2. Grace

Chapter two

Grace

Sixteen Years Old

I stood motionless in the corner of the room, clutching the champagne Doug had handed me when we arrived. The black dress I wore felt stifling, the fabric somehow itchy despite the exorbitant price tag, and I planned on burning it the second this horrible day was over. People kept wandering over to me, offering me fake condolences, when in reality they were just desperate for a tidbit of gossip. I gave each one of them a thin smile, thanking them politely for their attendance. Doug had Shen posted at my side, and his presence was enough to keep anyone from lingering too long.

Spotting my brother across the room, I stood straighter, taking a sip of my drink and plastering a pleasant smile on my face. It felt weird, smiling today. I mean, what sort of daughter smiled at her own father's funeral? Bill caught my eye, and my smile slid off my face. The older man sauntered up to me, his overfull glass of whiskey sloshing in his hand. He was beginning to show his age, his thinning hair graying at the sides, creases marring his face thanks to all the smoking he did.

"There's my little princess," he cooed, and I bristled, clutching my glass so tightly I thought it might shatter. "You look lonely. Why don't you join the party?" He smiled, offering me his arm.

"Doug wants me here, greeting guests," I explained, glancing at the door nearby, where people were still filtering in in various shades of black attire.

"I'm sure Dougie wouldn't mind," Bill cajoled, and my eyebrow rose. Oh, my brother certainly would mind. He hated people calling him Dougie, and he really hated when people disobeyed him.

As if he somehow knew, Doug appeared at Bill's shoulder, shooting me a grin that said to keep my mouth shut. I glanced at the floor, hating this game of his, and shook my head. "No, thank you, Bill. I will stay here for now," I murmured.

"Oh, come on princess. You're what everyone needs right now, a little bit of comfort." He smirked, reaching out a hand toward me. Before I could jerk away, he drew back his hand with a curse, spilling his drink down the front of his suit jacket. Doug chuckled cruelly, slapping a hand on Bill's shoulder.

"Hey Bill," he announced, and Bill seemed to shrink under his hand, deflating as he stammered out a nonsense apology. My brother was in good spirits today, bolstered by what I'm sure was most of a bottle of scotch and some cocaine by now, judging by the size of his pupils. "Thanks for coming. You know, my dad always talked so highly of you," he said, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. Then his grip on Bill tightened, and his smile took on the mean edge that made my skin crawl. Lowering his voice, he leaned in so only we could hear him. "You want something, you talk to me directly, don't go through my little sister."

"I don't- I don't know what you mean," Bill insisted. "I was coming to make sure Gracie was doing okay, that's all. You were both so close with your father, I'm sure his passing has devastated you both!" I took a sip of champagne to curb the bitter laugh that was bubbling up in my chest. Oh yes, we were all so close, our family was the picture of harmony. Doug smirked, giving Bill one more painful squeeze before letting him go.

"Well, aren't you the sweetest, Uncle Bill." He shot me a look, like somehow it was my fault that he was over here. With Doug, everything was always my fault. Bill mumbled something about cleaning up and hurried off, leaving me and my brother in a silent stand-off. He glanced at the drink in my hand, noting how it was almost as full as when he'd given it to me. "Finish that, maybe then you can lighten up a little." He pitched his voice low, his tone sullen, dangerous.

"I'm not going to lighten up, it's a fucking funeral," I muttered, flinching when he stepped closer, invading my space. He'd always been bigger than me, but puberty had hit him like a freight train, and he was now easily a head taller, even when I was in heels. He took after our father, with the jet black hair that he'd apparently inherited from our Italian great-grandmother. Doug also got my father's strong, handsome features, his chocolate brown eyes, and rich olive skin, while I… I looked like my mother, I guess.

Not that I could even remember what she looked like, her having died shortly after I was born, thanks to complications with the birth. My father didn't even keep any pictures of her, so all I knew about her were snippets I'd gleaned from overheard conversations over the years. I had her pale, gray eyes—like a corpse. My father would drunkenly berate me, " Too wide, too lifeless ," he'd tell me. Or my white-blond hair, too pale, too curly. My mother had gorgeous hair that flowed down her back, and she'd always leave it long, brushed until it gleamed like gold. I kept my hair in a short, curly bob, refusing to let it grow past my chin. I had found that long hair gave men another excuse to look at me, which I hated. Or worse, it gave them another thing to use to hurt me, and they already had enough of those.

