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CHAPTER 1

SERENA

Not long left.

That’s my mantra as I work at Vanta, an up-and-coming club in Miami. It popped up four months ago, and the rumor is that Nikolai Volkov might walk the darker side of life. Maybe even the criminal side.

That’s something the other girls whisper about, but I stay away from gossip as I work the VIP section. Silly, simpering, nonconfrontational smile tattooed to my face. Silently telegraphing one message: I’m not a threat.

I’m far from submissive and docile, but a job’s a job. I can’t afford to be picky.

I stand in the corner for now, wearing a sparkling dress that clings just a little tighter than it has to. I don’t like the way the men leer at me, but I can’t turn down the tips either. My gaze moves across the tables, from the bankers and finance bros, past the gangsters or wannabe gangsters, to the men in dark suits.

They sit under the tall one-way glass that reflects us in shimmering gray and silver. I know that Mr. Volkov’s office is behind there. He can look down on all of us. I try not to think about the last time I saw him. Shoulders back, dark messy hair, bluish-gray eyes piercing. He looked at me, his mouth tight, then he kept moving.

I smile brightly at all the tables, waiting for a gesture, glad for the break when no one beckons me. But those men keep catching my eye. Their leader is a tall, sinewy man with a silver tooth. It’s one of his two front teeth, too, an ostentatious statement. The name of his company, gang – Marlin’s–is tattooed on his wrist. He always keeps his sleeves rolled up to show it off… as he leers, staring too closely.

Rafael Cordero… I remember all the names of the men who bother to give them. Sometimes, that’s all it takes for them to tip more. But I don’t want a tip, not from him. He and his entourage have a habit of staring coldly, as if we’re meat. I prefer the hoots and hollers of the banker bros.

Across the way, I spot Celeste watching them too. Tiffany, one of our younger hostesses, is serving them champagne. I stare daggers at Rafael without meaning to. Tiff’s a sweet girl, pale, with blonde hair, saving up for a trip with her friends. She doesn’t need his crap.

I’m so caught up, I don’t even realize Mr. Volkov is walking toward me. He looks drunk, but not overly so. Not yet. I’ve seen him drunker than this. He takes a bottle of champagne from my tray, then mock bows, a smirk on his lips.

“Thank you for your service,” he says, springily, not slurring. “I mean that, Serena.”

Arrogant ass. I think he knows I know he’s annoying me, like this is a little game we play. Like he’s trying to get the real me out. Or maybe that’s all in my head. “You’re very welcome, Mr. Volkov,” I say, one eye still on the Cordero table. Thankfully, he’s let Tiff leave.

“One day, you’ll slap me,” he says, laughing darkly as he swigs straight from the bottle.

One day, I might.

“Of course not, Mr. Volkov.” He runs a tattooed hand through his hair.

I’d be afraid I’d hurt my hand. It would be easier to use the bottle to knock some sense into him.

He chuckles, then saunters away. I wonder what he does in that office of his. Does he have women in there, parties? Is he conducting business while drunk? Sometimes he’ll dance on the main floor. But it’s always as though he’s in his own world, like he’s in a trance. I thought he was on drugs at first, but he never seems like it when I speak to him. Which is rare.

Celeste gives me a tight smile from across the VIP section. She’s a wolverine of a woman. Short and fierce, with close-cropped red hair in business attire.

Soon, I’m called to a nearby table. I do what I do. Smile and behave as if my head is empty and giggle at their humorless jokes. I naturally listen too, mostly so I don’t die of boredom… or exhaustion, or stress. It’s amazing what people let slip when they don’t realize you can hear them over the music.

One man is having an affair. This woman is using her boss’s credit card to gamble. A group of bankers is exchanging naked photos of women with each other. Their wives? Taken from the internet? Who knows? I’m not naïve. I know there are tougher jobs than this. But it takes some effort to swallow down my natural responses a lot of the time.

I turn into someone else in this place, here to help Serena. Above and beyond Serena. If I didn’t have Zoe or Pico or a life to sustain, dreams to work toward, maybe I’d tell them what I thought of them. But my baby girl needs a mama who’s going to do everything she can. And Pico, bless him, he’s just too cute to give up on.

So, this is me. Here to help.

I serve more tables, all the while muttering my mantra. Not long left. Hours have passed in the flow of work. Then I see Rafael Cordero pawing at Tiff, and my blood turns cold. I feel Celeste watching me as I stride over, my balance impeccable, three bottles of champagne on a silver platter.

Tiff looks at me. Poor girl, she looks terrified. She reminds me of my baby Zoe for a moment. I turn to Rafael. I’m thirty next year. Not some girl fresh out of high school, this jerk thinks he can bully and grab. He turns to me, as do his men and their girlfriends. Two of the women look dead-eyed, staring off into the distance. The whole vibe at their table is weird.

“You have finally worked up the courage to approach, hmm?” Rafael says, his hands intertwined over his stomach.

I turn to Tiff. “It’s time for your break.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs, then hurries away. Her hunched shoulders fill me with rage. I turn to face Rafael, keeping my smile fixed in place.

“What do you think just happened, palomita?” Rafael asks.