Heart of Gold (The Golden Boys - Book 1) Read online

  I wanted to snort in disbelief but I held myself back. I ached to reach out and trail my finger down her sternum, in-between her breasts where I would have a prime seat to watch her nipples pebble and tighten the fabric of her translucent bra.

  I clenched my fists by my side and did not touch her.

  “On the platform.” I demanded with hooded eyes and a gruff voice. “Show me.”

  Pepper stepped back and nodded once to the bouncer, albeit stiffly. A slow and hypnotic beat began to drift from the speakers as Pepper took the two steps up onto the platform and gripped the pole like a professional.

  She swung, once and then twice, before wrapping her legs around the metal and twisting around the pole like a lover.

  I was so erect that it was painful.

  I'd been to bachelor parties. I'd entertained clients whilst girls danced and blow was passed around to seal the deal. None of them compared to Pepper.

  Her dark hair brushed the floor as she twirled in a manoeuvre that looked more complex than it was. She was a contradiction of curves and slenderness. Beautiful. Untameable but fragile like a bird in a cage.

  She gripped the pole with her hands, like she was tied to a headboard and slid down. Arching her back. Thrusting her breasts forward.

  My mouth was dry.

  I wanted to touch her more than I wanted anything in my life. I wanted to bury myself inside her and decipher all of her secrets whilst I lived there.

  The song drew to a close and her breaths came in short sharp pants. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled in the same way they had done when I was buried to the hilt inside of her. Stretching her and claiming her for my own.

  My eyes flicked down and I was willing to bet that she would be soaked if I slipped my hand down the front of her g-string. The white lingerie only showed me the outline of her core, but I knew what she looked like from inside and out.

  I stood up. My erection was obvious, but I didn’t care. I wanted her to see that she affected me as much as I wanted to affect her.

  I took five hundred dollars out of my wallet. Wrapped around my business card. I'd written my address on the back and the words:

  Meet me tonight.

  11

  Elliot Gold smirked and thanked me like I was a cashier at Walmart instead of a woman that had just given him a lap dance. He left without a word.

  My fingers curled around the bills, scrunched up in my fist. I noticed there was something wedged in between. It was a business card.

  I slipped the money into my bra before darting to the backroom to put it away.

  Meet me tonight?

  Both sides of my brain were at war. One side was excited because I would get to see him again. That he wanted to spend time with me. That I was worth something.

  The other side whispered in my ear. Cruel and venomous words.

  He thinks you’re a whore as well.

  He wants to meet you because he thinks if you strip for money then you'll fuck for it too.

  My stomach churned and I spread my fingers across my flat belly, as if I could still the emotional pain that had gathered there.

  My lungs felt too big for my chest.

  He'd give me a lot of money. Five hundred dollars was a vast amount for ten minutes of work. Spinning around a pole without being touched.

  I closed my eyes and breathed in through my nose. Deeply. Would I do it? Would I fuck him for money?

  Could I?

  I shook my head to clear it. Julian came into the dressing room. He walked over and wrapped his knuckles on my dressing table.

  “Are you okay, Harry?” He asked. “How was your first dance?”

  My smile was shaky. “He was a gentleman.”

  “That’s good to hear. My boys would kick his ass if he wasn’t.”

  “It wasn’t bad at all. I made five hundred.” I took a deep breath. “It was your brother.” I said tentatively, “Did you know?”

  Julian's eyes, so much like Elliot's widened minutely but other than that his expression did not betray him. “Is that so?”

  I nodded and turned back to the mirror to check that my makeup was still in place.

  “You ready for the stage?” Julian changed the subject. Even though I was nearly naked, with my nipples on display, Julian never looked at me like that. He made all of the girls feel safe. He was a man, but softly spoken. Flirtatious, but in the same way that female friends were. I never felt like he was talking to my breasts instead of my face.

  I hoped Rina knew what she was doing by marrying him. Even if it was a farce. She had to be tough if she didn’t want her heart broken.

