MONIQUE
Ten years later
It felt good to be back out in the city that never sleeps—New York, a city that had swallowed me whole and, in return, spat me out stronger.
I watched my childhood and innocence engulfed in flames just shy of a decade ago. The first few years of my life after the tragedy were like getting dragged through razor wire... nearly impossible even, especially in a world I now called mine. I could have been assassinated along with my parents that night, but I managed to maneuver the part where I was the victim and slip out of the tragedy of being the timid kid orphaned by bullets. I had to burn those memories of being bullied as a teenager, and you know what else I did? I became well-acquainted with the dangers that my family attracted, those dangers that lurked due to power and position.
I drove myself to 'The Dark Pulse' nightclub. It was one of the newer clubs in town, and its reputation was spoken about by people who knew it. It was not just an advertised spectacle to get people to visit.
I wasn't there for business tonight like my godfather would have wanted. I just wanted a few drinks to get a feel for the place and see if it lived up to its growing reputation. The place was a hotspot for powerful figures, especially those with ties to the underground, or so I heard. My godfather would have loved it here.
But tonight, I was observing for me. Not The Don.
I parked my car and stepped out, the cool New York air hitting me like a familiar wave. The night felt alive, the city's pulse reflected in the club's flashing lights, making it impossible to forget where you were. My stilettos clicked against the pavement as I made my way toward the entrance, the thrum of the music growing louder with each step. I straightened my blazer and lifted my aviators higher on my nose. It had been a few years since I was last out in public like this, and I needed to savor the feeling.
Inside, the dim lighting punctuated the flashes of neon and cast fleeting shadows on the walls, making everyone and everything look slightly distorted, almost dangerous.
I made my way to the bar, scanning the crowd as I did. The place was packed with the usual mix of partygoers and those lurking on the edges, people-watching and making deals in the dark corners.
I ordered a drink, something strong, and leaned against the bar, letting the atmosphere wash over me. The bass vibrated through the floor, and the air was thick with the smell of alcohol, male cologne mixed with female perfume, cigarette smoke, and something more primal. I enjoyed it in a way.
I sipped my drink slowly, my eyes following the exotic bartender as he skillfully crafted cocktails, effortlessly entertaining the small crowd gathered around the bar.
At the other end of the long bar, there was a man watching me. A brief glance to the side confirmed his watchful gaze. He was tall, with a brooding intensity about him.
He held a glass of scotch in one hand, with a cigar stick between his fingers. Every stitch of his tailored attire roared 'high society,' but it was his commanding presence that truly announced his aristocracy. He was definitely important. One of his companions was saying something to him, but he didn't seem to be listening.
Even though I couldn't see his face properly due to the dark club lighting, I could feel his eyes flick over me, sizing me up. not the kind of stare that demanded attention, but the kind that took its time, calculated. I ignored him at first, sipping my drink and keeping my posture relaxed. But every now and then, I caught myself glancing back at him.
He didn't approach right away, which I appreciated. It gave me time to observe him, too. His sharp features were partially hidden in the shadows, but what I could see hinted at a man who wasn't here for the usual thrill. He looked like one of the powerful figures that would usually come here for business.
There was a danger in him, but not the reckless kind. It was measured and controlled.
Finally, after what felt like a silent game of back-and-forth, he made his move. He flicked his wrist to gesture to his companions away, pushed away from the bar, and strode toward me with deliberate steps, stopping just close enough that I could feel his presence without it being overbearing.
"You've been watching me," he said, his voice low, almost challenging.
I tilted my head, a slight smile playing on my lips. "You've been watching me too."
A flicker of amusement passed over his face. "Fair enough."
He leaned on the bar beside me, close but not too close. There was a tension between us, something unspoken that buzzed in the air. He looked down at my nearly empty drink glass and signaled the bartender to get me a new drink.
I accepted the glass and took a sip from the colorful cocktail. I could still feel his eyes lingering on me for a moment before he spoke.
"Not many people come here alone," he said, his voice low and smooth. "You must like your own company."
I glanced up from my glass, meeting his gaze with a smirk. "I find it's less complicated that way."
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Complications can be interesting... if you know how to handle them."
I leaned back on the stool, taking him in the way his confidence felt natural, unforced. "And I suppose you're an expert on handling... complications?"
His lips curled into a slow smile. "You could say that. I prefer a challenge."
"Is that what this is?" I asked, tilting my head slightly as I mustered a teasing edge in my voice. "A challenge?"
He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "It is now."
There was a current between us, something sharp and unspoken. It may have been the slow buzz of the alcohol, but I welcomed it. His hand brushed against mine, subtle but intentional.
"I've been watching you from the moment you approached the bar," he admitted. "You don't seem like the type to just blend in."
"And you don't seem like the type to miss much," I replied, trying to lower my voice to match his.
"Maybe I'm just selective." His gaze darkened with intent, and the space between us felt smaller, charged.
