Possessive: A Hate To Love Dark Romance (Black Heart Romance presents Heaven & Hell)

  Possessive

  A Hate To Love Dark Romance

  Vivian Wood

  Contents

  Author’s Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  15. Epilogue

  Chapter 16

  About Vivian Wood

  Author’s Copyright

  Copyright Vivian Wood 2021

  May not be replicated or reproduced in any manner without express and written permission from the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  1

  Manon

  “10th and Lexington, please!” I say to the driver as I slide into the backseat. The young Middle Eastern cab driver looks at me and Maisie through his rearview mirror as she gets in a bit huffily. Two very young brunettes sharing the same raven hair, the same high cheekbones, the same cool brown eyes.

  The only difference between us is that I am a ballerina. As such, I dance for six to ten hours a day. My face is thin and withdrawn, my frame on the edge of emaciation. I am dedicated to my craft and until recently, ballet got all my focus.

  Maisie quit ballet years ago, choosing to hone her mind instead. She’s a super smart girl who studies freaking quantum physics for fun.

  However, it does mean that everything about her is soft and rounded, from her body to her personality. I am almost nineteen years old but I look younger; at sixteen, Maisie barely seems twelve. Her innocence and softness make me want to protect and defend my baby sister at all costs.

  The corners of the cab driver’s mouth turn down but he just taps the credit card swiper.

  “You pay now,” he says. “No free rides.”

  My cheeks warm under his gaze. Tossing my head, I glare at him. “I can pay.”

  I clear my throat and pull out my wallet, searching through the stack of credit cards. The cab driver doesn’t know this, but he was definitely wise to demand payment up front. It has been four months since I’ve received a dime from my mom, the person that usually supports my lavish lifestyle. My luxury Upper West Side apartment, Maisie’s fancy school, all the clothes and fripperies that help our family keep up with the Joneses… I’ve paid for it all.

  More to the point, my mom just left me and Maisie without a word. She abandoned us. That hurts and it isn’t something that can be fixed with any amount of money.

  In the last four months, all I’ve had to live on is my meager ballerina’s salary from the New York Ballet. I’ve been basically living off of credit cards, praying that the balance would tide me over until…

  Well, I haven’t exactly figured out what monetary windfall was going to save us yet. It keeps me up at night, wondering how Maisie and I will live without my mom supporting us.

  My eye twitches faintly as I go through the stack of cards. Each of wrapped with a sticky note, reminding me how much I have left on the cards before they are maxed out. “One sec…”

  I flip through the stack, passing by the maxed out Visas and Mastercard’s. My fingers slow when I reach the heavy black AmEx. According to the light pink sticky note, I just paid the American Express bill for this month. I pull it out and swipe it through the card reader.

  I try not to look as nervous as I feel while the card reader does its thing.

  But inside, I’m deeply afraid that this will be the moment that my financial situation is exposed to everyone. My heart starts to pound. Even Maisie doesn’t know the full extent of how deeply in debt I’ve become.

  Luckily, the card goes through, making a little electronic beep. I compose my face, arching a brow at our driver. It’s the little victories that get me through the day.

  He is already pulling away from the curb, completely unworried about the gauntlet he just ran me through. His eyes are on the road as he deftly swerves through traffic.

  Maisie looks up from her phone, blowing out a breath. I cock a brow at her.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “Oh, Manon…” She sighs my name like I’ve just disappointed her. Her mouth twists and she wrinkles her nose. “Have you heard anything from mom?”

  Ah, I think to myself. This question again.

  My heart starts pounding. I wince and shake my head. “Not a word since the spring. She just vanished.”

  Maisie tilts her head. “Well, not exactly. She did leave a note saying that she was going to Thailand. She said that no one appreciates her here.”

  “Yeah, a few of the women from her charity board called looking for her. From what I gathered, she went nuclear when Betty Dietrich accused her of bullying people in the group. It was really rather tawdry.” I grunt softly. “It would be nice if Mom had left a contact number. Or better yet, a big pile of cash.”

  She looks at me sharply. “I thought you were being paid by the New York Ballet.”

  My cheeks heat but I quickly jump in to ease her concerns. “I am. I just meant like… it would’ve been nice if she’d realized we have needs too. But that’s not really mom’s style, is it?”

  Her white shirt collar is a little askew. I reach out and smooth it. She looks down at her heavy black sweater and black and gold plaid skirt.

  Maisie snorts. “Nope. She would never go to a psychiatrist or anything, but if she had they would have called her a narcissist.” She pushes her dark framed glasses up her nose. “I went down a Sigmund Freud rabbit hole a few weeks ago.”

  I smile as I shake my head. “I can tell.”

