience.

Might as well give them a show.

I raise my right hand to the pole and wrap my fingers loosely around it. I throw my weight forward, letting the momentum build before I hike up my skirt and raise my leg to rest against the hard metal.

Several cheers break out amongst the men around me. I mostly ignore them, but I let the sound fuel my movements. I close my eyes, thinking back in time to the last time I did this. I twist my calf around the pole, locking my ankle in place as even more shouts cry out in satisfaction.

The DJ changes the music from thumping techno to a deep, moody beat just for me, and the lights fade into a dark blue. I crack a smile. It’s perfect for seduction.

I open my eyes again to find Gio staring at me.

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