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ADALYN

Well thank fuck for that.

I sighed and threw my head back, letting the warm breeze wash over me. By now it was early evening, and the setting sun had begun to cool the blazing Nevada air. Off in the distance was the familiar chatter of Friday night crowds gathering on the infamous Las Vegas strip. The excitement was contagious, and I was more than a little excited to throw away the stresses of my day at Pretty Penny Loans and join in.

Tonight, my friends and I were going out on the town to celebrate Bonnie’s birthday. Through a connection, she had managed to get us into one of the most exclusive nightclubs in town—The Venetian Prince. The waiting list alone was over three months long, with private booths costing well into the thousands each. Bonnie, the bloody brilliant Bonnie, had not only managed to get us into this fortress of a club, but had also landed us a booth with VIP passes. We were practically guaranteed to be rubbing shoulders with the social elite and maybe even a few celebrities…if we were lucky.

I cannot wait!

I pulled out my phone and read through my texts from Bonnie and another friend, April, as I made my way to my car to the rear of the building. Pretty Penny Loans was one of my family’s many businesses and where I unfortunately worked Monday through Friday as part of my ‘identity’.

Let me explain what I mean by that exactly…

My name is Adalyn Mannino, but I go by Adalyn Parker these days. My family is one of the wealthiest in the continental US with an assortment of bars, restaurants, casinos and loan companies to its name, as well as a great deal more… illegitimate business ventures, too. My father is none other than Alberto Mannino, or as he is better known, Don Mannino . He is the head of our rather large family and has a reputation for ruthlessness. No one in our family so much as breathes without his say so. And while it was true I was his only child, it was rare that details of the family business were ever shared with me. My primary purpose was to be amiable and look pretty as my Mamma had once insisted. But from the little I did know… I knew that we weren’t nice people.

My new identity came about after one of my family’s many ‘deals’ went horribly wrong seven years ago. Forcing us out from our beautiful white mansion in Las Vegas and into the dregs of upper middle-class suburbia, where we were bestowed the name ‘Parker’.

Thus, ‘Adalyn Parker’ was born.

A twenty-five-year-old ex-cheerleader who works full-time as a receptionist in Las Vegas and still lives with her insufferable parents. Yawn.

For the most part, I was pretty committed to my new ‘normal’ identity, even going so far as having my raven hair dyed shit-bright blonde once every other week. Gone were my expensive designer clothes, Tiffany necklaces and ah…my beautiful Chanel handbags. It was thoroughly depressing, and my patience was wearing thin after all these years… Which is exactly why I was going out partying tomorrow night. Zero fucks given.

I approached my car and buckled myself in, fiddling with the control panel until my music started blaring obnoxiously through the speakers. My car was perhaps the only indication left of my former life and was definitely not the kind of car a receptionist earning minimum wage would be able to drive: a custom black-out Dodge Challenger Hellcat complete with extra wide fenders and red calipers.

Hands down, it was the love of my life.

I screeched out of the lot and made my way onto the I-eleven to Boulder City, which was a little over half an hour away from my work. I took a call from April on the way and confirmed our plans for tonight, before pulling into the driveway.

Our house was halfway up the hillside on the outskirts of town and was easily the nicest on our street. What with its light grey walls and large ornate windows, the house was deceptively upper middle-class. The average onlooker couldn’t detect the multitude of security cameras, the high-tech fingerprint recognition panel by the front gate, or the extra thick bulletproof windows. Nor could they know that the neighbouring house was also owned by my father and housed at least ten Mafiosos at any given time.

That was the beauty of it.

I killed the engine and made my way inside. As I entered, I could hear my father on a conference call in his study while my mother lounged on the sofa shopping on her laptop. It was just like any other typical day in the ‘Parker’ family.

“Hi, Mamma.” I called out.

“Hello,” she greeted absentmindedly, her long dark hair pulled into an immaculately messy bun at the top of her head.

“How was work?” I asked, heading toward the kitchen to get a drink.

“Average.”

Part of our ‘Parker family’ rouse was that my mother owned and managed a designer boutique in town. Not only was it used to justify the fabulous middle-class life we had, but it also helped keep her from getting too bored. My father was never around during the day, either constantly locked away in his study or traveling somewhere for meetings. There was a lot of time to kill in the ‘Parker’ family.

“That’s good,” I said mutedly, grabbing a coke from the kitchen.

“Hm.”