  “Yeah, anyway…” She scrunches up her face. “Is it weird that I don’t want to go to school tonight? All my friends are making a big deal out of this lock-in thing and sleeping in the same room as boys… but all I’m worried about are the SATs next week.”

  I slide my arm around her shoulders and give her a little squeeze. “It’s going to be great. Remember, you attend St. Agnes for more than their rigorous academic program.”

  She wrinkles her nose at me. “I know. The school is chock full of rich kids with great family names and trust funds to match.”

  I pin her with my gaze. “The whole point of getting you into St. Agnes is that you will have your pick of colleges when the time comes. You come from a great school, you excel academically, and you have these great connections. St. Agnes is worth its weight in gold for any of those things.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I should have followed in your footsteps and trained as a ballerina. Then I wouldn’t be worrying over the stupid SATs in the first place.”

  I look away, glancing out the window. I can see the spires of St. Agnes looming in the waning light a few block ahead. “I’m very glad that you didn’t. Ballet is cutthroat.”

  I mean it, too… I am the most cutthroat person in every class. Growing up, I was the star of every single show. If I danced for longer and worked harder than everyone else, no one could say anything negative about my performance.

  That is, until I m
et Kaia Walker. She’s my direct competition at the New York Ballet and Calum’s little favorite, for some reason.

  Just thinking about her makes my jaw tighten.

  “Well, a little competition never killed anybody,” Maisie declares.

  I grin and give her a look. “You sound like mom.”

  She shrugs, unrepentant. “You know what’s really cutthroat? Attending an Ivy League school with no parents to smooth the way.”

  I tuck a strand of her raven hair behind her ear. “I’m not even remotely worried about your prospects.”

  The cab eases up to the curb and I give my sister another little hug.

  “Go be social for the night. It’ll be a welcome change after staying in your room and studying literally every Friday and Saturday night since I can remember.”

  Maisie rolls her eyes again but gives me a quick peck on the cheek as she gathers her bag. “See you later.”

  The cab driver looks back at me. “Another stop?”

  I dart my tongue out, wetting my lips. I should really get out here and take the subway. But underneath the expensive black trench coat I’m wearing is the outfit that Bella told me to wear.

  A tight, low-cut white tank top, a black tie, and a, ultra-short black school girl’s skirt. It would stop almost any man dead in his tracks.

  So no, I’m not going to take the damn subway to get to Heaven.

  “125th and Jamaica,” I tell him.

  His eyebrows rise at the part of town the address is in. “That’s no place for you.”

  I glare at him. “Get going.”

  He shakes his head but pulls away from the curb again. My stomach does a little flip flop. It’s my first night going to Heaven, the elite sex club owned and operated by billionaires.

  If anyone at the ballet finds out that I’m working at a place like that, I will be ruined. After all, ballet requires a kind of singular focus and a crazy amount of determination.

  However, I’m running out of money. I have to make rent on the luxury apartment that my mom left me in. I have to pay for Maisie’s college applications and SAT prep courses.

  I check my phone, just in case my mother has decided to get in touch with me. She disappeared four months ago, and with her went all the money that I’d grown to expect. But my phone is silent. My stomach flip flops again and I steel myself for what I’m about to do.

  I spend the rest of the ride putting on heavy makeup and touching up my hair. By the time I climb out of the backseat in front of the club, I feel like I’ve put on armor.

  “God, there you are!” Bella appears, looking annoyed. “You could have called if you were going to be late, Manon!”

  She’s a stunning redhead in a dark belted wool coat, tall and almost Rubenesque. Then again, compared to my four foot eleven stature, everyone looks monolithic to me.

  I smile at her. “I had to see my sister off to school. They are doing a lock-in—“

  She cuts me off by grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the side of the plain, innocuous building. “We cannot be late,” she hisses. “Do you realize how many girls want this job? I put my reputation on the line by bringing you here.”

  I jerk out of her hold. “Jesus! Do you mind? This coat is fricking Dior!”

  Bella crosses her arms and looks me up and down. “You have such a bad attitude. Not to mention that you’re the biggest bully I’ve ever met. Maybe I should rethink bringing you here.”

  My mouth twists sourly. “Don’t be dramatic, Bella. When we were in the ballet academy, you were more put together.”

  I wave my hand over her whole person. She shoots me a glare.

  “That’s it. I don’t need any attitude. You are more trouble than you’re worth, no matter how hot the owners are for me to bring in more dancers to appease their clientele.”

  She turns on her heel and starts toward the door. My heartbeat thrums in my ears.

  I really need the money that this job could bring. My mouth goes dry.

  “Okay, okay!” I rush along, keeping up with her as she hustles up to a door.

  Bella stops, putting a hand on the door. “Okay what? I just dismissed you. You can go home now, Manon.”

