Page 17 of Caged Bliss

Tommy’s office is relatively small. There’s a desk against the far wall. On the left is a bank of small TV screens, most of them hooked up to the CCTV security system, but some of them have DVD players built in. They’re currently turned off. On the right are filing cabinets and storage bins plus a huge corkboard with schedules and time-off requests tacked up. Tommy may be a skeevy, pervy asshole, but he really does do a decent job keeping this place running.

I try to calm myself down and close my eyes. For a beat, I picture Serena the way she was before she started swallowing pills: bright-eyed, ready to get her nursing degree, the whole world spread out at her feet.

Then she came to Club Cage, met Tommy, and everything was over.

I open my eyes and get to work.

Lucky for me, I know the filing system pretty well. Tommy sometimes has the girls do paperwork for him, which means I get stuck in this little room with him while he makes lewd comments and watches the monitors, sometimes flipping to the third-floor cameras. One time he pulled up a specific feed that showed a room with a huge bed while six sweaty bodies fucked and sucked each other into oblivion, and he casually made me watch it while I put away payroll slips. I told Serena about that one and she only rolled her eyes like Tommy was just being Tommy.

Angelo hadn’t been specific about what he wanted, so I grabbed whatever I could find. Tax stuff, income statements, lists of expenses and expenditures, the most recent inventory reports, crap like that. I grab an empty folder and start shoving it all inside, sweating and biting my lip so hard I’m afraid it might bleed. A minute passes, then another, and I feel like I’m dangling over the edge of a cliff with nothing but a black endless drop beneath me.

I keep going. The folder’s stuffed with documents by the time I’m done and I briefly wonder if Tommy’s going to notice. That’s not my problem though. I start closing drawers and making sure nothing looks like it was disturbed when I hear the worst noise in the entire world.

A thump against the door, then the tell-tale click of numbers getting entered into the keypad.

I freeze. I don’t move. I can’t think. My mind’s an endless black and I’m in total prey mode. There are eight numbers in the code, and after the third, I start looking around for a place to hide.

But there’s nowhere. I could go under the desk, but whoever’s coming will spot me right away. There’s no closet, no corner, nothing to crawl under.

Four numbers. Five numbers.

I grab the tray and use it to cover the folder.

Six numbers. Seven numbers.

This was a mistake. This was such a huge mistake. I start thinking of all those excuses I came up with earlier and suddenly I can’t recall a single reason why I might be in here. I’m panicking, and that’s going to get me caught.

Eight numbers.

The lock slams open.

Chapter 9

Angelo

Ican’t take my eyes off Claudia.

I have a table in the far corner of the dance club. It’s a high top on the far side of the bar, opposite where she’s dancing, and I have a good line of sight on her, but she clearly can’t see me. I drink a whiskey and watch her moving, completely entranced by the way her hips sway, by the expressions she makes, like she’s in utter ecstasy. I know she’s faking— this is her work, after all—but it’s the most beautiful dancing I’ve ever seen in my life.

Just a girl in a cage. A nothing girl, a nobody, a distraction. And right now, she’s everything to me.

Tonight, she’s in a black bodysuit. No sleeves, cut very low to show her breasts. She’s wearing the chains again and they sparkle. Her hair’s up, showing off gold earrings, and her heels make her ass and her legs look like heaven. When she rotates around, I swear I’m fucking hard, watching those thighs.

I’m pulsing with need for her. I should be busy making plans for how to deal with Roc and Vito when Seamus gets back to me, but instead I’m in this fucking club again, this goddamn albatross around my neck, watching a girl dance.

It’s obscene. And I love it.

I’m at war with myself this whole time. One part of me wants to go over there and talk to her, but the other knows that’s only setting myself up for failure. She turned me down already, and pushing her will only make it worse. I can’t be sure she won’t run to Tommy in a pathetic attempt to score points with him, but I don’t feel like she’s that kind of woman.

And I can’t stop thinking about the look she gave him.

That pure hatred.

No, we have that in common, and I don’t think she wants anything to do with that asshole.

I study Claudia for almost an hour before Tommy and Serena emerge from a side hallway. The sister really is stunning, and she seems a little more clear-eyed this time. Tommy walks after her, his hair slicked back, his buttons undone enough to show off chest hairs and gaudy chains. He always was a fucking cliché gangster. They leave the club, and I note the bouncer gives them a mock salute.

I go back to watching Claudia. Beautiful, alluring fucking Claudia. I should just get up and talk to her. I don’t have to convince her to work for me. It can be a conversation, a normal fucking conversation, but I’ve been locked up for five years and normal fucking conversations with beautiful women are very much not my expertise anymore.

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