We both knew where this was headed. The flirtation was light on the surface but heavy with something deeper. No names were exchanged, and there was no need for introductions. We were strangers, but we were exactly what the other wanted at that moment.
"You know," he said, leaning in just enough for me to feel the heat of his breath, "we could continue this somewhere a little more... private."
I met his gaze, holding it for a beat before I nodded, a smile playing at the corner of my lips as I took a huge gulp of my cocktail. "Lead the way."
Without another word, he extended his hand. I took it, letting him guide me away from the bar and out the back of the club. We left the crowd behind as we disappeared into the connecting building and into a sleek penthouse tucked behind the club. The air inside was crisp, and the space gleamed with modern elegance—pristine white walls offset by gray furniture that exuded luxury.
But I barely had a moment to take it all in. The instant the door closed behind us, there was no hesitation. Our bodies and lips collided with an urgency that left no room for second thoughts, losing ourselves in the heat of the moment as we reached the bedroom.
He was truly sexy, and he seemed to know his way around a woman's body.
Our throes of passion had been the best I'd had in a long time. But sometime before dawn, I jolted awake from a nightmare, heart racing, the ghostly images of my past still lingering behind my eyelids and in my mind. I glanced over at his still-sleeping form, relief flooding me when I realized I hadn't woken him. His steady breathing filled the room, a contrast to the chaos swirling in my mind.
Quietly, I slid out from under the covers, careful not to disturb him, and began to gather my things. What a failed attempt at what I really came for last night, but it was all worth it.
As I moved toward the window, something caught my attention—a sliver of sunlight, creeping through the curtains, slowly illuminated his face. For the first time since he approached me at the bar, I could see him clearly.
My breath hitched.
There was something eerily familiar about the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the way his brow furrowed slightly even in sleep. I didn't want to believe it—no, it couldn't be. It had been over a decade, and people changed. But no amount of time could erase that face, not when it had been etched into my memory so deeply.
A chill crept down my spine as I stood frozen, staring at this man who had charmed me into his bed. As the sunlight revealed more of his features, all I could think was, "What are the odds?"
A gnawing suspicion clawed at me, growing stronger with each passing second. I glanced at his clothes, discarded haphazardly on the floor, his jacket lying closest. My breath quickened as I crouched down and rummaged through the pockets, hands trembling slightly.
And then I found it—a sleek, black leather wallet. I flipped it open, heart pounding in my chest, and my gaze zeroed in on the small embossed card tucked neatly inside. There it was, printed in clean, precise letters: "L. Sterling."
My blood ran cold.
This was no coincidence. The man who had taken everything from me, the one who had orchestrated the murder of my parents, was lying right there—mere inches away from me. The same man I had sworn to find and destroy.
I stood up slowly, my mind reeling, the card clutched tightly in my hand. My fingers brushed over the letters as if somehow confirming what I already knew deep down. It was him. After all these years, I'd found him.
Killing him now would be too easy. I could reach for my pocket knife and slice his throat, but that would be too quick. He deserved worse. Much worse.
I dropped the wallet back into his jacket, taking one last look at his sleeping form before turning toward the door. The vengeance I had carried for a decade burned hot inside me, stronger than ever.
LIAMI shoved open the door, barely giving it a chance to swing back before I had her pinned against the wall. Her lips were on mine, zealous, hungry. I wasn’t one for chasing women—hell, I never wasted my time at the club hoping to find one worth my trouble. But tonight, I needed the distraction. And she was something else. Sharp-eyed, with a smile that promised chaos and a body made for sin. She hadn’t hesitated when I grabbed her hand and led her out of that noise. That’s how I knew she belonged here, in my penthouse, under my grip. My one hand anchored her to the wall, the other hand tangled in her hair. God—the way she moved, the biting edge of her brown eyes drinking in my space like she was impressed. She seemed to be looking for trouble, looking for someone like me. Dangerous. Sexy. This woman wasn’t my usual type—I didn’t like them so businesslike, and god, not the ones with so much hair I couldn’t wrap around easily. She moaned against my mouth as I pressed her harder aga
MONIQUEMy therapist once told me about the four stages of rage. Annoyance, frustration, hostility—and then fury. I didn't think I had felt the first three, not really. But that final stage? The white-hot, blinding intensity of fury? I felt it now, burning through me like a fire I couldn't control.I didn't cry when I watched my parents get murdered. I didn't cry at their funeral when they were lowered into the ground, the weight of grief suffocating me. But seeing the face of their killer? Discovering I had unknowingly spent the night with him, sharing an unforgettable, passionate encounter? That broke me in a way nothing else had.The tears came before I could stop them, hot and bitter. The anger surged inside me, unstoppable, until I was shaking with the force of it. I locked myself in my bedroom all morning, burying my face in the pillows, letting the rage consume me until I had nothing left but exhaustion.But I couldn't stay in that place. Not now. Not with so much at stake.A s