"Listen, you represent me now, so you will do as I say, and you will watch your fucking tone when you talk to me, got it?" Doug snapped, grabbing my elbow and wrenching me toward him. I nearly spilled my drink on his shirt, and the thought of it made my blood run cold. He jerked my arm up, lifting the glass to my face until it bumped my lips, and I quickly took a drink so it wouldn't spill on my face. The champagne sloshed down my throat, and I sputtered, choking a little as Doug continued to tip my glass, forcing me to finish the entire thing. My stomach churned as he finally released his grip, and I wiped my mouth, my cheeks burning.

"Now smile, for fuck's sake. You look like a goddamn nun," he huffed, looking me over with a scowl. Shen cleared his throat, and, abruptly, my brother was the picture of happy, straightening his tie.

"Douglas, son, I'm so sorry for your loss."

Lie— I thought, schooling my face into a mask of calm. The man approaching us looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place him. His age made him part of my father's crew, not Doug's, but unlike Bill, he was in peak health, despite his age. Not a single hint of gray showed in his dark hair, and his eyes were sharp. He screamed danger, and I forced myself to stay still at Doug's side, looking behind the man instead. I noticed he also had an entourage, as did most of the guests here. One tattooed bodyguard stood at his left, the bulge of a gun obvious under his jacket.

"You remember Erik, don't you?" he asked, gesturing to his right. A younger man, closer to Doug's age, stepped forward, his mouth turned down in a scowl. He had similar features to the man beside him, enough where it was obvious this was his son. Erik's long black hair was tied back in a ponytail, and his eyes narrowed as he looked over my brother.

"Of course. Erik." My brother nodded at him, his jaw clenching.

Doug clearly hated this guy, so why would they risk coming here? I frowned, studying the two men. I noticed a gold ring on the older man's finger, with a crown engraved on it. I inhaled sharply, then flushed when Erik's attention snapped to me, his eyes dark and calculating. I dropped my gaze to the floor, feeling like an idiot. The alcohol was already wreaking havoc in my bloodstream, thanks to an empty stomach. This must be Alejandro King—and his son . They were one of the biggest gangs in the city, and my father had struck a tenuous deal with them years ago, when it became apparent that they weren't going away anytime soon.

"Erik, the young lady needs a drink. Be a gentleman and escort her to the bar," Alejandro ordered, and I quickly glanced at Doug to gauge his reaction. Doug's lips thinned, but he jerked his head in assent, a very clear dismissal. I kept my eyes on the floor as I skirted around the group of men, heading toward the bar on the other side of the room.

A hand brushed my lower back, and I flinched away, nearly knocking into a waiter passing with a tray of empty glasses. I murmured an apology and turned to find Erik watching me closely. "You good?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. I nodded quickly, pressing my lips together, and he gestured for me to continue forward. I wove through the people mingling and chatting, avoiding eye-contact until I reached the bar. I set my glass down on the counter, and the bartender immediately moved to fill it up.

"Sorry about your dad," Erik offered, stepping in beside me. I took a step back, glancing over toward Doug, whose eyes had immediately found mine across the room.

"Thanks," I mumbled, focusing my gaze on the bottles of liquor behind the bar. I was starting to feel tipsy, and I grabbed onto the bar for support, willing my legs to stay strong for me. The light inside my chest was starting to feel slippery, becoming harder to hold onto. This was why I didn't want to drink today, it made my control fuzzy. I picked up my glass and grimaced at it, making no move to drink anymore. Erik ordered himself a whiskey, sliding a bill across the bar as the bartender poured. His hands were covered in tattoos that extended up and underneath his sleeves, and I stared at them as he lifted the glass to his mouth, taking a long swig. There was a hand of cards across the back of his left palm, and I was trying to see what they were when I heard him chuckle.

My cheeks burned when I saw that he was watching me, and I wanted to evaporate straight into the floor. "It's a royal flush," he told me, reading my thoughts. There was a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes, and it made me shiver. That glimmer promised mischief and sin, and the sexy grin he gave me promised even more.

