Finding Beauty in the Darkness Read online

  Finding the Beauty in the Darkness © 2021 Nikki Ash

  Originally titled Bordello © 2017 Nikki Ash

  Cover Design: Jersey Girl Design

  Photograph: Sara Eirew Photography

  All Rights Reserved. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Other books linked to Finding Beauty in the Darkness

  Connect with Nikki Ash

  About the Author

  To anybody who has ever had to set the person they love free… this book is for you.

  Chapter One

  GIOVANNI

  “Listen, Don, you and my father go way back, so if this girl has the balls to show up here and ask for the loan, I’m going to give it to her. But I just had Johnny look her up and she isn’t worth shit. You know I don’t normally deal with people like this.”

  I’m sitting at my desk in my office, checking my watch for the time…again. I’ve got too much shit to handle today, and dealing with a little girl who needs money to pay off her overdue credit card bills isn’t my top priority, that’s for damn sure.

  “I understand, Giovanni. Like I said, I’m calling in a personal favor. This girl, Ashley, she’s a tough cookie, but she just can’t seem to catch a break. Single mom, working at my strip joint to make ends meet. She isn’t like the usual women. She doesn’t do drugs. She’s got her head screwed on right. She wouldn’t be asking for thirty grand unless she’s desperate for it.”

  Don is the owner of Double D’s strip club here in Las Vegas. For many years, Don and my father have done business together. Our family owns the club, but we are what you call a silent partner. My father has been using the club to launder money for years. I, on the other hand, have more productive ways to do business.

  “You know the chance of me getting my money back from her is slim, right? Which means you’ll be paying me back if she can’t.” Don knows I don’t lend money to people who have nothing to lose.

  “I told her if she can’t pay you back, she’d have to work for you.”

  I laugh at that. There’s no way I’m forcing some woman to work for me. The reason everything runs so smoothly is because the women who work here choose to be here.

  “You know that’s not happening.”

  Don sighs. “I know, but I’m hoping she’ll be scared enough, she’ll pay you back. She’s responsible. She’s just going through a tough time.”

  There’s a knock on my door, and Johnny—my right-hand man—enters. “Boss, there’s an Ashley Myers here to see you. Edgardo asked me to see what she wants, but she only wants to speak to you. Are you expecting her?”

  Edgardo is one of my bouncers here at the club. His job is to keep an eye on who’s coming and going and to make sure shit stays on the up and up. When you’re in the business I’m in, it’s easy for shit to go bad quick. The key is to always be one step ahead.

  “Send her back here.” Johnny nods once and heads back out, closing the door behind him. “Listen, Don, apparently your girl has some brass fucking balls because she just got here.”

  “Thank you, Giovanni. Like I said, I owe you one.”

  “Yeah, you do.” And I always fucking collect.

  I hang up the phone and wait for Johnny to walk this girl back to my office so I can handle this before I leave to meet my mom for lunch. I check my cell for any messages and notice one from Cecilia.

  Cecilia: Senator Hightower hurt Natalie. Can you please come here asap?

  Me: Is Rome holding him?

  Cecilia: Yes

  Me: Be there in twenty. Do we need to call Dr. Fox?

  Cecilia: Already did. It’s not good.

  Jesus fucking Christ! This isn’t the first time the Senator’s put his hands on one of my girls. I gave him a second chance because of his affluence in the community, but it won’t be happening again—not at my damn club. I look down at my watch and make a mental note to let my mom know I won’t be making it to lunch today.

  There’s a knock at my door and Johnny enters. “Boss, Ashley Myers.”

  “Thank you. You can close the door behind you.”

  He exits, leaving a pretty brunette with a banging fucking body, and my first thought is she would make a fabulous addition to the women here. While she’s probably almost thirty years old, she screams innocence and maturity in her royal blue wrap around dress. Don was right—she isn’t your typical stripper. She hasn’t been in this life long enough for it to corrupt her, but it will. It always does.

  I stand to greet her, and as I’m assessing her, I notice she’s doing the same to me. Her eyes are telling. She’s trying to figure out if she can trust me, which is ironic since I’m the one lending her the money. Her eyes roam over my face then descend to my chest. While I start my day in a three-piece suit, as the morning progresses, articles of clothing tend to get shed, piece by piece. My jacket’s thrown over the back of my chair and my tie undone with the top buttons of my shirt unbuttoned.

  Her eyes stop at the tattoo peeking out of my shirt. It’s a saying in Italian.

  Dalla nascita. Per sangue. Famiglia. By birth. By blood. Family.