With that riveting conversation over with, I headed up to my room to plan my outfit for the evening in the lull before dinner.

I spent the next hour or so trashing my room and trying on various dresses and outfit combinations. I finally settled on a midnight satin slip dress paired with a well-loved pair of black stilettos. Satisfied with my choice, I put away my discarded clothes and headed downstairs for dinner.

Our housemaid, Mabel, was serving some spaghetti by the time I took a seat at the table. I was the first to arrive, but my mother followed soon after with her laptop still in hand. We ate in silence until my father arrived, taking his usual seat at the head.

My father, even to me, was an imposing man with a short stocky build. His greying black hair was always perfectly slicked back into his preferred style, and he rarely wore anything other than a designer suit.

“How are my ladies doing?” he asked in his deep, gravelly voice before tucking into his food.

“Great, dear,” my mother responded bitterly, clicking away on the laptop still. She was long since past pretending to enjoy her family’s company.

“Adalyn, how was work?”

“It was fine.” I smiled and gulped down another mouthful of spaghetti.

He nodded and continued eating.

“Papa, I was thinking… Maybe I could work at one of our other businesses now that I have more experience. I was thinking maybe one of the casinos? Doing something less admin related maybe…” I looked over at my father who was still chewing his food.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he dismissed. “Instead of working, your efforts should be focused on learning how to keep your own home and how to cook.”

“It is a blight on this family to be as unskilled as you are,” my mother remarked sharply. “It has certainly done you no favours in attracting a husband so far.” Her piercing gaze settled on me with a dissatisfied grimace.

My father waved his hand absentmindedly, “We will have Mabel teach her the basics.”

“And if that doesn’t work? What husband would want her then?” my mother sneered at him. “Perhaps we send her to a proper cooking school. I told you giving her that job was a waste of her time.”

It wasn’t within my power to protest, so I tuned their bickering out as I continued eating instead. Any hope I’d had of attaining a proper career had long since been snuffed out.

It wasn’t my place to want control over my life. I was a woman… and women in the Cosa Nostra had no power. We were meant to be docile, submissive characters performing in a drama of violence directed by men. Nothing more. And while the rest of civilization had inevitably marched on with the times, our little corner of society had remained stagnant in the name of tradition.

My father’s phone began to ring and after looking at the caller ID, he picked up his plate and answered, marching off to his study. I gritted my teeth in quiet frustration.

“Stop frowning, Adalyn. You look ugly.” Mother muttered, taking a gulp of her wine.

“Thank you, Mamma.” I sneered.

“Right, I’m off,” She suddenly jumped up and slammed her laptop lid down.

“Going anywhere interesting?”

“There’s a new bar in town, so Sally and I are going.” She stalked off to the hallway to grab her handbag, heels clicking on the marble floor. “Goodbye!” she called before leaving.

My mother has always been about as motherly as a block of ice.

I quickly finished my food alone and went back upstairs to wait for April to arrive.

Thankfully, she arrived only half an hour later, armed with more than half of her closet in order to get ready for the evening.

April and I became instant best friends back in high school, what with her fast quips and devil-may-care attitude. She was stunningly beautiful with bright green eyes and a tall willowy frame, my absolute opposite in every way.

“I cannot believe it! How the fuck did Bonnie get us into The Venetian Prince?” she gushed while dumping her stuff in my room.

“I know, she’s a gem. She had to sleep with that guy Brad, though, to get us in.” I took a seat at my dresser and began priming my face.

“Brad, the bartender guy? Wow.” She took a seat on the floor and got out her makeup bag.

“I know, I think they are dating now though, so it worked out for the best.” We chuckled at the unlikely love story.

“Let’s hope to God he has some hot-ass friends then,” April cheered.

We spent the next couple of hours getting glammed up, dancing to shamelessly loud music and sinking a few pre-drinks. April had selected a short emerald dress, while I’d slipped on the thin satin number I’d chosen earlier. I threw on my shoes, grabbed a golden clutch bag and declared myself decent.

We walked arm in arm to the car waiting for us in the driveway. To April’s unassuming eyes, it would have seemed like a normal rented chauffeur car, but in reality, it was one of our security cars complete with tinted ballistic windows. She didn’t even take note of the gun tucked into the driver’s waistband as we sang horribly along to the music. People outside of the Cosa Nostra rarely did look too closely in my experience. They were always more trusting.