"You gamble a lot?" I blurted out unthinkingly, and I felt a sliver of my light escape my hold, slipping out into the room. Erik's posture relaxed a little as I watched, and he shrugged, a lazy smirk on his face.

"It's not gambling if it's a sure thing," he replied cryptically, and I frowned. My light made it impossible for people to lie to me, they just let the truth tumble out of their mouths. The only one it didn't work on was my brother, but only if he was paying attention.

I opened my mouth to ask more, but Shen appeared, as stone-faced as usual. I clamped my mouth shut and dropped my gaze to the floor, gripping my glass tightly. Erik turned, giving Shen a once-over. "Your boyfriend?" he asked dryly, and I covered my mouth to keep from laughing. Shen was ex-military and nearly fifty, and he did not react to Erik's comment. In fact, he ignored him completely, his eyes boring into mine.

"Now," was all he said, and my laughter died as quickly as it bubbled up. I didn't dare glance at Erik, just nodded at Shen and headed back toward Doug. For the rest of the afternoon I was glued to his side, forced to smile and make small talk with all the people my father had vaguely known. Doug had me drink the second glass of champagne, refusing to let me eat anything. My head spun and my throat ached by the time the guests started to leave, and I longed to slip off my high heels and fall into bed. Doug refused to let me sit down, and I knew my right heel was bleeding. I could feel the bottom of my foot sticking to the shoe as the blood pooled inside.

We stayed until the last of the guests had left, and I knew it was over when Doug finally loosened his tie, grimacing and running his hand through his hair. I hovered near the door, waiting for Doug to let me leave. He looked tired and angry, and I didn't want to be around him when he was in this kind of mood.

"What were you doing talking to King's son?" he demanded, causing a few of the lingering waitstaff to glance up.

"I just did as you asked, he accompanied me to the bar," I replied softly, glancing around us quickly. My head was throbbing, and my tongue felt like sandpaper in my mouth. I was desperate for some water.

"Really? Because it looked like you two were flirting," he snapped, stalking toward me. I backtracked immediately, bumping into the door behind me.

"I wasn't, I hardly said two words to him. Doug, please, it's been a long day," I begged, as everyone quickly made themselves scarce. I didn't blame them, but sometimes I wished someone would actually stand up for me, for once.

"You don't need to be making friends, Gracie. I'm the only person you need, do you understand?!" Doug snarled as he backhanded me across the face. My head snapped back, hitting the door behind me, and I brought my hands up to shield my face. Laughing cruelly, he batted them away and grabbed my throat, cutting off my air. I clawed at his wrist as he lifted me off the ground, and I saw his pupils widen as my vision started to blur.

The room around me disappeared, and the wind whipped through my hair as Doug held me over the edge of a cliff, a horrible smirk on his face.

"Say you need me, Gracie," Doug sneered, his grip loosening just enough where I began to slip out of his grasp.

It's not real, it's not fucking real.

I clung onto his arm, terrified, and nodded. "I-I need you," I rasped, and he laughed, letting me slip a little further out of his hold. A scream built up in my throat when he suddenly let go, and I dropped, my head slamming against the cool hardwood floor. I was shaking, my mind still trying to come to terms with the fact that I had not just fallen to my death. The pain in my heel was nothing compared to the psychological bruises Doug left.

He left me on the dining room floor without another word and went out to get drunk with his friends. I slid my heels off and limped barefoot past the waitstaff, who refused to look my way. Shen was waiting, his face impassive as ever, and he escorted me upstairs, locking me in my room for the night.

Thankfully, I'd gotten smart and stocked a few little snacks in my room, for nights just like tonight. I took small bites of my granola bar, my cheek throbbing as I chewed, and I ran myself a hot bath. My father and Doug had been cut from the same cloth, so his death really didn't leave me in any different of a situation. If anything, my father had been a known danger. He was controlling, cold, and severe. But if I obeyed his rules and stayed quiet, everything was okay. With Doug… his temper had always been a wildcard, and he had the irrationality of youth that made him even more of a threat.

I didn't know what his plans were for our family, now that Dad was gone, but I knew I wanted no part in them.