Page 29 of One Wild Night

"Where are we headed, boss?" Bennett asked, stretching out in the back seat as Jamie drove.

"Brazil," I sighed, watching the club get smaller behind me. "We have some business to smooth over."

"Brazil!" Bennett replied, excited. "Will I be able to work on my tan?"

"A tan," Jamie chuckled. "You’re just thinking about all the Brazilian pussy you plan on sampling." I had to laugh at that. Maybe I needed to think about some Brazilian pussy, too.

"Just keep yourselves focused, boys. We have a job to do first, and then we can have some fun," I added as the car sped onto the highway.

Chapter 12

Siena

Why did it feel likeI left a piece of my soul behind when the car pulled away from the curb? It was just one weekend—a fling. A few days of the most amazing, mind-blowing sex I'd ever had, but still just a fling. Ryan Lawson definitely knew how to fuck. There was no arguing that point.

He had a fuck-hot body—one I'd been fantasizing about for two years—but never in my wildest dreams did I ever think he could live up to my expectations. After this weekend, I would gladly admit to being wrong about that. Not only did he live up to every single one of them, he knocked them out of the ballpark.

On the drive back to the mansion, I got lost in my thoughts. Tony had always been a selfish lover. Everything we did in the bedroom was about him and his pleasure. I spent way more time on my knees sucking him off than I did screaming his name in ecstasy as he fucked me. If I was being honest, I had to fake my orgasms more often than not so as not to give him a complex. Sweet, hot, fuckable Ryan, on the other hand, was all about givingmepleasure. His tongue...his fingers... My god, he was every woman’s dream come true. How many times could that man make me cum?

It was just my luck that I would start to fall for someone I could never have, though. I was Tony Valenti's girl, and even if he had chosen to loan me out on a bet, I didn’t see that changing anytime soon. Well, fuck him! For the first time since we’d been dating, I got something I wanted out of it. And as much as I wanted to stay with Ryan, I knew it was impossible. If he and I were to ever go behind Tony’s back, we would both be pushing up daisies within a week. One thing I'd learned in my time with Tony is that you don't mess with a mob family...especially the Valentis.

It was unbelievable how I got myself into this mess. When I left my old life behind, I swore I would never let a man control me again, and yet, here I was, in nearly the same situation. I had gone from one shitty life to another. I was working on a way out, but there was nothing I could do about it at the moment. My plan was to bide my time and then disappear forever.

My mother had died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised by my sperm donor, Allen Clark. Even though he provided half of my DNA and a roof over my head for 17 years, that man would never be my father. To put it mildly, Al was an asshole. I couldn’t tell you how much time I spent in the hospital from broken bones or concussions growing up. The fucker always told the doctors that I was clumsy and could easily trip over air or my own two feet. No one ever questioned him, either, because he was the Chief of Police of Murphy, Oregon, the small town we lived in. There was no reason not to believe him. He had the respect of the town. He could charm anyone to do his bidding without even blinking an eye. When we would finally get home, he'd tell me I was a waste of space and money, and that he couldn't wait to get rid of me any way he could. When I was 15, he threatened to sell me to one of his deputies that was “looking for a well behaved bitch to clean up after him.” He said he couldn’t, in good conscience, go through with it, because I was anything but well behaved. I fit the bitch part well, though, according to him.

I put up with his abuse for years, waiting for the chance to get the hell out of that shitty little town. By the time I was seventeen, I had managed to secretly save up about three thousand dollars. Knowing I may not get another shot, I packed my bags one night while Al was on shift at the station, and ran as far from Murphy as fast as I could. Once I’d hitchhiked over the state line and into Idaho, I worked out a plan. I could no longer be Siena Clark, so I borrowed the name of a nice old lady who had taken me halfway across Oregon on her way to visit family. I found a job in a little roadside diner, settled in at a cheap motel, and stayed for a few months. It was important never to get too comfortable or call attention to myself, so every month or two, I packed up and left without looking back. Each new place I stayed, I changed my name. I wasn't sure where I was going; I just knew that the more distance I put between me and that asshole, the better.

Between the cash I earned in tips and what I had with me when I left Oregon, I was able to make it two full years on the run. At the age of nineteen, I’d ended up in Chicago, Illinois unable to go any farther. My money had finally run out. I assumed the name Trixie and lived in homeless shelters for a while. After a few months, I managed to get a job at a small, twenty-four-hour diner, and the owner agreed to pay me under the table. A month later, I was able to rent a room at a shabby, roach-infested motel. It wasn’t glamorous by any means, but at least it was better than the shelters

I was working the graveyard shift at the diner one night. At about three in the morning, a group of men dressed in tailored suits came in and sat at a booth. They were sorely out of place in the run-down diner, but they didn't seem to notice or care. They talked amongst themselves, but stopped abruptly as I approached the table to get their orders. That was the night I met Carlo Valenti, the Boss of the Valenti mob family, for the first time. I didn't know who he was back then, so I treated him like any other customer.

The men sat and talked for hours, ordering only coffee and pie. Mr. Valenti kept his eye on me throughout the night, and I didn't know how I felt about that. If I was being honest, it sort of creeped me out. I was wary when he signaled me for the check, but I printed it out and approached with a smile on my face.

As he reached for his wallet, he grinned at me. "Ah, Miss Trixie, you are a lovely young lady with such a nice smile. May I ask what it is that has you working in a run-down hole-in-the-wall like this?"

His face was friendly and his voice sounded genuinely curious, so I decided to tell him the short version of my fucked-up life. "I was dealt a shit hand of cards in a previous life. When I moved to Chicago, it took me two months to find a place to work that would be okay with paying me off the books. It's not ideal, but it puts a roof over my head."

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