Yours Wickedly, Sierra

SIERRA

On the biggest night of my ballet career, with the audience applause still ringing in my ears, all I wanted was to celebrate with my boyfriend, Anton.

Instead, I walked in on him celebrating with someone else.

"Oh, yes, yes!" she moaned, while he pumped into her on the sofa.

The bouquet of red roses in my arms crashed to the floor with a thud. I couldn't breathe because my chest began to burn to the highest point.

Upon seeing me, they fell off each other, hurrying to pull on their clothes.

"Sierra?!" My so-called boyfriend and director, Anton, spoke in a hushed tone. The other woman stood frozen in terror.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" I snapped, glaring at him, and hot tears flowed from my eyes. "Sleeping with my backup dancer? In my dressing room!"

Anton gave a careless shrug. "You're talented." Then he looked me up and down slowly like I was something cheap. "But offstage, let's face it, Sierra, you are like a wet rag, undesirable, and honestly, I'm bored with you."

My fingers flew to my lips.

Undesirable?

Then I yelled in outrage, flying at Anton with my nails scratching at his face, while the slut dashed out of the room.

Security had to pull me off Anton.

The next day, Anton officially fired me from his ballet studio and sued me for physical assault.

PRIMA BALLERINA GOES FERAL ON DIRECTOR.

The headlines splashed across media pages made things worse.

Thanks to him, no dance company in the world would ever hire me again. I lost my penthouse; all the money I had ever made went into payment for damages, leaving me homeless in France.

So, I packed my bags and flew to Boston to live with my older brother, Howard, who was also going through a major crisis.

They grabbed us in the dead of the night, tied us up, and gagged our mouths. When the blindfolds came off. We were face-to-face with a monster.

The obese man sat at a table eating a turkey sandwich...at two a.m.?

"Monroe," he spoke with a natural ease, biting through his food as if this were a normal situation for him. "I believe you owe me a debt."

I quickly turned to my brother in panic. "Howard, what's he talking about?"

Howard's eyes grew wide with fear. "M-Mr. Santini, I can explain-"

The man sharply interrupted him. "Always with the excuses, but you had a lot of fun gambling and partying with my hard-earned money without inviting me. See, I'm also in debt; I have to pay off the Spinellis for my protection, and you don't want to owe the Mafia!"

I started shaking all over. My hands grew cold, and my knees felt weak.

Oh God.

Not the Mafia!

Santini looked at Howard and demanded. "Do you have my money?"

"Give me two days!" Howard pleaded.

Santini didn't blink; he glanced at the large man in the corner. "Kill him."

The large man pulled a cleaver from his coat, and Howard whimpered. As he advanced forward. I struggled in my chair to get free while screaming at Howard.

"How much do you owe?!"

"Three million."

"Dollars or pesos? I will kill you myself, Howard!"

The man leaned over Howard, raising his cleaver, ready to strike.

I shouted at Santini. "Please, I can get you your money; just give me some time because I have many contacts!"

It wasn't entirely true; unless the cousin of the secretary to the Mayor of Paris had three million bucks to spare, we were done for!

"Kill her too." Santini decided.

"Wait!" Howard exclaimed. "She's a dancer, Santini; look at her, she's got the perfect body."

Howard and I exhaled in unison as the large guy backed off.

Santini rose and walked towards us. He eyed me with curiosity.

"Exotic?" he asked.

"Ballet," I replied.

"Nice." Santini nodded, cupping my jaw to examine my face. "Your beauty routine seems excellent. Hmm, you're so young and innocent, but I don't think you'll fit in with my girls."

I looked at him desperately. Howard was the only family I had. "Yes, I can. I'm a quick learner. I'll work for free until his debt is cleared."

Santini narrowed his eyes. "I'll take your word for it, but if you fail, there'll be no corpse left to bury." His eyes flicked with humor. "That's all in the contract, by the way."

I swallowed hard.

That was three years ago.

I still danced at Club Seven, with the Midnight Vixens. Santini had given me the stage name 'Serena,' and I wore a mask with a red wig so no one would recognize me.

At Club Seven, rule number one was to never touch a customer; once you do, there's no going back, and you become cheap in everyone's eyes.

I broke that rule tonight.

His name was Dante Spinelli, the current Mafia boss in the city. When Howard messed with the Spinellis, we had to hide for our lives, but Dante had no idea I was a Vixen.

Each time we had to perform for Dante, he was either calling us whores or bitches. Santini wouldn't ban him for 'personal' reasons.

Dante was sitting on the long couch in the private lounge. While standing on stage, through my cat mask, I glared at his smug face.

"No!" I snapped at him. "We'll never dance for you again!"

"Are you nuts?" Nyx, whose real name was Brittany, whispered to me.

"Get out of here, Dante." I hissed at him. "Come back when you show respect for women."

Santini burst into the lounge. "What the fuck is going on here?"

"I changed my mind." Dante said. "Your Vixens are a little pesky tonight."

Santini turned pale, clamping his fists together. "Capo, is there anything else I can do to please you, for old times' sake?"

Dog! I thought.

"All of them have to leave," Dante demanded.

We started to climb off stage.

