Page 61 of Dangerous Men (Fortune City Mafia #1)

SYDNEY

When I remember the night my parents died, my most vivid memory is the rain.

And the rage.

It was storming that evening, and the rain was so heavy it was almost impossible to see through the windshield, even with the wipers going at full speed. And the storm just kept growing, kept getting worse.

I was so angry. I remember clenching my fists so tight my fingernails bit into my palms. I remember wanting something bad to happen.

“I hate you,” I told them.

And I’d meant it.

After the funeral, I spent years bouncing from therapist to therapist, trying to dull the sharp edges of that memory. Years of trauma processing and desensitization that only left me feeling sick and raw. Years of mantras, of breathing exercises, of mindfulness training.

But therapy only works if you’re willing to let it work. If you face your trauma and learn to let it go .

I don’t want to let it go. Even now, when I let the memory wash over me, I want it to hurt. I need it to hurt.

I need to remember what happens when I let myself be that person.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror over my bathroom sink and let that memory hurt me. A monster stares back, her bottom lip still swollen from Viper’s bite. I drag my tongue over the wound.

Nobody likes an angry woman , Chase’s voice mocks me as I stare down the monster in my mirror.

Then Sebastian’s. I think you’re a little dangerous, too.

And I am. I know that I am. I’m dangerous. I’m a murderer. I’m the reason my parents are dead.

Next to the sink, my phone flashes with another message from Ashton. The twelfth so far. I’ve lost count of the number of missed calls.

Ashton: Are you okay?

Ashton: Please pick up, babygirl. I need to know you’re okay.

And I want to. I want to pick up my phone and talk to him. I want to invite him over and eat his stupid takeout and let him comfort me. I want him to make me laugh. I want him to tell me that everything is okay.

But it’s not.

Because today a stranger held a knife to my throat and—even knowing I should be scared and disgusted and furious with him—I’d wanted him.

Every single touch had lit a fire under my skin, and some disgusting part of me wanted him to strip me naked and take me against that alley wall where anyone could have seen.

Everything isn’t okay because Sebastian was right. I let these men into my life, and I knew deep down that they weren’t good or safe or nice . From the first moment I’d met him, I’d known Alec was dangerous. And it hadn’t stopped me.

I won’t let Ashton tell me everything is okay. I’m not sure it will ever be okay again.

Another message lights up my phone screen.

Ashton: Please, babygirl. Just talk to me.

What a pretty rose, all covered in thorns.

I swipe the notification away.

When I first met Ashton, I thought he looked like a model. His movie-star face and perfect body. His bright, easy laugh.

We’re all dangerous , Sebastian’s voice reminds me. Even Ashton, with all his pretty smiles .

I see the truth now. He’s pretty, sure, but Ashton isn’t built like a model at all, is he? He’s built like a fighter. All those delicious muscles I’d loved running my hands over and feeling beneath my fingers. They’re not for vanity. They’re not there to look good.

They’re for causing pain.

My hands are fisted so tight at my side that they hurt, my knuckles aching from the force of it. I stare at myself in the mirror, stare at the angry woman I tried to bury years ago, and I hate her. I hate her so much I want to scream.

But I know if I start screaming now, I might never stop.

I can’t remember any of my mantras. I can’t remember any of my breathing exercises. My breaths are coming too fast, my heart is beating too fast, and I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I can’t move, I can’t?—

The mirror above my sink shatters into a thousand dangerous pieces when I slam my fist into it, fracturing my image and sending shards cascading to the floor .

Regret hits me before the pain does. Horrified, I twist my hand around to see the damage. There’s blood, hot and bright red, on my knuckles, but there’s not as much as I’d feared.

The mirror, on the other hand…

Shit. Shit . There are pieces of it everywhere, all over my bathroom counter and on the floor. Dangerous, sharp pieces.

