Betraying Beauty (Sons of Lucifer MC): Vegas Titans Series (2 page)

Dominic kisses my temple, and I can feel his breath in my
hair. The soft sensation of it reaches to my toes and raises goose bumps all
over my body.

“Swans mate for life,” Dominic murmurs. “So do I.”

That’s it. I just can’t handle it. All this time I’ve known
him, I’ve been slightly terrified that I’m just a summer fling to him, knowing
a stud like Dominic must have girls lined up at home. And now, here he is,
telling me it’s more, telling me it’s real. Why now, at the end? I turn and
bury my face in his neck and burst into tears. Not even romantic, pretty tears.
It’s full-on ugly crying, my body wracking with sobs. I hear the faint sound of
beating wings in the background as my emotional outburst scares the swans away.
They probably head straight to South America, as far as they can get from me.
Fuck, I’d like to get away from myself. Dominic probably would too.       

“Whoa, hey,” says Dominic with a chuckle. He tilts my chin
so that I have to look up to him, and his expression is soft as he studies my
face. “I thought we weren’t going to be sad yet?” Though his voice is teasing,
his touch is soothing and patient. “But if you changed your mind, can I be sad
too? Would that make you feel better, beautiful?”

I sniffle, trying to get it together. How can I respond to
that question? The real answer is no. Nothing will make me feel better. I’ve
come alive this summer for the first time in my life, and now I have to go back
to a colorless, joyless world that never felt like home. I’ve never met anyone
like Dominic before and I know I never will again. It’s impossible. There’s no
one like him. I don’t know if I can go back to who I was before, but I also
don’t know if there’s a way around it. Beyond just camp ending and going back
to separate lives, there are so many obstacles between us. How do I explain to
him? How can I make him see?
I love you, but my family is literally insane
and wouldn’t ever understand. I don’t know how to escape them, or their plans
for me. I love you, but I don’t know what to do. I love you, but this is
probably goodbye forever.

I love you.
I’ve never even told him that. My heart
is in my mouth, and I can’t seem to put words together. My face twists and
crumples as I meet his eyes, trying. This might be my last chance to show him.
This might be the only chance.

“Shh,” he whispers. His hands brush scalding tears off my
cheek. “I know.” He kisses my forehead. “I know.”

He doesn’t know, but the kiss on my forehead galvanizes me.
Electric need jolts through me. I can’t seem to form words, but I can still
show him my feelings—I must.

“Dominic…” I wrap my body fiercely around his, latching my
legs around his hips and my arms around his neck. “Kiss me.”

The water supports me, floating, as I pull his face down to mine.
Our lips find each other like magnets, their touch a cataclysm searing through
my body like a flame. His lips are surprisingly soft and gentle, the stubble on
his chin rough, and I am lost in the texture of him, the dangerous edge and the
aching gentleness.

When his tongue pushes under mine I moan and clutch harder
onto his body, writhing. Our hips are locked, and the friction sends shocks of
heat spiraling down my legs. Suddenly I need to be closer to him. I know
rationally that I’m as close as possible, but it’s not enough. I press and
squeeze myself around him, feeling every nook and contour, wanting my breasts
to rub harder against his chest, wanting my hips to rub harder against his
hips. I can’t get close enough. There’s no such thing as close enough.

Now he’s the one moaning. His hands on my back are
trembling, and I suddenly know. I know he loves me too. He’s just as scared as
me. I make a decision, and reach behind me. Taking his hand, I guide it around
my waist, down under the water. I slip his hand under the seam of my sopping
wet t-shirt and guide it up to my bra.

Dominic gasps, his body freezing and going rigid in
surprise. “Harper,” he breathes, “Are you sure?”

We haven’t gone this far before. I’ve never gone that far in
my life—never anything besides a kiss, with anyone, and no one that mattered. And
I know it’s the last day, but I’ve never been more certain of anything in my
life. “Yes,” I whisper. “I’m sure.”

He swallows, nervous, and lets his fingertips land lightly
on the cup of my bra. Our eyes meet and it feels like a lightning strike.

“No,” I murmur. He immediately jerks his hand back, and I
laugh. “No, I mean, not on top. I want you to touch my skin. Touch me. Please, Dominic.”

I reach up to guide his hand again, this time pushing my bra
up out of the way until his fingers close over the sensitive flesh of my
breast. And now neither of us seems to be able to breathe.

“Oh god,” he says. “You feel amazing.”

I shiver against his touch, my body curling into him as his
hand kneads my flesh. I free my arms to rip off my shirt as quickly as I can,
giving him more room to move, more skin to touch.