  I nodded, as I stood up and fixed my bra.

  “How much did he give you?” Julian asked. “Just for curiosities sake?”

  I told him and Julian whistled.

  I walked towards the door, only turning back to ask my boss a question.

  “Is that normal?”

  “Nothing Elliot does is normal, Harry.” Julian replied somewhat sadly.

  It was two thirty in the morning when I finally took off my platform shoes. I called a cab and was seated in the back before I remembered Elliot’s business card in my pocket. I stared at the golden embossed letters and ran my finger over the grooves that made up his name.

  Even his name was out of my reach. I'd never owned a piece of golden jewellery in my life. At least not one that didn’t turn green with age.

  I opened my mouth to redirect the cabby, but I couldn’t do it. The words wouldn’t escape.

  I'd enjoyed our time at the Masquerade. I'd felt wanted, attractive. Worth something. He hadn't taken my virginity, for that had been ripped from my grip long ago. But Elliot was the first man to lay claim to my sexuality and show me that it wasn’t tainted and ugly.

  I didn’t want to diminish that by putting a dollar value on my lust for him.

  I wanted to cherish the memory.

  I paid the cabbie and walked up to my apartment. Every step was harder than the last. My thighs shook with exhaustion.

  I was used to being on my feet all day as a waitress, but spinning on a pole and writhing for an audience used muscles of which I had never even heard of before.

  I'd had one more private dance after my first stage performance and then I’d walked the floor. It was easy to rub against men. I knew what they wanted.

  They wanted to feel sexy. Desired. They wanted the promise of friction and a warm and wanting body. No person could be judged for that.

  Just like I hoped that God wouldn’t judge me for providing it to them.

  The hallway was dark when I made it to my floor, but I saw his outline by the doorway.

  “Daniel, what a surprise.” I said, careful to keep the fear out of my voice.

  “Harriet Alice Thompson.” He purred, rubbing his beard with one hand.

  I unlocked the door, but my hands were shaking. The middle-aged man, with a body that could fill my entire doorway, followed me into my apartment.

  He seemed so large in the small space, but I fought my instincts to shrink back and hide. The bags under his eyes were dark, making his eyes look like bottomless pits in the darkness of my apartment.

  I had dealt with tons of men like him. Mama’s boyfriends liked to intimidate. She was always too drunk to care. You could whip her round the face when she was out and she wouldn’t wake up. Mama’s men liked the smell of fear. The kind you get from little girls. Not the kind you get off the jaded and apathetic.

  “I'd ask for a beverage, but this is a flying visit.” Daniel leant in and brushed a lock of hair away from my shoulder. I shivered in disgust.

  He reached over and plucked my worn leather handbag from my wrist, yanking it enough to jar my hand. Without a word, the man pulled out my wallet and laid it on the Formica counter and then pulled out my tip envelope. He opened it and counted the money. I knew there was about a grand in there.

  Daniel Davis didn’t have an expression as he took the white envelope and slipped it into the i
nner pocket of his green army jacket.

  “We good?” I asked, unable to keep the fear out of my voice.

  “Nineteen grand to go.” He said without emotion. His eyes glinted in a way that I didn’t like. “If you want to pay your Mama’s debts faster, there are other ways.”

  I said nothing. I knew what men like him wanted. My fists were clenched by my side as he gripped my fist and prised my fingers open. He placed my palm against his crotch without a word. I could feel his hardness through his trousers.

  I bit back the bile that threatened to erupt from my mouth. I removed my hand slowly.

  “No thank you.” I whispered.

  12

  She didn’t show.

  I had alerted my security guards to my guest, decanted the same wine that we had drunk in the study on the night of the Masquerade. I wanted to tell her that I knew. I knew she was the one in the mask.

  I paced. Wearing a groove in the thick cream carpet of my living room, whilst holding a glass of burgundy and drinking more with each nerve wracking hour that passed.

