Page 28 of Cassio (Belles & Mobsters 3)

He was right. Las Vegas for all its flashy lights, hid a lot of rot underneath it all. Sins and poverty were plenty in this city. Families destroyed by gambling and drugs. As if that wasn’t enough, trafficked women and forced prostitution had started expanding greatly.

We passed the neighborhood, knowing full well we couldn’t save them all, and came to a clearing.

Fuck. Me.There was a recent explosion here. A rather big one too.

“Did he double cross us?” Luca gritted.

“No,” I told him, scanning the area. Yellow tape was everywhere and on the opposite side of the clearing was a van. The bomb squad. “There seems to have been an explosion.”

He followed my gaze. “Fuck. I hope those women weren't here.”

I hoped so too.

ChapterNine

ÁINE

“Margaret,” I groaned. “Don’t you think this is a bit too much?”

“No, I don’t,” she replied. Of course, I knew she’d say that. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. I felt uncomfortable wearing this. She picked up a sparkly little dress in the boutique of this luxurious hotel, claiming I had nothing appropriate to wear.

I beg to differ,I thought wryly. My whole suitcase contained plenty of appropriate clothing to wear. This dress she picked out for me was inappropriate. It was so short; it barely covered my ass. My whole back was pretty much exposed… naked. The dress I wore last night to the nightclub was excessively revealing, but compared to this one, it was a nun’s outfit. The side of my breasts played peekaboo each time I moved, revealing enough but thankfully not all of it. If it was just us girls having a party at home, I wouldn’t have minded. But going out dressed in something Margaret had picked out, it was bound to attract unwanted attention.

The haunting brown eyes of an unknown woman being raped frequented me. The images flashed in the back of my mind, unfocused and scrambled, causing a constant, lingering headache. I knew the signs; I was used to them by now. They had become a permanent part of all my broken pieces. And I was so damn sick of being broken.

There was only once in the past eleven years when I had felt normal. When I felt whole.

Two years ago. In the dark of a nightclub.

I could still remember how good his touch felt. His palms on my thighs, his tanned skin marred with that rose tattoo against my pale skin. Panic never came. Only lust - and feeling protected. The most ridiculous notion considering I didn’t even know his name.

The light pang of regret hit me. I should have kept my head and at least asked for his name. Or maybe it was just a casual hookup for him. For me, it was so much more.

A revelation. A hope. That maybe, just maybe I could be normal with someone. Share intimacies with a man rather than panic attacks at a simple, familiar touch.

I studied my reflection. My blue eyes stared back at me, revealing nothing of the turmoil brewing inside my brain and soul. A perfectly normal and sane young woman stared back at me. On the outside, I was put together. I was whole. Yet on the inside, I was all shattered glass with no hope of ever being repaired. The fragments of me were irrevocably damaged.

After all, it was the reason I kept visiting a therapist. To keep the images that tore at my mind at bay. I couldn’t understand where they were coming from. Maybe it was my overactive imagination at seeing the state of the women we saved. Though I didn’t think so. I remembered every single woman’s face that we’d saved since I took over The Rose Rescue. I had never seen the women that haunted my dreams and memories.

Shoving it all into a deep, dark corner, I observed my physical appearance. I stood at barely five foot six. My body was strong, resilient. It was the only thing working for me. I studied my red hair, pulled up in a high ponytail, and the vibrant color of it was striking against the silvery sparkly dress. I applied light makeup to my eyes and my lips, and a tiny bit of blush. I knew blush wasn’t necessary since I’d be blushing all damn evening. Bad side effect of being so fair-skinned.

I felt exposed. But at least my appearance hid all the fractured pieces. Everyone would focus on the flashy exterior and ignore the interior.That is the goal, I thought wryly to myself.

“Fuck, you look smoking hot,” Margaret spoke up and instantly I blushed.See, no blush needed.“Let’s see if Chad can resist you tonight.”

I groaned inwardly. Not Chad again. I hadn’t told her what happened this morning. It was over between him and me… or it would be very soon. Not that we had much of a relationship. I could barely stand his nearness.

Chad Stewart was the state’s attorney for New York. We met at one of the functions that my step-father had been invited to about a year ago. My mother had a migraine so I stepped in. I wasn’t even sure how we started dating. He was handsome, charming enough, but it wasn’t like I was attracted to him. In fact, I felt towards him the same as any other man I had ever met, except one. Physically, I couldn’t stand his touch.

Initially, I rejected his offer for coffee. Several times. But he was very determined. After multiple attempts, I finally agreed and surprisingly had a good time. I worked a lot, traveled a lot, so in theory, we didn’t spend much time together. He didn’t complain and neither did I. It kind of worked.

Though now thinking back, it really didn’t work. I should have known a platonic relationship wasn’t really dating. It was naive and stupid of me.

Either way, Chad and I weren’t for each other. We were stuck at the same spot in our relationship, if it could be called that. He didn’t stir any emotions or cravings within me. In fact, I froze every time he tried to kiss me. I sensed a while back he was getting tired of waiting. After this morning, I got my confirmation.

It didn’t hurt. There were no emotional strings attached between the two of us. What hurt the most was that I got another confirmation at how damaged I was. I tried so hard to overcome the way my body reacted. To no avail.

There was only one man that ever made me crave physical closeness.

---