“Oh, Dominic,” I murmur. My eyes close and I find his lips
again, kissing him slowly, letting the sense of touch take over. His skin, his
hands, my breasts, the lake. It’s growing hot between my legs, and without
thinking I grind my hips against the part of Dominic that’s hardening.
Yes.
Yes, it’s good. Yes, it’s what I want.

“God, Harper,” Dominic moans, “I love you, baby. I love you.”

“Harper!”

A chill of fear spikes down my spine. That voice…how is it
possible? My skin goes cold and I pull back from Dominic, frantically searching
the shoreline. Oh god, no. Please, no. And then my eyes confirm my ears.
There’s a young man in a crisp polo and khakis standing only a few yards away
on the water’s edge, looking like a Brooks Brother’s ad.

No, not now! It can’t be, not here, not like this…

“Shit,” I curse, grabbing for my shirt. My pulse is racing
again, this time in fear.

It’s Haden, my brother. He’s at least three hours early and
visibly pissed.

“Who the fuck are you?” Haden shouts at Dominic. “Get your
dirty hands off my sister!”

He takes a step toward the shoreline of the lake and kicks
off his shoes. Jesus, he’s going to come in after us. I sink to hide my body
below the surface of the lake, scrambling and splashing to dress myself again,
but my hands are shaking and I do a miserable job.

“Dominic, I’m so sorry, you should get out of here while you
have the chance,” is all I think to say. “You should go!”

Dominic frowns, firming his hold around my waist. “I’m not
going anywhere,” he says.

Fuck.

Haden is already wading into the water towards us, murder in
his eyes. There isn’t time to tell Dominic about the turtles and cats Haden
liked to torture as a kid and his subsequent diagnosis as an actual fucking sociopath—high
functioning, but still. And there’s the violent temper that got him expelled
from boarding school in Switzerland as a teen, and the aggravated assault
charges that caused our family to retain a top firm of lawyers just for him.

Not to mention that Haden buys into everything we’ve been
fed our entire life, the classism and the manifest destiny and bullshit about the
have’s and the have not’s. That he’s been oddly attached to me since we were
practically babies, and as much of a problem as he is, I know I need to be
there to take care of him.

There isn’t time to explain these things to Dominic, because
Haden’s only a couple yards away and closing in on us fast. I yank my t-shirt
back over my head. My bra is long-gone.

“Please, Dominic, go.”

But that handsome, square jaw clenches stubbornly as he
frowns at me. “Are you ashamed of me or something?”

“Of course not!”

That’s when I know that this is going to be horrible, that
there’s no easy way out.

“Get away from her you dirty son of a bitch!” Haden doesn’t
waste time. With this demand comes a flying fist that Dominic only barely
dodges.

“Hey what’s your problem man?” Dominic’s eyes darken. I’ve
never seen him angry before, and it makes my guts clench painfully. “I know you
caught us at an inopportune moment, but you have to chill! I happen to love
your sister.”

“You’re a fucking rapist,” Haden hisses. “How dare you touch
her!”

This time Haden’s fist makes impact. Dominic’s head bounces
from the punch, and he comes back snarling, shoving Haden hard. “Rapist?” Dominic
shouts. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Why else would she be with a beano like you?”

“Wow, a racist and an idiot.” Dominic’s clenches his jaw. “I’m
a beaner you don’t want to fuck with, bro,” he warns, cracking his knuckles.

Oh god. Now they’re both furious, fists flying and lake
water swirling like a storm, neither listening to my pleas for peace. I hope to
god those swans are safe somewhere far, far away.

“Haden, stop! I’m sorry, it’s my fault, not his! Stop,
Haden, please, let’s just go home! Please!”

He isn’t listening to me. “I’ll kill him!” Haden shouts.

I believe him.

Suddenly Haden has Dominic in a headlock and is plunging him
under the surface of the water, holding him down. Holding him down too long.

“Stop!” I scream. I’m frantically wrapping my arms around my
brother’s shoulders, tugging him fruitlessly. “Haden, don’t! Please, think of
mom and dad. Think of me. Think of trials. You hate trials. Don’t kill him.
Let’s go, please. I’ll go with you, I’ll get on the plane back home right now,
I promise, just don’t hurt him. Mom and Dad don’t want any more scandals,
right? Let go of him, and we’ll walk to the car together, okay? Please, Haden.
Let’s go. I’m sorry, ok?”

Dominic has gone still in the water. Maybe that’s why
Haden’s face clears and his grip loosens, letting me scoop Dominic up into my
arms. He’s limp and unconscious.

“Oh my god,” I groan. “Oh my god, Haden, help me get him to
shore. He has to wake up.”

