Bound To The Coldhearted Lucas Lorenzo

Three hours later, I stood in front of my vanity mirror, smacking my bloodshot lipstick together before pouting at Becky's reflection.

"Becky, you don't have to follow me. I'm fine," I insisted.

"Miss Victoria... you are still staggering," she countered, crossing her arms. "Let me drive you at least. I just want to make sure you are safe."

She actually had a point.

"Fine, Becky. You almost sound like a mom," I muttered, rolling my eyes as I grabbed my small purse.

Becky let out a visible sigh of relief, and we headed out to the car. She started the engine but paused, throwing one last, heavy look my way.

"Are you sure you want to do this? It's a one-time and forever thing, Miss Victoria."

"As sure as daylight!" I threw my hands up in the air. Times like this were exactly why I loved having a convertible.

Becky shifted into drive and zoomed off.

The New York streets were alive, flashing past us in a blur of blinding neon and chaotic energy.

I knew the city never slept, but tonight felt dialled up to an eleven. Was it the Fourth of July, or have I just been an extreme introvert?

"Here! Pull over here, let's go in here!" I gestured excitedly toward a massive building vibrating with heavy, jarring bass.

Blazing across the front in bold lights was the name: THE GATES OF HELL.

"That's one hell of a name," Becky muttered, her eyes widening at the attention-grabbing facade.

"I bet I'll find something hot in there, then," I squealed, unbuckling my seatbelt and stepping out onto the pavement.

But Becky remained behind the wheel, her knuckles white against the steering wheel. "I don't feel good about leaving you all by yourself in there..." She tilted her head, peering nervously at the crowded, chaotic entrance.

"Becky, I'm a grown woman. I feel good, and I'll be fine. Trust me." I gave her hand a reassuring tug and blew her a kiss before walking away.

But the truth was, I did not feel good at all. In fact, I felt completely shitty. But I would rather drown in the gates of hell with a hot demon than drown in my own bed while the phantom echoes of Trisha's moans tortured my sanity.

"Hey," I murmured to the buff female bouncer standing by the entrance. Something about her imposing build screamed that I was in the exact right place.

If I didn't find an Adam tonight, who knows? I might just settle for an Eve.

A slow smirk drew across her lips. She averted her gaze and gestured for me to walk right in, keeping it strictly professional. Yeah, right.

The music blasted my eardrums the moment I crossed the threshold. Faint neon blues and deep reds flashed rhythmically, making it almost impossible to discern a single human face.

"What kind of overly stimulation is this?" I muttered, navigating through the sea of sweating, pulsing bodies.

Suddenly, the DJ cut the music.

"Okay, okay! I see we are all hyped up right now!"

The crowd erupted into a deafening uproar.

"Then we all know what time it is, my ladiessss!" the DJ screamed into his microphone.

The crowd went wilder. What time was it?

"Sexyyyyyyy Lucaaaa!!!!" They chanted in unison.

Right on cue, the house lights went completely black, and a piercing spotlight slammed onto the stage. Standing there was a nearly naked, breathtakingly hot guy.

My jaw dropped. The women around me went into an absolute frenzy. He was a professional dancer, and his body was practically sculpted for sin.

I could stake my life savings on it.

The DJ spun the next track. The familiar beat hit the speakers, and I squealed. "Oh my god! That's my song!"

Let me take you down... I sang along at the top of my lungs, completely caught up in the vibe until Mr. Hot Stuff finished his set and disappeared from the stage.

By then, my throat felt like sandpaper. With the bizarre, elevated way I was already feeling, common sense told me tequila was a terrible idea. But my feet moved much faster than my brain.

I leaned against the bar counter. "Bartender... six shots of Sex on the Beach, please."

"Six shots? Are you trying to forget your own name?" a smooth, male voice murmured from right behind me.

Yes, actually, I was-but that was absolutely none of his business. I turned around, fully prepared to snap, but my eyes widened.

"It's you, isn't it?" he said.

Me? My cheeks instantly flared hot. The dancer from the stage actually knew me? His gaze wasn't exactly cold, but there was no excitement either.

He double-tapped the dark wood of the bar. "Two shots of whiskey, please."

Within seconds, the bartender slid over a lowball glass with ice rattling inside.

The man swirled the amber liquid, leaning in. "You have something that belongs to me."he said.

"I think you are clearly mistaken..." I stammered, utterly confused.

He glanced around the crowded bar cautiously, checking his surroundings before leaning even closer. His breath brushed my ear.