Dante called back. "Except the redhead."

I froze.

Did I hear him right?

Me?

When we were alone. Dante said. "Alright, big mouth. Get to work, and don't waste my time."

The smooth music started playing, I grabbed the pole, and started to move around it, with less enthusiasm because I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a real performance.

I see him smile in a true and innocent way.

Suddenly, I lost my balance and fell off the stage, right into his lap.

He laughed at me!

His eyes flickered in delight. "Was that part of the act?"

I scoffed, my cheeks heated, and I refused to look at him. "No!"

I quickly pushed against his chest, but he didn't move. Our faces were inches apart, and I could feel his breath against my lips. I froze as his eyes locked on to mine, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to pull away or lean closer.

How could this man rule the underworld and still appear innocent?

Before I knew it, Dante's lips crashed against mine, my breath caught, and I felt his tongue slip through my teeth, sucking, and the pleasure of it drew me in until my lips tingled.

Oh God, this feels so hot!

Until he yanked the wig off my head.

I gasped, pulling away from his mouth, as he removed my mask and smirked at me.

"Well, if it isn't Monroe's baby sister."

DANTE

Two weeks later.

"I've been looking for you." I said to the man who knelt before my desk, his face caked with blood, looking terrified as he should be.

I used to believe in family, until my brother betrayed me, murdered our father and my sister walked away like none of it mattered.

I don't blame her.

She had a chance at a normal life.

But me? I don't have that luxury.

Not while every gang in this city was out to get the new Don. And I will kill anyone who dares to try.

I poured myself a glass of whiskey. "You came to us, and I offered you one simple job: ship the cargo, get paid, and repeat. And you broke that cycle."

The captive didn't dare to speak.

"Jonas, six packs of cigars were missing from the last shipment you handled." I said, keeping my voice steady, then I yelled at the top of my voice. "WHERE ARE THEY?!"

Jonas squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry, I thought it wouldn't matter if I took some. I didn't sell them, I promise."

My mouth twitched, and I couldn't stop myself from chuckling, while Jonas' eyes flashed with confusion.

"They're really good, aren't they?" I rose from my chair, and buttoned my jacket, as I approached him. "Best on the East Coast."

Before Jonas knew it, I'd grabbed a blade and sunk the tip through his palm, pinning it to the desk. Blood gushed out. Jonas' scream echoed in the room.

"And worth more than your life!" I growled in his ear. "Double-cross me again and I'll cut your fucking throat!"

I motioned to the soldado in the office to get the moron out.

My new consigliere, Frankie, had been sitting in the corner watching quietly.

"Animals!" I spat angrily. "Can't even get the damn cigars without someone skimming off it."

Nico cleared his throat. "I'm surprised you didn't kill him."

"He's the best navigator on the crew." I replied, "This should get the others to fall in line."

I don't know why, but my thoughts raced back to Sierra.

For the love of God...I kissed a stripper!

God knows who else she'd kissed.

Thinking of her with other men should have turned me off; instead, it made me want to strangle them.

But Sierra was bold and headstrong; I loved that in a woman.

I could almost hear my father's voice, low and mocking me.

Dante, my boy, you're losing it.

* * * * * * * *

SIERRA

The producer frowned at my resume. "The crazy chick who attacked the Great Anton Petrowski?" He stamped the folder. "Denied!"

He didn't even let me audition for the Shakespearean ballet. I stormed out of Symphony Dance Studio. I wasn't having a good day.

So, this was going to be my life now.

My ballet dreams had been crushed to dust, and the nightclub would forever be my burden, until Santini decided to stop being greedy and end my contract.

God, I was so sick of exotic dancing.

I wanted to scream at the crowd tossing money at me every night, and I'd do anything to end it.

Feeling hot from the humidity, I stopped by a sundae bar I liked. The place was empty, except for a man sitting at the counter.

"Blueberry Blast." I told the sales clerk.

"I liked your show last night." The man suddenly said, looking at me. "Serena, right?"

A wave of panic rushed through me. "Look, buddy, I'm not in the mood for stalkers or signing autographs."

How were people starting to recognize me out of the mask?

"Don't flatter yourself, cupcake." He scoffed, showing me a badge.

FBI

Frowning, I rolled my eyes. "Okay, I liked it better when I thought you were a creep. I told your colleagues to quit bothering me weeks ago."

The FBI wanted me to spy on Dante and gather intel.

"This might just be the worst case I've ever taken." Agent Seth Graham sighed. "We had two Spinelli's down last year. Baby Spinelli's a psychopath, and he needs to be stopped."

They say his empire is built on the blood of his father and brother. I knew firsthand that he would do whatever it took to remain in power.

The ice cream in my mouth turned sour, just thinking about Dante. "So? Ask one of your G.I. Joe crew to take him down."

"It's not that simple." Seth stated. "The FBI needs you, Sierra Monroe. We think he likes you."

"Go to hell." I tossed back.

What had the FBI ever done for me anyway?

"We'll get you a recommendation to whichever studio you want." Seth promised. "That contract you have with Santini won't stand a chance after this."

That caught my attention.

Back at the apartment, I lay on my bed still thinking about their offer.

Jesus.