Not tonight! I stopped that train of thought and brought myself back to April’s bad singing.

A short while later, the car pulled onto the infamous Las Vegas strip and to our only destination for the night: The Venetian Prince.

When we arrived at the colossal new building, we were greeted with crowds of hopefuls waiting in line at its entrance. Desperation hung thick in the air as we exited the car and walked through to the VIP section. We flashed the doorman our fancy laminated passes and within minutes were beckoned inside, much to the irritation of those still waiting in line.

The flashing lights and roaring music of the nightclub perforated our senses as we wandered through the entranceway to the heart of the club. An expansive dance floor dominated the club’s center, with wall-to-wall bartenders and seats surrounding the space. We were directed to our left and up a short flight of stairs, which led to a balcony overlooking it all. I saw no less than ten luxury black booths as we reached the top, each trimmed with gold filigree. We wandered over to the furthest of them after spotting some familiar faces amongst the crowd.

“Bonnie!” I shrieked as she came running out of the booth. “Happy birthday, beautiful!”

“Addie! April! This is fucking awesome right? Look at these booths!” She lounged over the side of our lavishly designated alcove.

“Come take a seat!” Brad, who was already sitting beside my friend, called out to us.

We slipped into the plush velvet booth and helped ourselves to the bottle of champagne on ice at its center.

“Girls, these are my friends Louie and Jack.” Brad gestured to the two men sat to his right.

The man I assumed was Louie was dressed in a fitted blue polo and was undoubtedly handsome, with ‘All-American captain of the football team’ vibes. Jack on the other hand looked a bit more rebellious with visible tattoos and a low-cut black top. Neither one was particularly my type though. Great.

Bonnie sat on the other side of Brad with her other two friends, who I had only met a handful of times. They were all engaged in an enthusiastic debate on what shots to order, while April was making quick work of getting to know Louie and Jack.

“Are you in college?” Jack shouted across to me.

“Uh, no. I work at a loan company.” I smiled, downing a mouthful of champagne. “What do you do?”

“I work in advertising.” He pushed out his chest proudly.

“Cool.”

“And you?” he asked, turning to April.

“I’m in retail,” April said cheerfully. “Pays like shit, but at least I get discounted clothes.” She shrugged and we giggled.

The idle chatter continued for several minutes as the men figured out their odds on leaving with us tonight.

I internally rolled my eyes as Jack made another play in my direction, and I shirked away from his hand as it came to rest against my leg under the table.

“I’m going to dance!” I declared, suddenly standing up and pulling April up along with me.

She shot me a knowing look as we walked the short distance down to the dance floor, weaving through a small break in the bodies packing the LED tiles. Hand in hand, we began swaying salaciously to the music.

One song morphed into another, and I found myself lost amongst the heavy bass and thuds of the track as it bled from the speakers. After a few more songs had ebbed away, Louie decided to join us with a goofy smile on his face. It was clear that he was trying to put the moves on April, and she was only too eager to accept the attention. Deciding I didn’t want to become the third wheel to a tongue bath, I stepped away after a few moments and went over to one of the bars lining the room.

The place was jammed, and my five feet one inch didn’t stand a chance of getting the bartender’s attention, even with my VIP badge. After about ten minutes of trying and failing to get a drink, I turned back to the dance floor watching the gyrating bodies and pulsing strobes overhead .

“Excuse me, Ma’am?” A polite female voice broke me from my reverie.

It was one of the bartenders.

“This is for you.” She placed a large cocktail in front of me on the bar.

“Um… I didn’t order this,” I admitted, looking at the drink.

It wasn’t just any drink. It was a coconut lime spritzer—my favorite drink.

“It’s from the gentleman over there.” She nodded to her right, but I couldn’t see anyone I recognized in that general area.

“Which gentleman? And this isn’t spiked, is it?” I looked at the glass quizzically.

She snorted and looked in the direction she had nodded trying to locate the man.

“He was over there but now I don’t see him...” She shook her head, giving up. “And no, the drink isn’t spiked, I just made it.”

“Well thanks, I appreciate it.” She nodded and left, turning to serve the man next to me.

I picked up my cocktail and elbowed my way back to April and Louie, who were still dancing…or rather groping each other.

“Did either of you order this for me?” I shouted at them over the music. They both shook their heads ‘no’.

I frowned.

“Someone else you know must be here; isn’t that your favorite?” April shouted back over the music.

