Page 4 of Devil in Disguise

My brows furrowed. “How the hell do you know that?”

“I wasn’t always a therapist, Dante.” Melissa smirked. “Go. I’ll keep her safe until you get back.”

“Keep your cell phone close. I will send you a text every day to let you know I’m still alive. If you don’t hear from me after forty-eight hours, take Danika and find Ellery Thomas. She’s an old lady in the Silver Shadows MC. Her husband, Ryder Thomas, is a patched member. Do you understand me? I will not allow my life to hurt her any more than it already has,” I said firmly as she nodded, her eyes avoiding mine. Reaching into my back pocket, I handed her an envelope. “Take this. Danny thought of everything. It’s Danika’s birth certificate and IDs, stating that you are her mother. There is also a black Amex in your name. It has no limit. Whatever you need, this card will cover it.”

“I’ve got money.”

“Which can be tracked,” I stated. “That card can’t.”

“How?” she asked, her hands trembling as she held the envelope.

I grinned. “Think whatever you want about Danny, but the man thinks of and plans for every contingency.”

“He knew something like this could happen?”

I nodded. “Yeah, and he still did it anyway.”

“Dante,” she whispered, looking up at me.

Quickly hugging her, I muttered, “Take care of our daughter. She is the most important person in our lives.”

Giving my daughter a kiss on the forehead, I didn’t look back.

I couldn’t.

Because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to leave.

Determined not to let my fear paralyze me, I left my daughter behind and headed for Will Rogers Airport, as turmoil raged within me. Each mile was a testament to the resolve forming in my heart.

Danny needed me, and I would get him out of the Playground, no matter what it took.

Chapter Two

Dante

December 30, 2024, The Playground, New York City, NY,

The cab pulled up to the curb and I could hear the club pumping as the beat of the music bounced off the walls into the dark night. Even from the cab, I could hear the laughter of patrons as they enjoyed themselves. If it were any other club, I wouldn’t worry about entering, but this wasn’t any club. It was the Playground, the most exclusive club in the city, and it just so happened to be owned and operated by the man who helped raise me, Crispin Sinclair.

The Playground was unlike any other venue in town. Neon lights that cast a mesmerizing glow against the brick façade illuminated its entrance, heavily guarded by imposing bouncers. The line of people waiting to get in snaked around the block, each person hoping for a chance to experience the magic within.

Stepping out of the cab, I adjusted my suit and made my way to the entrance, while memories of Crispin flooded my mind.

Perception was everything.

It was the first lesson he ever taught me and according to Sin, it was the most important.

Crispin Sinclair was a man of contradictions: both a stern mentor and a somewhat caring guardian when it served his purposes. Mainly, he was a narcissistic egomaniac who demanded everything his way or he fucking made your life a living fucking hell, but hey, what did I know? I only lived with the son of a bitch until I was eighteen then ran to the first college that accepted me.

Inside, the atmosphere was electric. Bodies packed the dance floor, moving in sync with the music’s pulsating beat. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and perfume. The lighting was dim, with occasional bursts of color illuminating the crowd. The city’s elite filled the VIP area, cordoned off by velvet ropes, sipping cocktails as they exchanged hushed conversations. But under all the glitz, glamor and lights, the Playground held a secret. A dark, twisted secret that only a special few lucky or unlucky individuals knew about. Far below the dance floor lay the real reason for Sinclair’s twisted fun.

His own personal BDSM club.

Walking through the throngs of people, I could feel the weight of the club’s reputation pressing down on me. Each step towards Crispin was deliberate, a reminder of the twisted journey that had led me here. The air buzzed with electrifying energy, but beneath it all, shadows lurked, whispering of the darker facets of the Playground.

Reaching the bar, I looked up and locked eyes with Crispin as he stood at the window, glaring down at me. Years may have passed, but the intensity of his gaze remained unchanged. His smile was a mask, hiding the complexity of his character—the man who’d taught me everything about perception and control, the puppet master behind every reveler’s joy and every whispered secret.

I steadied myself, remembering all the lessons I’d learned and all the pain I’d endured. This wasn’t just a reunion; it was a confrontation, a chance to reclaim my narrative and perhaps reshape the legacy Crispin had crafted for himself within these walls.

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