  My chest puffs up. No one talks to me that way. I screw up my face.

  “No way! I came all the way down here. And now I’m going in that door.”

  She gives a humorless chuckle. “You can’t bully your way into that door, Manon. If I let you in… and that’s if… I’m going to need you to apologize. For being late, yes. But also for being such an utter bitch to me for most of my life.”

  Her expression is unrepentant, her chin lifted high. My eyes narrow on her face.

  I should turn around and walk away. Maybe tell her the many reasons why she didn’t follow me from the ballet academy to dancing professionally. I can think of a half-dozen reasons off the top of my head…

  But I need money. More than that, I need Bella’s introduction to even make it through the front door of Heaven. I’ve never been to a sex club, much less a place as hush-hush as Heaven. They don’t just take anybody off the street.

  Even Heaven’s cocktail waitresses are models, actresses, and dancers.

  So I relent.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, letting out a long stream of air.

  Bella cocks her hip. “For what?”

  “For being a bitch. And for being late.” The words taste bitter on my tongue.

  She pins me with her gaze. “That’s not really enough… but it’ll have to do for now. I told them to expect someone new tonight… and I can’t let them down.”

  I don’t thank her. Instead, I just drop my gaze.

  Turning on her heel, Bells pulls out a keycard. My stomach is in knots as she swipes her keycard and opens the thick metal door.

  2

  Lucas

  “Where the fuck are we going?” I ask as I trudge down an all-but-abandoned street. “I practically own New York City. And I’m here to tell you, I have never even seen this part of town. I feel like I’m in some post-apocalyptic nightmare or something.”

  James gives me a hard look, straightening his cuff on his Armani suit. “You’ve been rich for too long. This isn’t even a bad neighborhood. It’s just a no man’s land, between Manhattan and Jamaica.”

  “What a perfect place to put sex club in,” I grunt. “Going to this place had better produce the results I want. Godric Laarsen had better be here… and he’d better show me his vulnerable side pretty damn quick.”

  He shakes his head as we turn right around a corner. “That’s your problem, Lucas. You’re so damn impatient. Everything in your life has come to you so easily. Like your company. You didn’t create it… you just took what Calum had already built and expanded it.”

  I scoff at that. “IndicaCo has grown by leaps and bounds since I took over. I’ve tripled the bottom line in the three months that I’ve been in charge.”

  James slides me a look. “So you turned a billion into three billion. That doesn’t change the fact that we are here tonight to settle some petty bullshit between you and Godric.”

  I arch a brow and stop in my tracks. “He shorted IndicaCo’s stock, reaped a massive profit, and made me look weak in the process. The idiots on my company board were apoplectic. I have to make Godric pay for that. I have to make him suffer.”

  He shrugs and crosses the empty street, heading toward a tall, beige building that looks abandoned. “How about you just try not to get kicked out of this club? There are rules here, even for you. And the owners take them pretty seriously.”

  I screw up my face, examining the building. “I swear, you get kicked out of one place with your friends during spring break and your friends will never let you live it down.”

  James stops before a door, eyeing me. “It was Monaco, Lucas. We were deported. And we still aren’t welcome back anytime soon.”

  I flap a hand. “That was years ago.”

  James shoots me a steely eyed glare. “Give me your word that
you will play it cool inside. No arguing, no fist fights. Consent is pretty explicit on the main level… And whatever you do, don’t get too attached to any of the pretty young girls you see. They are pretty much all owned by someone even more powerful than you.”

  “I can’t wait to meet someone with more connections and money than I have. Maybe we can arm wrestle or something.” I give a humorless little laugh. “And as for getting attached to the girls, don’t worry. My attention will be on Godric.”

  He reaches in his pocket and produces a golden key. He presses an unseen button and a panel discreetly rolls back, Displaying only an ornate filagree lock. It takes him a moment to turn the key in the lock and push open the heavy door.

  Inside, nothing but darkness awaits. James takes his key out of the door and steps inside, motioning for me to follow. The fine hairs on my nape rise slightly as I enter. Unease ripples through my gut.

  The door swings closed behind me and soft white track lights start to glow on the floor, pointing us to another door. James moves toward it with confidence; I follow, trying to shake the feeling of walking toward my own execution.

  As we approach the second door, I can hear the faint throb of loud music. James pulls the second door open and steps back to let me through. I walk forward, immediately saturated with the incredibly loud techno and the black lit scene before me.

  To my left, there are more track lights leading into a hallway. To my right, there are half a dozen men in expensive suits standing around a young Asian woman, who is suspended above them in a golden cage. She wears just a lacy white bra and thong. The woman is bound by black silk ropes the same color as her long raven mane of hair.