  Putting the glass on the side table, I ran my hands through my hair and tugged.

  I wasn’t coping with being back in Louisiana.

  New York was a constant drain on my energy, time and social life. But Goldryn Bois was slowly eating me alive.

  I woke up on the couch, with an empty wine glass in my hand and a red stain on my carpet. My shirt was creased and the throw pillows had left red lines over my face from where I had slept on them.

  I showered and dressed, making it to the temporary office on the building site on the 603. I was in a terrible mood and everyone could sense it. They avoided me like the plague.

  When lunchtime rolled around, I excused myself and took my key out of my pocket. I had been lucky enough to commandeer a parking spot in some shade. Midday sun in the Louisiana heat was no joke and the mosquitos were out in force. The 603 skipped over the swamp in places, but the building site was solid and we were lucky enough to get the relevant wildlife permits. I had unlocked my car and had carefully placed my laptop in the backseat when I saw her.

  Sarah leant against the side of her Range Rover, dressed like a soccer mom in a pink cardigan and white summer dress. She wore kitten heels, which weren’t ideal for the terrain as she tried to navigate through the mud as she walked towards me.

  I saw her stumble and dipped forward to help her.

  “Thank you, Elliot.” She leant in, touching my elbow before she caught the look of distain on my face and pulled away.

  “I couldn’t let a pregnant woman fall.” I replied stiffly.

  Sarah's lips pulled into a bright smile that showed every one of her white teeth. “I’m glad you've accepted the news.”

  “You haven’t given me much choice.” I growled.

  Sarah rolled her eyes at me and shook her head. She did not deign to reply.

  “What do you want from me?” I told her. “I have no idea how I got in that hotel room, and I know that you're responsible.” I kept my voice without accusation, as if we were talking about the weather.

  “You told me to come to the hotel bar.” Sarah said pointedly. “You wanted to fuck.”

  “I didn’t want to be stuffed full of roofies and raped.” I hated how weak I sounded.

  “Don’t use that word.” She sneered. “Men can’t get raped.”

  I shook my head in disgust. “What would you call it then?” I bit back the urge to call her a disgusting whore. I wanted to recoil from her. Hurt her. But I refused to give her that power.

  “Persuasion.” She licked her lips.

  “So, I’d bareback you?” I scoffed in disbelief. “You’re sick. Twisted.”

  Sarah's face flushed puce and she stepped even closer to me. “It’s your child.”

  “You planned this.”

  Sarah shrugged. “What can you do?”

  “You won’t get what you want from me so easily.” I snarled.

  I couldn’t take a second more of her toxicity. I needed air. I needed purity. I needed Pepper.

  I stepped away from Sarah Mallory, the mother of my child and pulled open my car door.

  “I know you lied about having a fiancée.” Sarah called after me. “Be thankful I’m pregnant. It might be the only chance you have of not dying alone.”

  Her callous laughter rang through my mind long after I had joined the freeway and driven back to Goldryn Bois.

  After my meeting at the building site, I went home and caught up on emails. I cooked myself dinner and paced.

  My fingers itched and my skin felt too tight.

  I needed to see her.

  I went back to the Pink Sleeve that night.

  My personal obsession and my darkest secret. No wait. That wasn’t right. She wasn’t my darkest secret. Maybe my best secret, the kind you wanted to keep because you didn’t want the outside world to sully it.

  Sarah Mallory was another matter. She was a black hole of a secret. Swathed in shame and obligation.

  I grabbed the keys to my Porsche and my wallet; I forced my feet to slow as I got into my car. I was contained by manic energy. Held together by the promise of seeing her.

  Pepper. My escape.

  I parked a few storefronts away from the Pink Sleeve. Located just off of Main Street; the road was bathed in a pink glow from the cursive sign above.

  It was later than the previous night and the bouncer scanned my driving licence. It took longer than usual, and my brother greeted me at the podium at the entrance.