I swear, furious and ashamed, as I rinse my bleeding hand in the sink. I’m lucky. It’s not so bad, not really. I’ll need to bandage it and apply some antiseptic cream. But first, I need to grab a broom and clean up the glass. I need?—

The knock on my front door is so loud I jump, my heart leaping into my throat.

It’s followed a few seconds later by another knock, louder this time.

Gingerly, I wrap a clean washcloth around my hand and carefully step over the shards, out of the bathroom.

I shut the door behind me, hiding the damage.

I know without opening my front door that it’s one of them. I’m not surprised they’ve come to check on me. My only surprise when I peer out through the peephole is that it’s not Ashton on the other side of the door.

It’s Alec.

He’s a mess. His dark hair is disheveled like he’s been running his hands through it.

He looks frantic, standing there, waiting for me to answer the door.

For a moment, I let myself see him—really see him.

Not just Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Not just the man who waltzed with me at a charity banquet.

Mason Alexander Sterling. A businessman who never let anything stand in his way. A man with presence. A man to be feared.

A man who is dangerous.

I keep my injured hand behind my back as I open the door, hiding it.

“Hi,” I say in a small voice .

He doesn’t return the greeting. Alec’s gaze goes to my swollen lip almost instantly.

“What happened?” he asks, eyes locked on the bite. His voice is sharp.

I manage to force a laugh. “Well, I met Viper.”

Alec doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile. He moves closer to me, reaching out to graze my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. His touch is too gentle to hurt.

“Did he hurt you?” His voice is softer now. He cups my chin gently, like I’m something precious.

I give a small shake of my head. “No. No, not… not really. He scared me, but…”

I swallow hard and go quiet, pulling away from Alec’s touch. Because what could I possibly tell him?

He scared me, but I’d liked it. He’d scared me, but I’d wanted more. He’d scared me, but I’d been so wet, so desperate for what he could give me, I would have gladly let him do whatever he wanted to me.

I look away before Alec can see those thoughts in my eyes.

“And Sebastian?” Alec asks. “Did he hurt you?”

That question jars me, surprising me.

“Sebastian?” I repeat, sure I misheard him. “No. Why?”

Alec gives me a long, searching look. “He seemed to think he did, darling. He says you were… upset.”

Right. I shift a little on my feet. Of course he’d said something to them. About how we…

“So he told you what happened, then?” I wrap my arms around myself, staring at a patch of rust on my stairs’ railing. Staring at anything but him. “After Viper?”

“A little,” Alec says. “But I need to hear your side of it. Did he…” He pauses like he can’t bring himself to say it. “Darling, if he touched you without your permission?— ”

I do look at him, then, and I hold my hand out to stop him before he says anything more.

“He had my consent, Alec.” My voice is steady, and I hope he can hear the surety in it. I’d wanted it. Wanted him . Wanted every dirty thing Sebastian did to me.

Needed it , in a way that scared me.

“What happened to your hand?” Alec asks.

I look down at the cloth wrapped around my knuckles. The dull throb of pain echoes my pulse, aching with every beat of my heart.

“I cut it on some glass,” I tell him, delicately peeling the washcloth away.

There’s a patch of blood, a deep red against the clean white of the terry cloth.

But there are really only two small cuts, across my knuckles.

I flex my fingers, savoring the hurt. A fresh spot of blood wells to the surface.

Alec takes my hand in his, staring down at the wounds. Then he brings it to his lips and presses a soft kiss just above my knuckles.

A man used to the sight of blood. Unafraid of it.

“He scared you,” Alec murmurs, lips against my skin.

He did more than scare me. That’s the problem.

“You told me Viper was complicated ,” I accuse him. But I don’t pull my hand away. “He’s not complicated. He’s…”

A monster, I almost say.

Like you , that voice in my head coos.

I keep those thoughts to myself. “Were you ever really planning to introduce him to me? Or was that a lie?” I ask.

There’s a flash of something in his eyes before he answers.

“I’d never lie to you.” His voice is husky when he says it, and his fingers caress mine, carefully avoiding the cuts on my knuckles.