  My grandfather, my father, and my brothers all have the same tattoo. We were taken to get the ink done the day we turned eighteen, when we were officially brought into the organization. The moment she realizes I’m watching her check me out she blushes an adorable shade of pink. The men that frequent this place would eat her alive.

  I motion for her to have a seat, then sit down as well. “How may I help you?” My tone comes across as let’s get straight to the damn point instead of polite, and she looks down at her hands for a moment, taken aback by my bluntness. Maybe she was hoping I’d offer her some coffee and pastries. As cute as she is, I don’t have time to fuck around. I have a girl who’s been hurt and a Senator who’s going to pay for hurting her.

/>   Ashley looks up at me, her shoulders squared, back straight. “I need a loan for thirty thousand dollars and I was told by Don you could help me.” I gotta give this girl credit. She’s holding her own.

  “Hmm… Did he now? Did he tell you what I accept for collateral?” I hold back my smirk because really, I’m just fucking with this woman, but she doesn’t need to know that. She doesn’t own shit other than a house that will more than likely be foreclosed on in a few months, which is why Don threatened her with working for me, hoping it’ll motivate her to pay me back.

  “Yes, women,” she chokes out, and I’ve immediately gained respect for her. You can see it written all over her face she’s scared shitless, yet she’s still here, with her chin up, asking for a loan, knowing if she can’t pay me back, she’ll be working as an escort here at my bordello: La Stella Gentleman’s Club. Stella was my nonna’s name, which translates to Star. When my father came over here from Italy and opened the bordello forty years ago, he named it after his mother—my grandmother—who died in a shooting shortly after my father was born.

  “So, you understand, if at any time you can’t pay me back the set monthly payment you’ll be required to work it off here at my gentleman’s club?”

  “Yes, I do.” Her voice wavers, but she keeps her chin up.

  I have Johnny run a more thorough background check on her, and once she checks out, I lend her the money. She argues about the interest rate, and for a second I almost feel bad because I can pretty much guarantee this woman won’t be able to make these payments, but at the end of the day that’s not my fucking problem. My job is to bring in money, not give it away. Twenty percent interest is considered low with the people I deal with, but no matter how confident this woman is, she’s playing a game she has no business being a part of. What she doesn’t know is that by Don vouching for her, if she doesn’t pay up, he’ll end up taking over her loan.

  Once she has the money in her hands, I have Johnny see her out. More than likely I’ll see her again, when I’m forced to go after her for the money she owes me, until I know she has nothing left to give. Will I actually drag her here to work for me? Hell no. I prefer all my woman to come willingly, but if she knows that, she won’t even bother to attempt to pay me back. More than likely, she’ll lose her house then she’ll sell her car. Soon after that, she’ll rack up whatever credit cards she has. After she’s gone down all those avenues, she’ll borrow money from her family or a close friend, and once she’s out of options and she’s hit rock bottom—because they always do—Don will have to take over. Either way, I’ll be getting my money back with interest. Because unlike Ashley, who has no idea what she got herself into, Don knows I don’t fuck around. I have a reputation to protect, and in the business I’m in, your reputation is all you have.

  I’m Giovanni Valentino, and my family runs one of the most powerful crime organizations in Italy as well as Nevada, and I run one of the most exclusive brothels in the United States. I am also one of the biggest loan sharks on the West Coast.

  My grandfather, Joe Valentino, is now retired and lives in Italy with my younger brother, Mario, who runs a hotel and restaurant over there. My other brother, Nico, runs the hotels and casinos here in Las Vegas while my father and his adopted brother Stefan, who is Cecilia’s dad, deal with the underground aspects of the business, which includes the illegal gambling as well as the exporting and importing of various contraband. We knew from an early age our grandfather and father were powerful men. This life we live is not for the weak.

  My brothers and I are spaced two years apart. Me, the eldest at thirty-two years old, Mario at thirty, and Nico is the youngest at twenty-eight. Our poor mother had her hands full raising three boys growing up in the organization while trying to be the perfect mob boss’s wife, but she knew from the beginning what she was getting herself into. She was working in one of the bordellos my father owned in Italy before he sold them and moved here. According to her, he saved her life and in return, she keeps her ears covered, eyes closed, and cheek turned pretending my father is the perfect husband. When the truth is, while he might be the perfect boss and businessman, he is a horrible fucking husband by normal standards. I don’t doubt he loves my mother in his own fucked up way, but he has no idea how to be faithful, and she chooses to let it all go and accept him the way he is because he makes sure she’s taken care of the only way he knows how.

