The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter twenty-five.

I DON'T WANT to be here.

After everything that happened, setting foot in Sin City makes my stomach turn. Men looking at me in the way they used to makes my skin crawl. I can't do it anymore, which works perfectly for both Nate and Viktor, who are more than happy for me to never work again.

I don't know what I'm going to do, but I know dancing at Sin City again isn't an option.

Still, the two people I care most about are here, and I need to speak to both of them. So my presence in the bustling club is inevitable, I suppose.

"Gabi," Reaper greets me warmly, putting his hand on my arm. "How are you?"

"I'm alright," I tell him, sounding convincing despite it not really being the truth. "Where is he?"

Without even hearing his name, the thought of Nate kills Reaper's good mood. "In his office," Reaper replies.

"Thanks."

The scenes around me are familiar. Crystal lying back on one of the tables as a customer licks every inch of her body. Dante on stage, sinking into another performer and moaning as he leans his head back, then gripping her hair tightly and beginning to fuck her. A couple—both customers—are making out in a booth fervently, hands exploring.

I am used to all of this by now, and it doesn't bother me. But what does bother me are the eyes that find me through the haze of smoke and strobe lighting. Customers I've danced for before stare at me hungrily, as though imagining me naked.

I pull my cream coat tighter around myself. But it feels like they have x-ray vision, like they can see straight through me.

By the time I make it across the main floor and into the quieter, dark adjoining hallway, my heart is pounding. I lean back against the wall and just breathe for a moment.

For a split second, I am back in the mansion with Dario touching me, his security guards watching my every move...

But then my eyes open, and I'm safe. I'm safe. I repeat it like a mantra as I stride down the hallway, suddenly desperate to be close to Viktor and Nate.

I hear their voices coming from the office and don't bother knocking, pushing open the door.

I go still, because they aren't alone as I expected them to be.

Maksim is with them—which is fine—but there is another man...one I don't recognize. Except maybe I do, in a way.

The sandy hair, the square jawline, the cold eyes...He looks remarkably similar to Viktor, though twenty years older.

And as I realize who this man is—who he must be—Nate snaps, "Bri, can you wait outside for me?"

Viktor is staring at me with wide eyes, his jaw clenched.