“I don’t believe you, Alec,” I admit.

Hurt. That’s the emotion that flashes in his eyes this time .

“Can we go somewhere to talk?” Alec asks.

“We’re talking now,” I answer, taking my hand back.

“Sydney.” Alec pins me with a look. “I don’t want to have this conversation here. Please.”

It’s the desperation in his eyes that gets me. Like he’s afraid I’ll say no. That I’ll close the door and leave him here, pleading on my doorstep.

I trace the wound on my lip with my tongue one more time. “Fine. Just… let me get my things.”

It takes me a few minutes to pull my phone out of the bits of broken mirror without cutting myself more. On my way out the door, I grab my purse and shove my phone and keys inside.

His town car is parked around the side of my building, the headlights bright in the fading evening light.

Alec guides me toward it after I lock up, his hand a comforting presence on the small of my back as he opens the car door to let me inside.

When he climbs in next to me, I half expect him to cuddle up to me, like he always does.

But he hesitates, his body stiff. When he finally settles against the seat, he leaves a few inches of space between us.

We’re both quiet as the car pulls away from the curb and glides down the street.

“Where are we going?” I ask, finally.

There’s a beat of silence before Alec answers. “My apartment.”

I trace the stitching on the leather seat between us with my finger, staring at the cuts on my hand. The bleeding has stopped. “Another penthouse?” I ask. The words are meant to be teasing, but they come out flat.

Alec’s expression flickers. “Yes and no.” He exhales loudly, running a hand over his face. “I’m taking you to my apartment, Sydney. The one place my brothers don’t know about. The one place that’s all mine. ”

My fingers still on the seat.

“He told me he saw us, you know.” I tell Alec. “After the banquet. Sebastian told me he was watching us.” I stare at him, trying to read his expression. “Did you know?”

Alec squeezes his eyes shut. He looks tired. Crushed. And he won’t look at me.

“I suspected,” he admits. “When Ashton wanted you on the bed, I assumed that was the reason. But no. I didn’t know, not for sure.”

“How was he watching?” I ask. “Were there cameras in the room?” Oh God. My stomach sinks. “Do you… do you have a recording of me? Of us?”

Alec shakes his head quickly from side to side. “No, darling. No.”

“Then how ?”

He does look at me then, and his eyes look so tired.

“Two-way glass,” he tells me. “There’s a room behind the mirror.”

The mirror. I blush remembering it. Remembering how Ashton positioned me, legs spread wide before my reflection. Like he was showing me off.

“We should have told you,” Alec says, regret heavy in his voice.

I don’t look at him. I don’t answer him.

They should have told me. It’s vile that they didn’t, vile that they let me be seen like that by someone who was a stranger to me.

But the thought of Sebastian behind that mirror, watching me? The thought of him touching himself, staring at me?

I must be broken. There must be something so deeply wrong with me that I like that idea. That it thrills me to know it happened.

The rest of the ride is short and quiet.

I can’t seem to bring myself to say anything more.

When we pull up in front of a high-rise building on the outskirts of downtown a few minutes later, I know without being told that we’ve reached our destination.

The building design is modern and expensive, and it’s exactly the sort of place I imagine Alec living.

Earl opens the doors for us once the car rolls to a stop. He gives me a small smile and a friendly nod in greeting when I climb out of the car.

I’m nervous, I realize, as the building’s doorman ushers us inside and calls the elevator to the top floor for us. Nervous about being alone with Alec. Nervous about this conversation.

Our ride to the top floor is spent in painful silence.

When the doors open again and Alec exits, I follow, wiping my sweaty palms on the fabric of my dress as I tail him down the hallway. We finally slow and come to a stop in front of a corner apartment.

Alec pauses after he unlocks his apartment door, one hand on the doorknob, the other pressed against the wood. He lets out a long breath.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever brought here,” he says. And before I can process that, he opens the door.