  My mother wants for nothing when it comes to materialistic possessions. She belongs to country clubs and takes vacations whenever she wants to. But it’s all given to make up for the fact that my father’s only true loyalty is to the Valentino organization. While she’s busy being the perfect wife at their home in Summerlin, a community in between the bordello and Vegas, he’s out running the organization and getting his dick wet all over Vegas. Her life is put at risk every day, and everywhere she goes, she’s accompanied by bodyguards—we all are. It’s always been our way of life, and I don’t know any other way.

  Which is why I made the decision early on to never get married. My mom claims I’m being dramatic. She says I’m still young and will change my mind one day, but when I see the emptiness in her eyes she’s in denial of, I know I’m making the right decision. I could never do that to someone. The people we bring into our lives are always at risk. My grandmother was shot going to the corner market in Italy by another organization. My mother has been in life threatening situations too many times to count. I would never want someone I love to be in harm’s way for choosing to be with me. Just because it’s the life I was born into doesn’t mean I’m going to willingly bring someone else into this life.

  Besides, why would I want to settle on one piece of ass forever when I can have any woman I want, any time I want? Who wants to eat the same food every day? It’s human nature to want variety. My dad chose to get married so he could have a family, but instead of spending his life being the man my mom deserves, he’s spent their entire marriage cheating on her. I’d rather stay single and not have to remain faithful to any one woman or be responsible for her wellbeing. I’ll leave it up to my brothers to pass down the Valentino name.

  I grab my jacket from the back of my chair, throw it on, and head to the holding cell to deal with the senator. Caesar—one of my bodyguards—joins me on my way down the hall. “I saw her, Boss. She’s pretty fucked up.” My fists tighten at my sides as I stalk toward the holding cell. I’m going to kill this motherfucker.

  It’s as if he reads my mind. “You know you can’t kill him.” Caesar grabs ahold of my shoulder, pulling me back before I open the door.

  “What do you mean I can’t kill him?” I’ll be damned if this piece of shit lives to hurt another fucking woman.

  “This shit needs to be handled properly. He’s the senator and running for reelection, and he owes you a shit ton of money.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about the money!”

  “You make him disappear and questions will be raised. You don’t want that attention, especially while you’re in the middle of negotiations with the Lorenzo family.” He’s right about that. I have enough cops in my pocket to make shit go away if need be, but I’d be pushing my luck if shit goes down with the Lorenzos. We’re in the middle of renegotiating the terms of our agreement and they aren’t exactly known for compromising.

  I swing the door open to find Rome—another one of my enforcers—standing over Senator Weston Hightower. Weston’s fists are raised and bound together with a steel chain that’s hooked in the ceiling. For a man in his late fifties, he’s in decent shape. Gray hair trimmed neatly, probably from the stress of trying to keep control of a state which can’t be controlled. He’s shirtless and there are several nail markings covering his chest. The entire room is nothing but concrete and is completely empty.

  “I heard you hurt one of my girls tonight, Hightower.” I get in his face, looking him right into his frightful eyes.

  “I-I didn’t mean to…” He stutters over his words, terrified. Bet he wasn’t
stuttering when he was hurting Natalie. It’s so easy for a man to exude his power and strength over a woman, but just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.

  “Didn’t mean to do what, exactly?” Placing my hand on his throat, I squeeze his jugular just enough so it cuts off his airflow.

  “Hurt her.” His voice is raspy from the lack of oxygen and that has me grinning on the inside.

  “Rome, what exactly did the senator do to my girl?” I squeeze his throat tighter, causing his face to turn a light shade of red. Most people don’t know this, but it takes more than a good squeeze to kill someone. It takes several minutes of completely cutting off their oxygen before the body gives up and the heart stops pumping.

  “He choked her with his belt, Boss.”

  I look down at his pants and see his belt is missing. “And?”

  “A gun, Sir.”

  My head whips around to Rome, keeping my hand around the senator’s throat. “What the do you mean, a gun? Did he shoot her?” I take my gun out from the back of my waistband and point it directly at Weston’s forehead, while choking him harder. His chest is rising and falling faster than before, his heart working overtime to keep him alive since he’s lacking the oxygen needed to breathe properly.

  “No, he shoved it inside of her and it tore her up. The doctor’s checking her out now for internal bleeding.” I warned this motherfucker about doing this shit at my club. The last time he used a champagne bottle to fuck her. Tore her pussy and ass up. I gave him a second chance because Natalie asked me to. She swore she agreed to what he wanted to do, but things escalated too quickly and he couldn’t control himself. I call bullshit because I don’t give a fuck how in the moment you are, you can always control yourself. I’m almost certain Natalie has unhealthy feelings for the senator, but this shit stops now. Her safety comes first.