I looked around the room thinking perhaps one of my security guards had decided to enter the club despite my specific instructions to stay out, but to my confusion, I didn’t see any of the familiar hulking men. Deciding it was probably a fluke, I gulped down my cocktail and started dancing alongside April. Louie looked just about ready to piss himself with the attention of two females on him, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous face as we enjoyed the music.

At some point a while later, we decided to head back to the balcony, and as we reached it, I felt my phone start buzzing in my clutch.

I fished it out and glanced at it as I continued up the stairs: ‘No Caller ID’.

I didn’t bother answering, stowing the phone away again as I re-joined the group. They had begun playing a risqué game of truth or dare, and I motioned to join in.

I sighed when my purse began buzzing again, but I ignored it… until I couldn’t anymore. Whoever was calling me was doing it constantly .

Irritated, I pulled my phone back out and slammed my finger against the green button.

“Hello?”

I couldn’t hear much over the thudding of the speakers, but I knew whoever was on the other side wasn’t speaking. Bored with whoever was spamming my phone, I hung up and took another sip of my cocktail.

Within two seconds, the screen lit up again with ‘No Caller ID’.

Right—now I’m annoyed.

“Someone is trying to call me. I’ll be right back,” I shouted to April, who nodded and waved as I left.

I quickly headed back down to the main floor, and followed the signs to the smoking area located at the back of the club. By the time I pushed open the door and stepped out into the cool evening air, my phone had logged eight new missed calls. I ground my teeth in frustration and headed away from the thundering music.

“Who is this?” I demanded as the buzzing began again.

Instead of getting a response the line immediately went dead.

What the hell?

I stared at the blank screen stupidly, expecting them to call back.

They didn’t. The phone remained silent.

“Unbelievable. I bet it’s that damn security team…” I started mumbling.

I turned to head back toward the door, but the moment I did my body slammed against something hard, and I immediately felt hands pinning my arms harshly to my sides.

I opened my mouth to scream…

But the world had turned utterly and completely black.

The next thing I knew, my head was throbbing like hell and my mouth was as dry as sandpaper. I squeezed my eyes closed tightly, trying to block out the blinding sunlight, desperate to fall back asleep. I was exhausted and my body ached like I’d been laying awkwardly for?—

Wait, sunlight?

My last memory was walking into the smoking area at The Venetian Prince.

I lurched forward with a start.

It took me a solid minute to realize that I wasn’t at the club anymore, my mind struggling to keep up. I was, in fact, in a quiet room, on an enormous emperor sized bed… in a place completely unfamiliar to me.

The walls were painted a muted deep grey, interposed with chaotic abstract canvases. It held little in the way of furniture besides a modern leather chaise Léon and an eighty-inch flat screen facing the bed. It was cold and masculine...and unnerving.

Where the hell am I?

I threw myself out of the ridiculous bed, but my body was much less obliging than usual, and I ended up in a heap on the floor. My satin dress tore from the sudden movement.

“Ow! For Christ’s sake!” I muttered in outrage.

“You’re awake then.”

I jumped at the sound of a deep, unfamiliar voice.

Apparently, the room wasn’t as empty as I had thought.

Footsteps quickly rounded from the other side of the bed, revealing a six-foot-six man that resembled a dark-haired Adonis. He was immaculately dressed in a black suit, and his hair was pulled back into a bun with expertly shaved sides. He was beautiful…and a complete stranger. Who in the actual fu ? —

“ My name is Jesse,” He greeted, flashing me a handsome smile.

I immediately tried to heave myself up off the floor in a vague attempt at preserving my dignity, but my throbbing head made black spots dance in front of my eyes with each movement.

“Let me help you up, Adalyn.” The man—Jesse—lifted me effortlessly from the floor and placed me in the center of the bed.

“H-how do you know my name? Wh-who are you?” I stammered.

He folded himself onto the nearby seat as he answered, “Lots of people know your name…and I already told you, my name is Jesse.”

“Well… Jesse , can you tell me where I am?” I asked, letting an edge of frustration seep into my tone.

“Ah, I can’t tell you that. That’s better off coming from the Boss.” He answered, unaffected.

“Boss? What boss?”

He immediately jumped up with his hands raised in the air as if he were speaking to a wild animal.

“Nope! I am not answering that question.”

With surprising grace, the man wandered over to a sideboard and opened it, revealing a mini fridge packed with an assortment of drinks. He pulled out a water bottle, grabbed something from a nearby drawer and handed it to me.