I don’t even bother to hope that the serious nod of agreement
from Haden has anything to do with remorse or empathy. I know he’s only
thinking of what I told him to think of: himself, getting in trouble.
Nevertheless, the reasoning is enough to make him help me drag Dominic to
shore.

“Ok,” Haden says, “Wake him up, but then we’re going, and
you’re not speaking to him again unless you want me to finish what I started.
I’ll kill you too, if you disgrace our family like that again.”

My blood runs cold as I frantically work to clear Dominic’s
airway, remembering the basic first aid training I took at the start of camp. I
tilt Dominic’s nose back, open his mouth, and blow air into his lungs until his
chest rises and he starts to splutter and spit up water. Turning him quickly
over on his side, tears of relief stream down my cheeks. He coughs and shakes,
lakewater spilling out of his mouth. He’s breathing. Thank god.

“Alright,” Haden says. He grips my arm like an iron vice and
drags me over the sand of the shore. “Let’s go.”

“Wait!” I beg, squirming in his grip. “Let me say goodbye,
Haden! Please!”
            Haden slams me against a tree-trunk and slaps me across the face.
“Did you not hear what I just said? No sister of mine is whoring herself out to
some filthy proletariat. Jesus, Harper, he’s not even white. Have you lost your
mind? We’re going. Unless you want me to throw him back in the lake or worse,
you’re not to talk to him again. That is final.”

Stung, numb, and terrified, I nod blankly. He’s never hit me
before. He’s never threatened to kill anyone before. But his eyes and his
history warn me not to underestimate my brother. It’s like the time he warned
me that I was too old to play with dolls and I was becoming an embarrassment to
him. I had ignored him, only to come home to find my collection of favorites
mutilated, dismembered, and melted by a fire into a horrific heap on my
pillowcase. Everybody with brothers went through some persecution but this was
different. Dolls, people, everything is disposable to him. Haden can’t
distinguish, doesn’t care to tell the difference between the sanctity of human
life and everything else. He doesn’t actually know how.

Now Haden is dragging me away again, back into the forest,
to the path, towards the private jet, the gilded cage, and the life of duty and
obligation that is waiting for me. All I can do is look over my shoulder,
sobbing, for a last glance at Dominic, whose eyes are only starting to flutter
open as my brother drags me back into my empty, cold world.

A world without Dominic. A world without hope.

I love you, but this is goodbye. Forever.

Chapter Two

Harper

Nine Years Later…

Out the window, Bonneville Avenue is a dim orange maze with black
umbrellas and orange and red taillights drowning in the rain. It practically
never rains in Las Vegas, not even in November. But it’s raining today.

From my seventeenth office floor window, the wet street
looks like a little river running down at the bottom of a steep steel canyon.
Raindrops smatter across the blue-tinged glass, making the evening seem darker
than it really is. It’s my first moment of quiet all day, and while I should be
finishing up my summaries of tomorrow’s case briefs, instead I’m daydreaming.

My fingers have found their way to play with my necklace as
I stare down to the street, far below. All those people! Where are they going?

Where am I going?

There’s a soft knock on the door. “Yes,” I say absently, not
bothering to turn around. I hear the hinges creak a little and feel a presence
in the room.

“It’s seven-thirty.”

It’s Danny Hollis, our senior partner, my boyfriend. Well,
sort of. We’ve been on a break for a few days, made all the more awkward by the
fact that we work together and I’ve just been promoted: our offices are five
steps apart. We haven’t told anyone about our separation because he thinks it’s
silly and I’ll ‘come to my senses’ any moment. Our families are already looking
at stationary for wedding invitations, after all. It would be the merging of
Las Vegas royalty.

But I just don’t feel right about it, somehow. Can’t say
exactly why.

“Harper, we’d better get moving if we’re going to meet your
parents in time.”

Sighing, my chin drops lower toward my chest. “Do we have to
go? It feels like lying, keeping up appearances this way.”

Danny laughs. “Of course we do! You’re the woman of the hour—a
full equity Partner at Katz, Minkoff, Hollis and Combe LLP, a new corner
office. You have to let the people who care about you celebrate your successful
promotion, and successful engagement.”

Now I do turn, weary. “Danny, we’re not engaged. Stop saying
that, please. It makes me feel pressured to make a decision that I’m just not
ready to make.”

He gives me the smile that wins over hundreds of jurors and
steps to my side at the window, laying a hand softly on the small of my back.
“I’m a patient man, Harper, and I always get what I want. You’ll make the right
decision, I have no doubt.”

He kisses my cheek lightly.

