Sold by Clarissa Wild

Marcello

I’ve never staredat anyone in particular with anything more than mild interest.

Until this girl.

With her marvelous green eyes and long, blond hair, this simple waitress captures my attention and refuses to let go.

The moment our eyes connect it feels like there is a world of opportunities just waiting to be grasped. The way she stands there, clutching her tray while staring me down as much as I do her.

She simply takes my breath away.

She swallows, goose bumps erupting on her skin.

And I can’t help but wonder what goes on in her mind.

If she thinks about all the ways I could make her blush just by looking at her with these eyes … just licking her with this filthy mouth of mine.

Right now, I want nothing more than to know her name.

Then she blinks, and the moment passes as she looks away and scurries off, handing new drinks to other customers.

My eyes narrow as I watch her laugh and smile at them, jealousy stinging at my heart.

I don’t want this girl to wait on anyone else but me.

But I shouldn’t let my desires get ahead of me.

After all, I’m here for business.

And that business better hurry the fuck up before I lose my temper.

Harper

Not in a million years has a guy ever looked at me like that.

Nor have I ever been so stunned by the sheer power exuded from his eyes.

Or the amount of lust emanating from deep within my body.

Fuck.

Who was that man?

And why was he carrying around a weapon?

I close my eyes and take a breather for a second.

It’s not every day you get this close to dancing with the devil.

But all I see in front of me, even with my eyes fully shut, is him and all the the danger he entails. Those strong hands, that dirty, smug grin, and those dark eyes bore straight into my soul.

I shake my head, but I still can’t get him out of my mind. Just the look he gave me brings goose bumps to my skin when I think of it.

But I can’t let myself get carried away here. I have a job to do, and that job is to find out more about them without getting caught.

As I wait on more tables, serving snacks and drinks to almost every patron in the club, I sneak glances at him, but the brooding one doesn’t move an inch.

After hours of waiting, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man doing anything interesting, I go on my break and walk back to the locker rooms. I sit down and sigh in annoyance. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. Following dangerous criminal-looking men into the dark of the night; there’s nothing scarier.

I should let someone know what I’m doing in case things go really bad. I grab my phone and call my adoptive mother, Andrea. “Hey,” I say when she picks up. “It’s me.”

“Oh, Harper! So nice of you to call. It’s late, though, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Wait, you’re usually asleep now, aren’t you? Did I wake you?”

“Oh, no, no heavens no.” She giggles. “I was playing Scrabble online with some friends.”

“Scrabble? You really have to ease up on that social life of yours,” I joke.

“Of course you’d say that. You’re out and about every night you can,” she teases. “Anyway, why’d you call, sweetheart?”

“Oh, um …” I pause. I don’t know what to tell her, and I don’t want her to worry about me. “I’m at a club. Missed you, thought I’d check in.”

“A club? Really?” she says. “That’s unlike you.”

“A new job,” I lie.

I never lie to her. Why am I so afraid to tell the truth?

“A job? This late? Why? Aren’t you happy with your current one?”

“Of course I am, but I … wanted to earn something extra.” I shift on the bench to a more comfortable position.

“That doesn’t sound like you, either,” she says. “You’re not going out and doing something dangerous again, are you?”

“What? I never—”

“Don’t give me that nonsense,” she interjects. “I know you’re obsessed with finding out more about that night.”

Of course, she’d see straight through me. “You know it’s important to me.”

“Sweetheart, I know your parents’ death was hard on you, and it’s okay to be upset. But you’ve got to stop. You’re losing yourself in this search for answers.”

“I’m close, Andrea. I just know it.”

“You say that every time, yet—”

“No, this time is different,” I interrupt. “There’s a man here that my PI found. He’s connected to the fire.”

She makes a tsk sound. “You know those detectives are only trying to get more money out of you. The police investigated it years ago, you know that. It was an accident.”

“No,” I reply, trying to keep my cool. “Someone dragged me out that night. I already told you that.”

“It could have been a dream while you were out,” she tries to explain. “Besides, you were so young. Maybe you just can’t remember it right.”

“Andrea, I’m sure. Please believe me,” I plead, desperate for her to believe me. “Someone murdered them.”

“Why? Why would anyone want to kill your parents, Harper? What motive could they have?” Her tone makes it clear she’s indulging me, but I continue the conversation.

“I don’t know. What if my parents were involved in … underbelly stuff? Like trying to get junkies off the street and into rehab? And what if the people selling those drugs didn’t want them to do that because it hurt their business?”

“Harper.” She sighs out loud. “You know that sounds ridiculous, right?”

“I’ve seen the information the PI gave me, Andrea. Some shady men are involved, and I have to find out more. I just have to.”

“Harper, please don’t do this.”

I bite my lip. “I can’t. I won’t stop. But I promise you, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I always do,” she says.

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I can’t give this up. You have to understand.”

She sighs. “Okay. You know I love you, right?”

I smile, even though it’s a bitter one, because I know she’s disappointed. “I love you too.”

Then I hang up the phone and stare at the screen for a few seconds, wondering how I can ever convince her of what I saw that night … or if it truly was all my imagination.

Marcello

I’m seconds away from losing the last bit of my fucking patience.

Just then Odhran appears from the back of the club and heads in my direction. Fear tightens his features as he begins, “Mr. Dellucci–”

Tilting my head, I meet his eyes, promising a world of pain. “If the next words out of your mouth are anything but ‘the Duffy brothers are ready to see you,’ then I’m going to lose my temper, and we both know you don’t want that to happen.”

