Page 1 of Merciless Attraction

Chapter 1: Gemma

“Stop fingering the holes,” Natalie hisses at me as she swats my hand away from the vibrating wall of exposed brick. The wall would be beautiful if it didn’t have a gritty coat of navy-blue paint covering holes the size of my pinky finger.

“These are bullet holes,” I reply while twisting my finger back into the divot.

“If those are not your holes, take your finger out of them.” She grabs my hand, leading me away from the bullet-riddled walls.

In dresses too short to be considered clothing, we look amazing. The way men and women turn their heads, lust in their eyes, lets me know the dresses are doing exactly what they’ve been made to do; draw attention. Perhaps a hint of envy is what I feel from some who sway to the deafening music blaring across the nightclub. It’s a wonder I can hear myself think.

We shouldn’t be here.

“Nat, let’s go. I don’t like this place. Haven’t you read the stories? There was a shootout, someone got kidnapped, and they made porn in the basement or something,” I tell her while squeezing into a narrow opening between two stools in front of the bar.

“That was months ago. Besides, if we go to any of the places Downtown, we’re likely to run into one of your brothers, right? At least, here—”

I cut her off. “At least here we’ll run into some wannabe looking to make his bones by fucking with Don Sebastien’s sister.”

Natalie glares at me. It’s a reminder of why my hair is ash blonde instead a similar shade of dark brown like hers. No one’s supposed to know who I am. But on the complete opposite side of the country, I should be able to chance saying my brother’s name out loud.

“It doesn’t matter,” I tell her, hating how much I have to watch what I say. “We should go.”

“Let’s get a drink to make schlepping it out here worth it. We don’t get to party like we did in the city. You’ve been out here for months. You spent the first couple looking for a job and now that we have some free time together, you’re ready to call it a night? Come on, Gem, I’d love you so much if you just did one shot with me.”

“You already love me, Nat,” I sigh with a slight laugh. “Fine. One round of shots and then let’s get out of here. This place gives me the ick.”

“Two shots of your best Tequila.” Natalie shouts at the bartender with two fingers in the air. “Two more rounds after that, too.”

“No. I’m not drinking like we’re back in Lower Manhattan. This is San Francisco,” I groan with a roll of my eyes. “We’re not in SoHo anymore. We should take it easy.”

“We are taking it easy because we’re going to have a great time tonight and take an UBER back to our place.” Natalie beams as she tosses back a shot, and then another.

“I agree with your friend.” A man says from behind me. I try to keep my back to him, my purse clutched tight in front of me, and Natalie’s drinks in my sight at all times. Still, I can’t help tossing a look over my shoulder to see who’s speaking. His arm is up as he signals the bartender. The gesture hides his face.

My gaze catches Natalie’s. She peers over my shoulder, tipping her head to the side, and raising an eyebrow. The silent gesture tells me the man is cute enough to talk to, but I’m not feeling the most sociable right now.

“Name’s Frankie, ladies. This is my place.” He circles his finger in the air, motioning around the club.

The walls pulse with house music. Lights flash. People drink and dance. It feels like I’m not partying fast enough or hard enough to keep up with everyone else. Even Natalie’s getting drunker by the minute.

“The bullet holes are a nice touch. It really livens the place up.” I joke with a shake of my head.

Frankie steps from around my back to squeeze between me and Natalie. His beady eyes linger on my face for a few seconds before he scoffs and turns to give his back to me. Rude. Asshole. Feels just like home. He must be from New York.

“So, what can I get you to drink tonight? Especially something to loosen this one up,” he says with a thumb over his shoulder at me.

“I’m drinking Tequila.” Natalie replies.

“I’m the designated driver.” I speak to the back of his head.

“One shot. You promised.” Natalie pouts and I reluctantly agree.

Frankie hands us both a shot glass. We clink, drink, and slam the glasses on the bar top. The music continues to blare as Natalie keeps drinking with Frankie. I avoid any more shots because I’m not comfortable being drunk far away from home.

Home still pops into my mind as a one-bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Now, I'm stuck in California because it wouldn’t be safe for me to stay inThe City that Never Sleepswhile my brothers moveLa Familiaoperations to the west coast. There’s also the issue of steering clear of the NYPD. I can only hope my secret’s still safely sunk at the bottom of the East River.

“What are you doing here, Gemma?” The question sounds like a hazy whisper, but the voice strikes at me in my core. I know that voice. It’s him.

My heart races as I turn to see a face I haven’t seen since I graduated high school nearly five years ago. I take a step back, peering up into soft green eyes nestling under perfectly devil-arched eyebrows. High cheek bones with a rugged beard cut close to the skin, give his face a handsome contrast.

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