LIAMThe casino's entrance was a statement of luxury. As I stepped through the doors, the sound of slot machines and the low hum of conversation surrounded me. The air was filled with the scent of expensive cigars and the soft click of high heels on polished marble. The ladies couldn't hide their gawking--a usual occurrence I was already used to.I made my way toward the high-stakes room, my presence marked by the subtle shift in the atmosphere. Heads turned, and whispers followed in my wake. I offered courteous nods and firm handshakes here and there."Liam Sterling," a familiar voice called out. I turned to see David Torres, a seasoned distributor with a habit for theatrics. He extended his hand, which I took with a firm grip. "Good to see you. I hear you're quite the player tonight.""David. Always a pleasure."As I continued through the casino, I exchanged pleasantries with several other key figures. There was Carla Mendoza, a club owner with connections that stretched the whole o
LIAMAs soon as I left Felix, my irritation still pulsing beneath the surface, I gave him a clear directive: "Dig into this 'Queen of the West.' I want to know everything by morning."This day kept getting better and better, with more mysterious women throwing themselves in my path.This Queen of the West woman, whoever she was, sounded more like a joke and a waste of time, and I had a feeling the stunt she pulled back in the game room wouldn't be her last.I walked out of the casino, the glitzy lights doing nothing to calm the storm inside me. Once in the back of the car, I pulled out my phone and started making necessary calls. The night and my initial plans were already ruined. I needed to reshape my plans to gain new and bigger deals... more partnerships and expand my dealings far beyond the country. That was the aim when I first started to build my empire from the ground up.I decided to call the hotel contractor working on my newest hotel, which would open in a few weeks. The ma
MONIQUEIn my apartment, I leaned back against the plush cushions, thinking about the events of the day. Events that were so much more than all I'd done during my days in hiding put together. The weight of everything I'd set in motion hit me like unpacked luggage in my closet. Of course, it was overwhelming; I mean, I had only just found the man who took my family from me.Richardson was rummaging through my kitchen, maybe trying to fix us a drink. "How did they respond?" I asked as he joined me in the living room and handed me a cup of tea.He sank into the armchair across from me, his eyes steady. "The message landed just as expected. Most of them didn't know what to say. Liam, though... you saw him just before he left the casino. He had plenty on his mind, but he kept it bottled up. Didn't want to crack in front of everyone."A small smile tugged at my lips. "Good. That's what I wanted." I took a slow sip, feeling the tea's warmth seep through me. "Phase two, then." I tried to soft
LIAMThe moment I rounded the corner and saw her, my heart nearly stopped. It was...her. I had my men fucking combing the entire city for her without any luck. Of course, I wouldn't tell her how obsessed I'd been trying to track her down.But here she was, standing in my building, looking at me like she belonged.Jesus fucking Christ, she was more than I remembered—even more striking in the light of day, her presence pulling all the air from the room, just like she had done at the club the other night. I caught myself staring, my mind spinning at how the hell she ended up here, of all places. For a second, the shock must have shown on my face, but I quickly concealed it."You," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though I couldn't quite hide the flicker of surprise.Her smile was slow, almost teasing, a knowing curve of her lips that did something to my mind and body. I couldn't tell if I was irritated or intrigued by this foreign disturbance from such a sinfully gorgeous woman. M
MONIQUEThe moment his words sank in, I felt like my body and mind were two people in the middle of an argument. Shock coursed through me, cold and sharp, but there was this unsettling heat that simmered beneath my skin, unwanted and uninvited. My mind screamed at me to push him away, to break the tension and tell him how disrespectful he was being, but my body—traitorous as it was—responded to his intensity in ways I hated to admit.I clenched my fists to steady myself, forcing my breath to even out. I couldn't let him know the effect he had on me. Plus, what was I expecting? Coming in here and giving him a strip show. I had acted on impulse.Whatever happened to my intelligent strategies?"What's your name?" he asked, his voice softer now but still laced with that dark edge. He was too close, too intense, and every fiber of me felt like it was being drawn into his orbit.I hesitated, my mind racing. If I told him my real name, the last name that would ring a bell in the back of his
MONIQUEI wasn't one to use my body to get what I wanted, or in this sense, I would call it 'female privilege.' But I had started to figure out that I could get Liam wrapped around my finger if I agreed to play his little cat-and-mouse game. He already made it clear that he wanted to make me his "sex plaything." But how would I be that and still keep close tabs on his business affairs? I was handed the easy route on a platter of gold.We were in the middle of a meeting with the hotel contractor and licensor, the two men seated opposite Liam's massive desk while I stood by his side, ready to pass him any documents that required his signature. Liam was listening intently, his expression as sharp as ever, but I could feel his attention slipping—more toward me than the men sitting across from him. I could tell he was fighting it, trying hard to keep his focus on the business at hand, but every time I bent down or leaned closer to hand him a pen or paper, his eyes dipped lower, following th