"The little package?..." He cocked his head, waiting.

Sudden, blinding realization hit me like a train. Wait... wait. "The delivery guy?"

He swallowed both shots of whiskey in one fluid motion. "You're trying to be funny," he said, his face a perfect, unreadable poker face.

Before I could reply, the distinct, wailing screech of sirens echoed from right outside the club entrance.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, throwing his head back in annoyance.

"What do they want?" I asked, looking toward the doors. "I thought security here was supposed to be tight."

"We just have to sit back and wait," he said, but instead of waiting, he spun out of his seat.

"Well, where are you going?" I called out.

"Did you really think I was just going to sit here?".

a sharp glance over his shoulder, he grabbed my hand, and yanked me along.

My head continued to spin as he pulled me down a dim, narrow hallway, away from the craziness of the main floor.

"Wait, wait... where are you taking me?" I protested, trying to resist his iron grip on my wrist.

"Shh. Just follow me."

He reached the end of the hall and used his boot to kick open a slightly unlatched door, pulling me inside a private room.

"What is this?!" I cried out, finally wrenching my wrist free.

"I need you to be quiet. It's the least you can do for me right now," he spat, pacing back and forth across the floor like a caged animal.

"You know what I think? I think you're crazy, and I'm calling Becky this exact second," I said, anger finally overtaking my confusion.

"No, you can't bring anyone else into this!" he snapped, his eyes flashing.

"Is this... a kidnap? Are you kidnapping me?"

He stopped dead in his tracks. Slowly, he turned to face me. My heart beat like a bass drum against my ribs with every slow, deliberate step he took toward me. He didn't stop until he completely invaded my personal space, towering over me effortlessly.

This was completely, totally not how I wanted this night to go.

I whimpered softly, refusing to acknowledge the strange, twisted thoughts suddenly flooding my mind.

"Actually, yes. It's a kidnap," he whispered, his warm breath fanning against my nose. "What are you going to do about it?"

Thud. Thud. Thud.

A heavy, violent pounding rattled the door.

" We know you're in there. Open the door!" a firm, authoritative voice echoed from the hallway.

A dark smirk drew across the man's lips. He continued to hover over me, his chest pressing closer and closer against mine.

Everything was happening too fast. My brain couldn't process it. I opened my mouth to scream or say something, but only a faint gasp escaped.

"I need you to close your eyes and stay perfectly still," he murmured, locking his gaze with mine. His eyes issued a silent, heavy dare.

The pounding at the door grew louder, more frantic, but he completely ignored it. Keeping absolute eye contact, he slid his cold hands down my thighs, slowly trailing them upward until his palms rested against the bare skin of my hips.

I swallowed hard. "W-what are you doing?" The words barely managed to escape my throat.

Shakily, I reached out and gripped his broad shoulders for support as his fingers hooked into the fabric of my panties, slowly sliding them down.

Was this really happening? With a guy whose name I didn't even know? I had saved my virginity all these years, only to give it away to some anonymous club dancer in a back room?

"Stop it..." I whispered faintly, though my voice almost cracked.

Suddenly, the door flung open, clicking heavily against the wall.

He reacted instantly, trying to pull my underwear back up, but I shoved him away in a panic.

"I can do it myself!" I hissed. As I adjusted my clothes, I felt something small and hard brush against my bare skin.

"What's that...?" I whispered.

"Shh," he hushed me.

-

"Wait... Victoria?"

The firm, authoritative voice called my name from the doorway.

Oh, shit. This just went from bad to worst.

"What are you doing here with...?" The Deputy's voice trailed off, his eyes shifting to the dancer, who had nonchalantly thrown himself backward onto the room's small daybed.

"You don't talk to my girlfriend that way, Deputy," the man said, a mocking smirk plastered across his face.

"Girlfriend?" the Deputy repeated, his voice laced with disbelief.

In my head, I repeated the word, too. Girlfriend?!

"Officers, search him," the Deputy ordered sharply, his eyes snapping back to me and locking onto my face.

"We received info that this young man, Lucas, is in possession of an illegal substance tonight. A tiny, wrapped-up parcel."

The Deputy clicked his tongue against his teeth, stepping fully into the room.

"But I think I have a much bigger problem on my hands now, don't i?" he said rigidly.

He didn't blink, his gaze suddenly blistering with an equal dose of deep anger and crushing disappointment aimed directly at me.

"Victoria Lurkin. I'm going to as you one last time. What the fuck are you doing here?" He bawled his eyes out asking