I don’t say anything, because what’s the point? He’s so
confident, so certain, and that’s just not where I am. On paper, everything is
so perfect between us. When I broached the topic of taking some space to think
and he asked me what my hesitation is, I just didn’t have an answer. That’s why
he doesn’t take me seriously: not even I really know why I’m feeling lost and
confused.

As frustrated and annoyed as I am by his almost patronizing certainty
that I will “snap out of it”, I can’t help but admire his self-assurance.

“Grab your coat and your purse,” he says with a wry grin.
“You can’t be late to your own party.”

The limo car is waiting for us, even though the restaurant
is walking distance from the firm. It’s Danny’s favorite restaurant: Daniel, a very
formal, sophisticated fine dining establishment. We’d gone there on our first
date because he liked the joke of sharing a name with one of his favorite places,
and because it is just about the fanciest and most romantic atmosphere you can
find for your ready money and Michelin stars.

We shuffle through the expansive, elegant entryway, shed our
raincoats and umbrellas at the check closet, and are ushered by a maitre d’ to
a cushioned booth table where my parents are already waiting.

“There’s my princess,” says my father, rising. “Or should I
say, Junior Partner. Congratulations, honey.”

Doctor Augustus Rothschild Sinclair, of the Boston Rothschild’s
and the Las Vegas Sinclair’s, is an intimidating figure even to me. His high
domed forehead, piercing blue eyes, and lean frame immediately command respect.
All my life he’s seemed somewhat remote and severe, something between a judge
and a monk: wise, restrained, and powerful. Now he rises to give me a formal
hug and kiss on both cheeks and I smile as warmly as I can.

“Thank you Father,” I say. “Hello Mother. You’re looking
well.”

Mother is Lady Genevieve St. James, hereditary Baroness of
Ashford and therefore a very low-ranking member of the British aristocracy. Her
family came to Las Vegas after Howard Hughes opened up the casino business for
big money outside the mob, but she never liked the town much. She’s been
abroad, alone, for a few months and looks a bit thinner, but she’d never admit
to me that she and Father have been having domestic unrest. They still appear
in public at galas and openings and fundraisers together several times a year, anyhow.
I kiss her cheek in greeting and seat myself beside her as Father and Danny
shake hands and exchange pleasantries.

Danny had preordered a bottle of Krug Private Cuvée, which
the waiter pours with a practiced flourish.

“A toast,” says Father, raising his glass. “To my beautiful,
accomplished daughter and her beautiful, accomplished beau. I knew from the
moment you were born that you’d never disappoint me and you’ve proven me right
from your first steps to your graduation summa cum laude at Berkeley, to this
important leap in your illustrious career. I am very proud of you, Harper.”

“To Harper. Cheers darling,” says Mother, with a faint smile
on her stiff upper lip.

“To Harper,” says Danny, his voice rich and soft.

“Thank you,” I murmur, sipping, as Danny lays his hand possessively
over mine on the table. Nervous, I fiddle with my necklace again, seeking calm
from the weight of the silver pendant between my fingers.

It’s odd, but here we are chitchatting over champagne, two
couples who are not really together: just one big, happy family. All that’s
missing is my emotionally stunted sociopathic brother and the stream of nannies
that raised us. Part of me wants to scream and run away, part of me wants to
smack myself for this silly angst that not even I can adequately explain. We
work our way through the seven-course tasting menu and I manage to dodge my
father’s questions about weddings. My mother arches an eyebrow and says very
little.

After the coffee cups are taken away and it’s discovered
that Danny has already taken care of paying the bill, Father nods approvingly
and clears his throat. “It’s time we were going,” he says, our cue to rise
collectively. “Congratulations, daughter, and don’t keep us too long in
suspense regarding our next celebratory news.”

He winks pointedly at Danny and kisses my forehead before
escorting mother toward the coat-check room. Danny and I are left alone facing
each other over the cleared table under the bright white archways of the dining
hall. I lick my lips, unsure what to say.

“I do wish you would take your father’s advice, Harper,” Danny
says. “And don’t leave us waiting too long. But, in the meantime, might I
persuade you to simply spend more of this lovely evening with me? Extend my
trial-period?”

His smirk is boyish and playful.

“I don’t know, Danny,” I sigh. “I’m tired and I have a lot
of work left to do tonight. This was very nice, though, thank you for dinner.”

“Please come out,” he says, showing those dimples of his. “One
club. I am prepared to be very persuasive.”

“I’m not really dressed for a club,” I object.

My mind registers that I must be insane to risk losing
someone like Danny Hollis, someone so…perfect. He’s tall, dark, handsome, and
successful; he has the right pedigree, the right family, the right everything. Maybe
that strange little voice whispering doubts in my heart is nonsense. Maybe I am
just confusing myself for no reason.