Odhran swallows hard, sweat beading on his forehead, despite the frigid A/C blasting from vents in every corner of the room.

“Mr. Dellucci,” he says again, “my employers are almost done dealing with the unforeseen problem. They just need another ten min—”

Climbing to my feet, I knock the tumbler from the table, and as it shatters at our feet, my arm darts out, and I grab the front of the trembling man’s shirt. “Do you know who the fuck I am?”

He nods quickly, his breaths speeding up.

“Then you know what I’m capable of.”

“Y-Yes, Mr. Dellucci,” he says, his voice soaked with fear.

I bare my teeth. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, I know what you’re capable of.”

“Good. Then you know the respect I am owed.”

He nods quickly.

“Tell Patrick and Finnegan to get their asses out here now, or there will be hell to pay.”

Odhran nods again, and when I release him, he collapses into a puddle on the ground.

“You heard him!” Ricardo bellows as he joins us. He shoves a booted toe into Odhran’s ribs. “Go get those fucking Duffys!”

Odhran scurries away, whips around the bar, and disappears to the back of the club.

I sit down again, and adjusting my cuffs, I try to rein in my temper before I start killing people.

“Something has them spooked,” Claudio murmurs. “Either that or they’re scheming. Neither is good.”

Letting out a chuckle, I say, “Then there will be a bloodbath tonight. They have five minutes.” Turning my attention to the rest of my men seated at the table, I say, “Be ready for anything.”

“Yes, boss,” they all reply in unison.

“I’m going to the restroom,” Claudio says. I watch as he gets up and heads toward a hallway.

A waitress brings a new glass with whiskey splashed over some ice, and as I take a sip, my eyes scan over all the patrons and staff, ready for the first sign of trouble.

Harper

I put away my phone and go back to serving drinks. I pick up a new tray from the countertop meant for table sixteen, but as I pass a few tables, I overhear a conversation in a back room that draws me closer.

I peek through the crack in the door. Two similar-looking men are having a whispered, anxious conversation in the back. Their accents sound Irish, and one of them has an ugly scar on his neck.

I lean in and turn my ear toward the door, hoping to catch something that might be important.

“This is a bad idea,” one of them says.

“Calm down,” the one with the scar says, clutching the guy’s shoulders. “Get ahold of yourself.”

“You know the Italians are not gonna like this. He’s an angry bastard.”

“Igor said stall. So we stall. Do you wanna fuck with him?” the scarred guy answers.

“I don’t wanna fuck with either of them. Italians, Russians… they’re both fucking terrifying,” the other guy says in a hushed tone.

“We won’t,” the scarred man replies. “We just do what Igor told us to do, and neither of us will end up wearing concrete shoes in the river. Fuck the Italians. I’m trying to save my own ass here.”

Igor? Who is Igor?

The other guy shudders. “I don’t like this. I don’t like any of this one fucking bit.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” someone hisses into my ear, and my body jolts from the shock. It’s the scary-looking guy who hired me, and he has his hand on my shoulder. “Get away from there.”

He pulls me away from the door and spins me around, forcing me to look at his ugly face. “You need to mind your own damn business,” he growls, pushing me toward the tables. “Go do what you’re paid for. Customers are waiting to be served.”

I don’t reply, as it’ll only add more fuel to the fire. I was obviously not supposed to hear that conversation or be anywhere near those guys. Whatever it is they were talking about must be important.

Russians? Italians? They have to be mobsters, for sure, which means I’m close because the document the PI gave me specifically stated mobsters were involved. I have to keep an eye out for those Irish guys.

With my tray, I walk over to table sixteen, only to realize it’s that customer I’ve been avoiding all night. He’s a rowdy, drunk guy, touching all the girls like he owns them, even the waitresses. The mere thought of getting close makes me nauseous, but I don’t think I have a choice in the matter. The grumpy guy who hired me is still glaring at me, his eyes practically boring their way through my back.

Swallowing back my nerves, I move to the drunkard’s table and quickly put down his drink. But right as I turn to make a swift retreat, he grabs my wrist and says, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m busy,” I lie, but his hand remains firmly clenched around my wrist.

“Aw, c’mon, I want to get to know you a little bit,” the guy says as he drags me toward him. “You’re beautiful, girl. What’s your name?”

“Get your hands off me,” I snarl, throwing him a dirty look as I try to jerk free.

“You think you don’t want it, but you do. And I’ve got a lot of love to give,” he says with a drunken laugh. “Sit on my lap. I need some company.”

When his free hand slides down to my waist, I swing the tray right at his face. “Fuck off!”

WHACK!

He slumps onto the couch, one hand on his dick as a red mark that will surely leave a bruise grows on his face. Perhaps he’ll stop harassing the other girls too now. I just hope no one will notice him lying here because if my boss finds out, he’ll surely throw me out. However, when I look up, he isn’t the one watching me.

It’s the one from the PI’s document. The one with the coal-black eyes and dark, slicked-back hair. There’s a devilish smirk on his face as he looks me straight in the eyes.

And the way he’s looking at me—as though he enjoyed the show and would like to see more—makes all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

There’s something about him. Something viciously dominating. As though he can make anyone bend to his will with a mere flick of the finger. Even me.

And I can’t fucking stop staring right back at him.

Shit.

I swiftly break the connection and run off into the nearest VIP booth. I close the door … hoping he won’t come and find me here.