Hard to Love

Prologue

Seth

On the west coast and several years before meeting the Cross brothers.

This hour of night, the floor-to-ceiling windows reveal nothing but black outside. Pitch black. Inside, though, the lights shine brightly and keep everyone in this place invigorated. The bass of the music thrums in my veins just as it lightly vibrates the hardwood floors beneath my polished oxfords.

Wrapping my hand around the steel rail that runs along the second-floor loft, with my office behind me, I watch the bright blue lights fade to nearly black in time with the beat. Bodies sway, drinks are poured, and life moves on.

My bar is the hottest spot in all of Tremont. The women, the money, all the shit that goes down in the back rooms—it's all mine. Everyone wants in those black glass double doors. Thank fuck for that. It took nearly a year to get my name back, to get the money, both dirty and clean, flowing easily without someone wanting me dead along the way.

A year of recovering from the damage that was done.

A year without her.

A year cleaning up the mess and taking care of shit that nearly broke me. Between all the fights and all the drugs, none of it compares to what happened last year. Two days until the date.

A gruff exhale leaves me as I force away the memories and focus on what's in front of me. The perfect location, the perfect setup. The perfect fucking life I've been building.

The name of the bar mirrors every inch of what's inside. Allure. It's designed to lure in customers and to keep the drinks flowing, the hips moving, and the money streaming in. The bar is seductive with polished black marble waterfall counters that gleam, their shine visible from all the way up here. The deep cobalt velvet sofas on opposite sides of the seating area are just as enticing as the women who perch themselves there with crystal glasses containing pink cocktails in their manicured hands as they let out peals of feminine laughter. Black crystal chandeliers drip from the ceilings.

Club Allure is about escaping from reality via luxury and illusions of grandeur.

The basement though... and the back rooms... those are the real moneymakers, all of it under the table, and how I earned the fear and respect that comes with my name.

It's also what led to enemies. You haven't made it in this world until someone tries to take what's yours. Until someone wants to challenge you. Until someone wants you dead.

I learned that hard lesson a year ago. And the ones who came for me? Their deaths didn't go unnoticed by anyone else who thought they could take from me.

An eerie prick travels down my spine as my mind wanders to places in the past. Back to when I was a different man. Things change when the ones you love the most leave you. Just as I think about everything that happened before this, just as the memories invade the present, I swear I hear her voice.

It's only a memory. She's only a memory. I remind myself like I've done so many silent nights, only to have my gaze drawn to the sound again.

The crowd doesn't part for her; she blends into it, which is what she always wanted.

I see her though, and everyone else blurs as I focus on her alone.

My grip tightens on the rail and everything pauses around me. My blood runs scorching hot. Her dark brunette hair cascades down to her lower back. In distressed dark denim shorts and a silk cream tank top that hangs low on her back, she makes her way straight to the bar. I watch as the corners of her lips turn up at recognizing the two men behind the bar. They've been my crew since the first day... she was there too.