Chapter 33 LION’S DEN
“No reservation, no entry.” The bouncer said, not bothering to even look at me when he said it.
I let the silence stretch.
Then I shifted my weight slightly, one leg sliding forward through the slit of my dress. The movement was subtle, but impossible to ignore.
His gaze flicked up, eyes sharpening as they slid up my legs and thigh.
Good.
I tilted my head, letting a loose strand of hair fall across my cheek. “Are you sure about that?” I asked softly.
His throat bobbed as he gulped. “I… rules are rules.”
Before I could respond, a voice came from behind me.
"You cannot be serious.’
The voice was deep, laced with the kind of casual authority that only comes with a very large bank account.
The bouncer stiffened. “Sir, I—”
“You are actually asking a woman who looks like this for a reservation?"
I kept my back to the man and my eyes on the bouncer.
He looked at me, then at the man who had just spoken. "Mr. Sterling," the bouncer said, his tone shifting to one of deep respect. "I apologize. I was just checking the list."
"Forget the list," the man drawled, stepping up beside me.
I recognized him almost immediately. He was one of Kanan’s top clients, a man I remembered from several boring business dinners in my past life.
His eyes raked over me with a look of pure appreciation. "You should be lucky she is even gracing your club with her presence tonight.”
He smoothly extended his arm toward me. “She is with me. Put her on my membership."
I offered him a seductive smile. "Oh my, Mr. Sterling. That‘s very kind of you."
"The pleasure is all mine, darling," he murmured.
The bass hit me first as we stepped inside.
Lights pulsed across the massive dance floor of La Caverna, shadows and color blending into something hypnotic. Crystal glasses clinked, laughter echoed, and expensive perfume lingered in the air like a second atmosphere.
Walking in on his arm was like having an all-access pass. We bypassed the main floor and headed straight for the VIP lounge. It was exactly as I remembered it: plush velvet booths, gold-leaf accents, and a view of the dance floor that made everyone below look like ants.
I took it all in slowly and calmly, as I belonged here.
Because once… I had.
I moved through the crowd on the stranger’s arm, my steps measured, my posture effortless. Smirking as heads turned as we passed.
“Damn baby,” Mr. Sterling muttered, his voice silky. “Walking with you is like driving an exotic car. All eyes on me.”
I gave him a breathless laugh. Of course they did.
Sienna’s body was a masterpiece of lean muscle and dangerous curves. The silk of the dress hugged my hips, and the high slit showed off the intricate tattoos that climbed up my thigh.
Usually, the ink looked like a warning. But tonight, under the dim lights and paired with black heels, it looked like a promise.
The tattoos tracing along my skin only added danger beneath elegance. I felt hotter and more confident than I ever had as Elena.
And I loved it.
He grinned, clearly pleased with himself, leaning in close. "Don't go anywhere, goddess."
"I'll be right here," I lied.
As soon as he turned toward the bar, I moved away.
I walked deeper into the VIP section with my head held high, my movements fluid and graceful. I was no longer a street fighter. I was a socialite in her natural habitat.
I saw a few men who frequented the Pit. Their eyes widened when they realized who I was.
I saw them whispering to each other. Is that the Siren? No way. The Siren doesn't look like that. She's a beast. That woman is a goddess.
I smirked to myself. Let them wonder.
"I heard Kanan is finally looking for a replacement."
I slowed down immediately. The sentence had come from a group of women draped in diamonds, women I used to call my peers. They were gossiping, their voices high and sharp over the music.
"He’s been moping around like a widower for far too long."
"Can you blame him?" another added with a cruel laugh. "Better late than never. That ex-wife of his was such a sniveling, weak piece of trash. She was always so out of place at these things. She probably did him a favor by dying."
I felt a spike of cold rage hit my chest. I wanted to reach out and wrap my fingers around her throat, but I forced myself to stay calm. I gripped the railing of the balcony until my knuckles turned white.
"He needs a real woman," a third woman chimed in. "Someone who fits his world."
I took a deep breath and turned away. I didn't need to hear any more. I had a job to do.
I approached the bar, ordering something expensive without even looking at the menu.
Confidence was currency here, and I was spending it freely.
