Page 2 of Queen of Vice

God, I hated this place. My eyes began to burn again, to the point of aching. I bit down on the inside of my lip until I tasted blood. I refused to let any tears fall. I wouldn’t cry in front of these soulless, vile assholes. My gaze wandered to where a cadre of men stood observing from afar. An invisible boundary separated them from everyone else in attendance.

They exuded an aura distinctly their own. Even their suits appeared to be cut from a cloth of regality that the others lacked. Among them was one man who solely captured the essence of their difference. I blinked to make sure I wasn't seeing things.

Why the hell washehere?

Our eyes locked in a silent exchange. It was a fleeting connection, but within those few seconds, I became the sole focus of his intense scrutiny. I tore my gaze away and refocused on where I was going. I didn't know what the hell that was about, but I had a bad feeling about it.

I started to think my grandmother was wrong.

This wasn’t close to being over.

It hadn’t even begun.

CHAPTER THREE

I adjusted the Bulgari sunglasses my grandmother had thoughtfully provided. The lens concealed my true feelings on the hollow sympathies and perfunctory condolences of the attendees. I crafted a veneer of composure, a brittle facade that belied the turmoil that threatened to surface. Standing with the only family I had left, the thread of my thoughts frayed as I grappled with the uncertainty of whether I had taken my medication. It was a precarious moment to be uncertain, not the time nor the place to rectify such an oversight.

"My deepest condolences."

The words were a repetitive chorus from unfamiliar faces, each utterance accompanied by an insincere, forced look of grief. Give me a fucking break. These people had no idea who my aunt was. I wasn’t sure if the same could be said about my sister because she lived a life separate from us, but I would bet less than half actually gave a damn about her either.

They were here to be seen and see me like I was some roadside freak show. There was no end to the questions or speculation about my abrupt arrival and sudden reappearance. Those that weren’t offering bullshit sympathies were laughing, and conversing as if we were at an annual get-together instead of a wake.

“I’ll be right back.” I gently touched my grandmother’s shoulder and gave her a small smile, excusing myself. I felt eyes all over me as I crossed the room, unable to block out what everyone was saying.

“She looks just like her.”

“I thought she was dead too.”

“Where do you think she’s been?”

I let the voices wash over me, unheeded, as I made my way to the ladies' room at the back of the building. The door swung open to reveal a trio huddled over the sink. It took a moment for the scene to sink in. "Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me?” The words bounced off the walls.

I didn’t care who heard me. My reservoir of concern for our image was depleted. A curvy blonde was now looking at me likeIwas the one doing something wrong. I shook my head and promptly exited before I acted on the thought of slamming her face into the goddamn mirror. The audacity to do that here of all places was just the cherry on top of a spectacular day. I couldn’t care less that she wanted to get high, that was her own screwed-up prerogative but there was a time and a place, and this was neither. She didn’t even try to hide the powder on the rim of her nostril.

Suddenly needing a breath of fresh air, I veered sharply left, escaping the oppressive atmosphere of the venue for the sanctuary of the patio. The imperative to shield my emotions was at a critical juncture, and my defenses were dangerously close to crumbling. The instant I emerged outdoors, the sun greeted me with an unforgiving blaze, though its harshness wastempered by a soothing breeze that whispered promises of comfort.

I found solace at the edge of the patio, resting against the cool stone of the balustrade with a heavy exhale. Weariness seeped through my bones. I wanted to run away and sink into the solace of my bed, yet I dreaded the restless thoughts that awaited me when I got there. It was surreal to think a whole week had slipped by. There were still so many questions yet to be answered, the most crucial being where my sister was and who did this. The coroner told us my aunt was sexually assaulted by at least two men, beaten so badly her brain bled, and then shot in the head twice--postmortem.

It wasn’t the bullets that killed her, but the violence of the assault. I kept asking myself what kind of vile human being could do something like this? What had Molly done to deserve it? The answer was rhetorical. No one should ever have to go through what she did, to die in such a slow horrific way. She would’vefelt every ounce of inflicted pain, knowing no one was coming to save her.

Even worse, I knew she would have begged. My aunt would have pleaded for her life and in the end, was given no amount of mercy. It made me sick to my stomach. She was one of the kindest, most selfless people I’d ever met and would ever know. At my mother’s behest, she’d taken me and my sister into her home without a second thought a few months after we’d turned twelve. What was meant to be a temporary situation became permanent after our parents died.

I hated to think the incidents were related. Eleven years was a long time to hold a grudge but nothing else made sense. And I knew better. In the cruel currency of this world, debts were settled in blood. My aunt had paid the ultimate price. So whose debt did she acquire? I had no one to answer that question. I couldn’t ask Grandma, who pretended I was as delicate as blown glass. And even if he knew, Uncle Luiswouldn’t tell me the truth because he was a misogynistic, sexist asshole.

Gazing down at the koi gliding through their sculpted aquatic haven, I couldn’t help but envy the simplicity of their existence. If only my greatest concern was swimming in circles until someone offered me food. It was a sad contrast to the complexity of my own existence, which seemed to have been reduced to a tapestry woven with threads of grief and anger. So immersed in my head, I sensed his approach too late, the silent footsteps behind me barely registering in my distracted mind.

"Some people have a complete disregard for respect, don't they?"

I spun around to face him and instinctively stepped back—a terrible move on my end.Fuck.First at the cemetery and now here? I was the very last person this man should’ve been paying attention to. Worse, I couldn’t just walk away from him, which left me no choice but to remain where I was. I kept my posture straight,refusing to let his towering frame completely overshadow mine.

I’d seen him maybe once or twice before, years ago when I was just a girl and had my father as a barrier between us. Now that I was seeing him again—older and a little wiser—I had a better understanding of why women were drawn to him. His hair, the color of onyx, fell just right, managing to appear both meticulously arranged and effortlessly elegant. His suit had been tailored to accentuate every line and curve of his form.

My eyes traced the outline of an expensive watch circling a wrist that led to hands of noticeable largeness. A hint of ink trailed from under his cuffs, etched into his deep golden skin. The angular cut of his jaw could have graced any high-end ad, sharp and edged with precision, shadowed by a trim of stubble. Yet, unlike the polished models of glossy commercials, he radiated an unrefined, raw aura of masculinity.

He was undeniably gorgeous, but his beauty was more aligned with that of a predator, something to admire from afar but never approach. Well, unless you were one of the women who naively believed they could be an exception or that a man like him would ever be tamed. He regarded me with a slight smile playing on his full lips, but his light-colored eyes conveyed no specific emotion.

They had a cryptic depth, their hue reminiscent of honey encased within crystalline spheres, giving him an air of being otherworldly. My mute contemplation prompted him to lead the conversation.

---