  Julian tilted his head to the side and gestured for me to follow him behind a hidden door. I looked up into the dim corridor. He had a whole network of hallways that customers would never see, it seemed.

  “What brings you here, brother?” Julian had a salacious smirk on his face. Like he knew something that I didn’t. I wouldn’t put it past him because he had fingers in many pies.

  “None of your business.” I grunted.

  “Tsk. You wouldn’t want the good folks of Goldryn Bois to think that the golden boy of the family was frequenting strip clubs.”

  I pushed my hand through my hair, irritated. “I honestly don’t give a fuck.”

  Julian laughed, freely and loudly. “I know who you're here to see.”

  “It’s not you.” I supplied helpfully.

  Julian opened his office door and led me through. Whilst he took the seat behind his desk, I stayed standing with my arms across my chest.

  “Pepper.” Julian said simply. “I didn’t put it together until she mentioned that you were her first dance.”

  My entire body was as taut as a violin string.

  “Her real name is Harriet.” Julian offered. He reached down and picked up the phone on his desk. He ordered drinks without asking me what I had wanted.

  I pressed my back against the door. “I didn’t ask.”

  “She’s Rina’s best friend.” Julian informed me.

  “And she works here because?”

  Julian's expression betrayed nothing. “I didn’t ask.”

  There was a small tap on the door to signal that our drinks had arrived. A waitress darted in, brunette, small but curvy. In another life, I would have checked out her ass but my mind was elsewhere.

  Once she left, Julian's characteristically joyous demeanour melted into a seriousness that I was unfamiliar with.

  “Are you sure that getting involved with Harriet is wise? Have you decided what to do about the Sarah Situation?”

  Julian knew she was pregnant. He didn’t know what a sick little freak she was.

  I grabbed the tumbler of liquor and knocked it back. My lips peeled back to my teeth as I savoured the burn of the amber liquid with a hum. I shook my head in response to his question and put the expensive crystal back onto the tray.

  Without a word, I took Julian's drink as well. Despite the fact that it was on the rocks, I knocked it back without giving the ice a chance to melt.

  “Harriet is going through some shit righ
t now, Elliot.” Julian warned in a low voice. His blue eyes had frozen solid. “I take care of my girls. Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

  I took out my wallet and peeled my black AMEX card from the folds. I placed it on his desk and slid it over using my middle finger.

  “I just want to watch her dance.” I lied.

  I sat in the same chair, in the same room, like last time. My hands were preoccupied with my drink of soda water. One drink was one drink too many around Pepper.

  Or Harriet...

  I shook my head to clear it and I found myself smiling when the door clicked open and the tentative sounds of my addiction drifted into the room.

  Today she wore a red bustier, with a G-string that showed the toned globes of her buttocks. Her heels were red, making her look taller than she was. Her thick hair was straight and touched her elbows. Her whisky eyes were lined and smoky.

  She looked like a devil.

  Her painted lips twitched into an involuntary grin. Unbridled joy like a child on Christmas morning before something flickered over her expression and her emotions became shuttered.

  My heart twisted. I saw myself in her.

  “You're back.” Her husky voice did things to my body that I’d never admit.

  “For you.”

  My words hung on the air. Their meaning uncertain and unknown.

  Pepper/Harriet signalled to the bouncer and the music drifted over the speaker. She strode forward, her shoulders back as if she was going to war.

  With herself. Against me or the world. I had no idea.

  My angel reached forward and gripped my silk tie. Running it through her fingers. She used the material to pull her face towards mine. She smelled like heady perfume. Cloying roses and peppermint toothpaste.

  “I can think of other uses for this tie.” She said, glancing at me from under her lashes.

  “For me or for you?” I answered, caught in her spell.

  Without another word, Harriet pulled the material free and ran it through her fingers and then over her shoulder. She walked behind me and tapped my wrist with her finger. I obliged and put my hands on the chair.