pROLOGUE
FIFTEEN YEARS AGO
ANIKA:
The gunshot echoes and the room falls silent for a brief moment, as I clutch my little brother tighter. Erik’s fingers dig into my back, but I can’t let him look, even though I can’t seem to look away. I hear more voices, and doors banging into walls upstairs and down, but they are barely audible because the sounds of screams are still echoing inside my head. Are they mine or theirs? I can’t be sure, but I can’t make it stop. I’m suddenly stunned by a bright light as the closet door opens the rest of the way.
“I got them. Yep. Little girl and a little boy. The father is in pretty rough shape – pretty badly beaten. It looks like he’s in shock.” The man says into his shoulder. His eyes meet mine, and I know he’s not one of them.
“Anika?” he questions, and I nod my response. I don’t think I could speak right now if I tried.
“Come on sweetie. Let’s get you guys out of there. You’re safe now,” he says holding out his hand to me, and I wish I could believe him.
I don’t move a muscle as I continue to stare at the splattered wall and stained carpet…anywhere but at my mother’s face.
“We really need to get you kids out of here.” The man says again almost pleadingly this time. I know he doesn’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here.
When I don’t make any effort to move yet again, I finally hear my father’s voice from across the room.
“Anika, go!” he says urgently in his native Russian, but his voice is so broken. He’s broken into a million pieces, and I don’t think I’ll be able to put them back together after this. I can’t fix this. Not like Mama would’ve been able to. She could fix anything.
“Papa? Papa!” I panic, finally struggling to get up while tugging my brother with me. My jeans are clinging to my leg. I look to my brother, noticing his wet pants, and I hug him tighter.
“Go!” my father says again sharply, and I finally take the police officer’s outstretched hand and he pulls us from our hiding place with ease.
“Don’t look,” I say into my brother’s ear and he buries his face into my shoulder. I’m only three years older than he is, but I know I need to protect him. Wrapping my free arm around Erik, I try to cover his face as the police officer guides me out of my parents’ bedroom.
With each step, I feel my socked feet become wetter and wetter. I don’t dare look down, but the heavy coppery smell in the air makes my stomach feel icky, and I try to fight it, but I can’t…
“Jesus!” Another person yells. “Get her out of here. She’s puking all over my crime scene.”
“Come on, pretty girl. You’ll be ok.” The officer that pulled us out of the closet says, handing me a handkerchief. He keeps saying that, almost as if he’s trying to make himself believe it too. I know he’s lying, though. There’s no way I’ll ever be ok again.
The front lawn swarms with people. They come and they go, and they trample my mother’s favorite flower garden. I watch as it gets destroyed and buried beneath bloodied boots, and I feel pain? Sickness? Anger? I’m not even sure. I just know I’m changed and broken. That’s all I can think about as the paramedics evaluate Erik and I. My brother will not let go of me even as they work, and I stare unblinking still trying to name this feeling. And I can’t come up with anything more than, empty.
“How old are you, sweetheart?” the woman startles me, as she checks my eyes.
“Thirteen,” I say, the word sticking in my throat as I glance down at my stained socks. I try not to cry. I have to stay strong for my brother.
“Today’s her birthday.” Erik mutters, offering his first words since dinner.
“Happy birthday!” the woman says cheerfully, but I can see it. She knows as well as I do, that there isn’t anything happy about this day…
CHAPTER ONE
Carter:
“Good evening, Mr. Linwood,” she purrs and bats her long, false eyelashes.
“Hello, Margot,” I respond giving only a slight nod and nothing more as I brush by her, entering the club. I’m here for one thing and one thing only, and it’s not the hostess giving me a hopeful and hungry look. No, what I seek lies deep beneath the surface, and behind heavy drawn velvet curtains that cover the glass rooms. People hear whispers and rumors, curious eyes pay to get on the list only to be disappointed, but it’s true… all of it. The sex, the taboo, the sin. It was born and bred within these walls.
The Obsidian Lounge is where people like me go to satiate their thirst for darkness and to quiet the beasts inside of them that crave pain, debauchery and degradation. To those on the outside of the circle, Obsidian is like any other exclusive, upscale club. Top shelf liquor, notable clientele, big price tags and overpriced furnishings. But for those with a big enough bank account, the right connections, and fortunate enough to be swimming at the top of the gene pool, the doors to every fantasy and nightmare are unlocked. While all of that holds a certain appeal to paying customers, I could give a fuck less.
Like I said, I’m here for one reason- to fuck the way I want to, and when I want to. Pleasure, pain, and control are the only things I ask for, and this is where I find them. It silences the voices that tell me I’m weak and powerless. Also, this lifestyle is easier than wining and dining a woman, only to find out later that she’s not willing to give me what I need. I respect that, but I don’t have the luxury of time. I’m a busy man. It’s not that I don’t want a relationship, because I do. I suppose I’ve just been married to my work for years now, and I don’t feel like wasting time with someone that I’m not compatible with. And I’m never compatible. To them it’s a game- a kink, but for me it’s a need. I need control because I know what it’s like to have none.
Never again.
“Mr. Linwood,” Ray, the club owner greets me with a handshake and a smile that I return.
“Ray. How are you?”
“Doing well, thanks. Reconsidering my offer on buying into the club yet?” he asks with a conspiratorial wink.
“Not in the portfolio plan, I’m afraid. Still investing in R&D for Lintech. Maybe sometime soon though.” I say.
“That big breakthrough?”
“Something like that,” I laugh easily, not wanting to give away just how close we are to the breakthrough he just mentioned. “Listen, I’d love to talk, but I’ve got an appointment to keep. I pat him on the shoulder.
“Understood. You take care, Carter, and I’ll see you soon.”
“Alright, man. You too.” I stride off already picturing the things I’m going to do to Gia tonight. I can’t decide yet if she’s just getting suspended or if she’s getting tied up as well.
I crave this.
I need it.
I can’t explain the allure other than power – raw, unfiltered power. When someone submits to your will so completely, it electrifies every nerve ending in your body. There’s nothing I love more than watching a woman bend until she breaks. It’s fucking beautiful.
I slip the shiny key into the black glass door, and push it open to find Gia lying naked on the bed, her golden hair laying haphazardly against the black velvet.
“Good,” I praise her. “Just how hard do you like it, Gia?” I glance at her as I loosen my tie and cuff links.
“How hard do you want to give it to me?” she shoots back in an innocent tone, and while I like her fire, it doesn’t really do much for me. Maybe because I’ve done this same thing more times than I can count, or maybe I’m too distracted by work still. Knowing that this is supposed to be my distraction, I push all of it from my head and just focus on the woman spread out in front of me.
“Get on your knees, Gia, and come here.” She does as she’s told eagerly, and I see the want in her eyes. “Undress me.”
“Yes, sir,” she says, and I cringe. That should be hot, but it isn’t. Sure, I want submission and control, but I’m not her master. That’s not really my thing and the nicknames just seem a bit too cliché at this point. I want to hear my name on their lips. I want them to know who’s making them moan. I want them knowing who’s in charge.
“Call me by my name or nothing at all,” I command as she rids me of my shirt and pants, leaving me in nothing but my boxers.
“Those too.” I nod to the only article of clothing left. She leans forward, taking the waistband of my boxers in her teeth, and works them down my body. Something about the way she follows my orders so readily, gets me hard.
Once the fabric hits the floor and is kicked aside she asks, “Now what?”
“Now you suck my cock until I tell you to stop.” She smiles at my harsh words.
God, I love my life… but as her painted lips slide down my aching cock, something in my head screams that this isn’t ever going to be enough.