“So,” I said casually, swirling the drink, “where is he tonight?”
The bartender glanced at me. A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Straight to the point, huh?”
I smiled faintly. “I don’t like wasting time.”
He leaned slightly closer. “You’re talking about the boss, yeah?”
“I am.”
“I love ambitious and confident women,” he said, chuckling under his breath. “Plus, you do seem like his type.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
My fingers tightened slightly around the glass. Just how many women had that bastard been moving with those people around him think any woman who shows interest in him was an ambitious whore?
Back when I was still doing my best to try to get him to love me, he had also—
I cut the thought off before it could finish.
Elena, fucking focus.
“So, is he here?” I asked, my tone unchanged.
The bartender shook his head. “Not yet.”
Disappointment shot through me, but I didn’t let it show. “When will he be?”
He shrugged. “No one knows. He just shows up when he wants.”
Of course he did.
I nodded, taking a slow sip before turning away.
If he wasn’t here yet, then I had time.
I slinked toward the back of the VIP area, where the music was muffled by heavy soundproofing. I knew where Kanan’s office was.
In my old life, I had walked past that door a thousand times. I had begged him to let me inside, to let me see the world he lived in. He had always refused.
He told me there was no place for a woman like me. He treated me like a child, an outsider in my own home.
The hallway was guarded by a single man.
I walked straight up to him, putting on a look of mild confusion. "Oh, excuse me," I said, my voice soft and breathless. "I think I’m lost. Mr. Sterling told me the powder room was this way."
The guard looked at me, his gaze lingering on my exposed cleavage. He was young, and he was clearly distracted by the view. "Th.. this is a private hallway, miss. You need to head back toward the main bar."
"Oh, I am so sorry," I said. I stepped closer, my hand brushing his arm. "It is so loud out there. My head is spinning."
As he opened his mouth to reply, I used a move Sienna had mastered. I
struck a specific point on his neck with the edge of my hand, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
I caught him before he hit the floor and dragged him into a nearby storage closet.
I rushed down the hallway as fast as I could in my stilettos to the heavy oak door of the office.
It knew it wasn't locked. Kanan was arrogant; he believed his name was enough to keep people out.
I slipped inside and closed the door behind me.
The smell of cedar wood, tobacco, and the ozone scent of his cologne hit me. It felt like walking into his presence.
I stood there for a moment, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dim light before moving to his large desk.
Hoping to find any proof of his involvement in the Cruz hit, but as I neared the desk, something caught my attention in my peripheral view.
I stopped dead. "What is this?" I whispered.
In the far corner of the office, there was an altar set up in an alcove, looking very out of place in the sterile, masculine room.
I walked toward it, my heart hammering against my ribs.
There were fresh lilies in a silver vase with a bowl of burning incense, the thin blue smoke curling toward the ceiling.
And in the center, framed in gold, was a photograph of me… of Elena Cruz.
It was a photo we had taken the singular time we had gone out on a date.
I stared at the altar, a wave of nausea rolling through me.
Was this another publicity stunt?
But why would he need to keep a shrine for the woman he had murdered just to seek sympathy from his associates?
The manouselum I understood. That was in the public eye. Why would he need one where he conducted his underworld business when most of them never liked me anyway?
Or was he so delusional that he actually believed he was in mourning?
The incense smelled like my favourite perfume. Even the lilies were my favorite flower.
It was a perfect, beautiful lie.
"You heartless bastard," I hissed. I reached out to grab the photo, wanting to smash it against the floor.
When my ears caught the unmistakable thud of boots in the hallway, getting closer and closer.
As I stood there, panic rising in me. I heard voices.
"Where the hell is the idiot that was stationed here?”
My entire body jolted like it had been stung by a lightning bolt. That was Kanan’s voice.
“Maybe he went to use the restroom,” a man answered him. “Give him grace, ice. He’s a recruit."
"I know the drill. Just get the door."
My blood turned to ice. They were coming to the office!
I looked around the room. There was no other exit. The window was a solid sheet of reinforced glass. I was trapped in the office of the man who had killed me, standing in front of my own memorial.
The handle of the door began to turn.