“For your head.” He said after I didn’t take the box he offered. “You probably feel like crap. You’ve been sleeping for over twenty-four hours.”

I gaped at him in shock. Twenty-four hours? Who the hell are these people?

“Drink up. Over there, you will find a walk-in closet. Everything in there is yours. The other door is to the bathroom.” He gestured to the doors on the opposite side of the room, but my brain was stuck on the word ‘yours’.

“I’ll come get you in thirty. You look like shit, so probably a good idea to take a shower before you meet the Boss.”

I audibly gulped, and he laughed at my anxiety.

“Oh, don’t worry Adalyn. I’m your assigned bodyguard now, so I’ll protect you.” He winked and exited the room, locking it behind him.

As soon as the room stilled back into silence, questions raced across my groggy brain like a flame dancing on gasoline.

Boss? The club’s boss? What the hell did he mean by bodyguard? And who in the hell are these people? I threw myself back onto the bed and growled in frustration, finding absolutely no answers.

I took the pills Adonis—I mean Jesse —had passed me, and after about ten minutes, my groggy head felt considerably better.

I made my way out of bed and slowly meandered into the bathroom on unsteady feet. It was bigger and grander than any bathroom I had ever been in before; simple yet ornate in design. An oval bath stood at the room’s center before an illuminated panel of pure white marble. It was stunning.

One look in the mirror over the vanity and I almost died of embarrassment. The man had been right—I looked like complete and utter shit. My blonde hair was matted to the sides of my head and my makeup would have given the Joker a run for his money.

I quickly did my business and then stripped off my clothes, jumping into the spacious shower. With each minute under the hot steam the unease in my stomach grew.

Once I was finished, I dressed myself in a towel and headed to the closet next door in search of clothes. Clearly, my ripped dress was less than ideal, given I had no idea who I was supposed to be meeting imminently and didn’t know where the hell I was.

I all but drooled on the floor when my feet hit the plush carpet.

The room was fitted with floor to ceiling cupboards stocked with racks upon racks of designer clothes, shoes, handbags and everything in between. Chanel, Gucci, Alaia… I spotted all my favorites amongst the colorful rails. A matching white dresser sat beside a comfy round pouffe, and I stumbled to it. Overcome with curiosity, I carefully pried open one of the drawers and swallowed back a gulp as my eyes settled on a beautiful array of glittering jewelry.

What is all this?

Frustration washed over me—I hated being so clueless.

Realizing I had taken my sweet time in exploring the room, I pulled out a pair of black leggings and a white Balmain graphic tee. After spotting the heavy bags under my eyes, I applied a quick layer of powder foundation I found, scooped my wet hair back into a ponytail, and called it good. Whoever the ‘boss’ was, he wasn’t going to care about my appearance anyway.

I walked out of the dressing room to find a bored looking Jesse leaning against the other, now open, door across the room. He looked me over and grinned before gesturing, for me to lead the way out of the room.

After a few minutes of walking, I realized that the place we were in was in fact a house. A very large house.

Well, I’m definitely not in the club anymore . I gulped as cool tendrils of fear curled in my stomach.

We walked through a warren of tunnels before emerging on a large balcony overlooking an entrance hall. A perfectly polished imperial staircase connected the curved balcony to the room below. It was beautiful…and far too ostentatious to be in someone’s home.

Jesse led the way as we descended and passed through various hallways, eventually stopping at a closed door. He knocked quickly before opening it and motioned for me to enter.

I gingerly stepped inside and was greeted with a large study, lined with bespoke walnut units and a matching polished desk. The room was somewhat similar to the bedroom I had woken up in and painted with a similar shade of muted grey.

All of this, however, was far less eye-catching than the young man sitting behind the desk and gazing at me with indifferent black eyes.

This man exuded nothing but power and wealth to an intimidating degree. From the stubborn set of his lightly stubbled jaw to his perfectly proportioned nose and the arrogant glint in his dark eyes, the man reeked of it. His crisp Armani suit and the gold Rolex on his wrist set my teeth on edge and senses on high alert. My earlier fear unfurled itself from my stomach and slivered down my spine at the sight.

The unfamiliar man’s eyes dropped, scrutinizing my appearance, and I immediately regretted the casual clothes and wet hair I was sporting.

“Adalyn Mannino. It’s nice to finally meet you.”