“You know how stubborn I can be,” he says. He offers me his
arm, all style and grace, and I find myself taking it.

“Alright,” I say with a small smile. “But I can’t stay out
too, too late. Really.”

“It’s a deal,” Danny says with a megawatt grin. “There’s
somewhere special I want to take you, though. Hang tight.”

He takes my hand and kisses it before wrapping it around his
elbow and leading me from the room. Soon we’re back in the town car. The rain
has lightened but not stopped, and the view from my passenger-side window in
the back is the moody and glamorous Las Vegas of the 60s, the strip glittering
in the rain like a freshly cleaned disco ball. I watch the lights rippling
until suddenly we veer north on the interstate and the lights of the strip
disappear to distance, lost in the sprawl of a part of town I’ve never seen
before.

Puzzled, I turn to Danny. You might say we are not frequent
visitors to the less fashionable parts of town. His family and mine are based in
the heart of the city, in our astronomically priced penthouses and weekend
mansions.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

He smiles cryptically. “A private club of mine. I want you
to see it, get to know me a bit better.”

I’m annoyed. “Danny, we’ve dated for six months and worked
together for a year. I think we know each other fairly well.”

He shrugs and takes my hand. “There’s always more to share,
Harper. I think this is an important moment for us, and seeing my club might
help you make your decision. I want you to understand me better.”

My uneasiness increases when the chauffeur pulls up to the
entry of a dilapidated warehouse in what feels like the middle of nowhere. I
can see some dusty mountains to the west and north, but beyond that I have no
idea where we are. Low industrial buildings circle us, the streetlamps casting
dingy yellow light over adobe and sheet metal. The place looks deserted, but as
Danny helps me out of the car I can hear the low thrumming of a bass beat
emanating from inside the building and see the glow of changing colored lights
peeking through cracks in the sheet metal door. Two letters hang crooked over
the doorway by means of a name sign, looking aged and cockeyed: D.C. I wonder
idly what it stands for but don’t bother to ask.

There are several large men in black suits poised around the
door, bouncers probably, and a red carpet incongruously lines the pavement. As
we approach, the largest of the men bows his head formally and moves to enter a
code on the lock on the door.

“Welcome back, Mr. Hollis,” says the man.

“Thank you,” Danny nods. His hand is on the small of my
back, pushing me through the door. We walk to another line of bouncers guarding
a chain-link fence that runs the perimeter of the interior, and we wait while a
chain and locks are removed from a sliding gate. It squeals open and we pass
through, finding ourselves in front of another gate. Ahead I can see red and
blue and green and yellow lights flashing, and a chaotic dance floor. When we
enter the second gate, a tall pale man with long platinum hair greets us. He
looks an awful lot like that alien butler character in Rocky Horror Picture
Show.

“Mr. Hollis,” he shouts over the music. “Your usual table
and order?”

We follow him around the dance floor, Danny’s hand never
leaving my back. It’s just as well, because without him propelling me I’m not
sure I’d make the walk. The people dancing are startling: a mix of well-dressed
businessmen and scantily clad women. I can’t say their moves are at all
tasteful. I feel like I’ve walked into a fraternity party or the Playboy
mansion. The room smells strongly of alcohol and pot, and I am a little
surprised to think of Danny coming here.

Danny steers me up an iron flight of stairs toward a balcony
that overlooks the dance floor, and we are ushered to sit at a small table.
It’s then that I notice the glass cages, like oversized fish tanks suspended
from the ceiling. They hang about at eye-level for the people seated in the VIP
booths around the balcony, and when I glance up to see what’s inside the tanks
my stomach sinks and embarrassed heat blooms over my cheeks.

“Oh my god, Danny!” I hiss. “What the hell is this place?
Why do you come here?”

The clear glass tank hanging nearest to me, about the size
of a Volkswagon beetle, contains two naked women dancing and making out. Before
my stunned eyes, one lies down and spreads her legs while the other kneels over
her and begins to eat her out. In a cage next to them are several women in
chains, dancing. Across the way I see a cage filled with what look like cobras,
writhing over each other and flicking their tongues across the glass.

Danny arches an eyebrow but doesn’t answer my question,
instead smiling as a waitress wearing nothing but a thong and handcuffs
approaches carrying a tray. She sets the table for us with a bottle of champagne,
glasses, caviar, and a small pewter box.

“I want you to understand something about me,” Danny says.
He is the essence of calm as he pours the champagne. “I always get what I want,
no matter the obstacles or complications. I accept no defeat and brook no
refusal.”