Why couldn't I stop thinking about him?

All because of a stupid kiss!

I grabbed a pen and paper from my purse and began to write down the words that I'd been fighting to scream at Dante since the night he took my mask off.

Dante,

You watched me take the pole, like I was just another toy you could play with. You treat women like trophies, elegant things to hold and throw away after use. Your arrogance to them is unbearable.

I can't help but feel there's a darkness behind your eyes, that stupid hair slicked with gel that's probably worth more than my rent, your tongue is like a double-edged knife, and your wicked smile could melt steel.

Someday, I will be your undoing, you will beg for my touch, and every kiss will be as empty as your heart, leaving you desperate and unfulfilled, until every thought leads back to one person.

Me.

Yours Wickedly,

Sierra.

Unable to contain myself, I screamed into my pillow until my cheeks flushed bright pink.

I can't believe I wrote that.

It's a good thing, because he'll never read it.

I picked up my cell phone and dialed a number.

"You've reached the FBI's private hotline," the automated voice spoke. "Who do you wish to speak with?"

No matter what happens, I was going to be the reason Don Dante Spinelli's empire burned.

SIERRA

"I've changed my mind; I can't do this." I winced as the screen played a CCTV clip of Dante brutally punching a man. Then Dante pulled out his gun and fired once; the man dropped dead.

Sitting across from me were Seth and a few agents.

"If you think Dante's cruel." Seth said casually, rewinding the clip. "Just imagine what'll happen when he discovers you've been lying to him."

"Turn it off!" I covered my eyes; my legs trembled, imagining Dante hurting me or worse.

"But it's not going to happen, right?" Seth asked. "Because you're going to do exactly what we've been training you for."

"You make it sound so easy, Agent." I snapped.

"Look on the bright side." Seth advised. "If you win, he'll be serving twenty years to life in Alcatraz prison."

Bright side my ass!

Back at the club, I waited for Dante to arrive; he usually visited on Fridays at seven, but tonight, he was an hour late. My first mission was to get Dante's contact list, all in his phone.

Fine.

That won't be extremely difficult at all.

One of the customers tried to get my attention, but I was too distracted by watching Dante step into the club, hands dug into his pockets, looking bored. He was flagged by two bodyguards, or soldados, as the Mafia called them.

Dante narrowed his eyes at me as I approached him.

One of his soldados lifted a palm to stop me from getting closer.

Flashing a bright smile at Dante, I said. "Hi Dante, want me to rally up the Vixens, or do you want a private show from me tonight?"

Dante shook his head and murmured. "Not interested."

I frowned as they walked past me, then I hurried after Dante, leaping in front of him like a mad cow.

"Come on, I'll make it worth your while." I said sweetly, planting my hands on my hips.

"Fuck off!" Dante snapped. I jumped back, almost losing balance on my heels. A few people turned in our direction.

He must have noticed my discomfort because he smiled. "I'm here for business tonight only. and you get your wish, I'll stick with other girls in the club; I heard they're getting jealous of your privilege."

My jaw dropped open as they brushed past me again.

Privilege?

They really thought I enjoyed dancing for that buffoon?!

Oh, I would be having a serious talk with them!

What was I going to do now?

A server walked past me for Dante.

"Sir, you dropped this!"

"Wait, that's not mine."

I watched Dante reading from a pink polka dot note, which looked way too familiar. I searched my jacket and found it empty.

Dante turns to me; he's seen my name on it!

A small gasp of horror escaped my lips, and I hurried to snatch it away from him.

He's so tall, he held it out of reach, laughing as I jumped like a toddler in kitten heels, humiliated in front of the customers.

"Alright, enough, Tippy Toes." He shoved the note into his pocket.

"Hey, give that back!" I demanded, glaring at him.

"Sierra, seriously, I have to meet with your boss." Dante said in a hushed tone. "Wait for me in the lounge room; I'll give it to you."

Then he swept away.

I slammed my palm flat against my forehead. Every female spy across fiction and real life would be disappointed in me.

Why did I even carry the stupid note around?

What if he told Santini about it?

Either way, I would wait for him to come out.

* * * * * * * *

DANTE

"Now, Santini, I don't care if you and my father played golf together." I said coolly. Omar handed him a document; it was proof of his outstanding debt. Santini wiped his sweaty face with a handkerchief, standing, while I leaned back in his chair. "Your debt is years old, and you've barely paid half."

"Y-yes, well, that's because we agreed on installment payment, Don." Santini spoke.

"Really? Can you explain why you stopped paying?" I asked. "Or do I have to start cutting you into pieces?"

"Wait!" Santini shifted as Omar started to move. "We pay heavy taxes; that's why I haven't, and mostly because Howard Monroe still owes me."

I groaned and gripped my face with disbelief. "Not that idiot," then I shouted at Santini. "What's that got to do with me? You either pay back or I will fucking tear down this place and sell it to a church!"

"How about a share?" Santini offered weakly.

Two million in shares later, I walked out of Santini's office; I needed a damn drink. I wondered why Dad forgave unnecessary debts; so many people owed him, and I will get back at each one of them.

Pausing, I remember that I had to meet with Sierra.

I walked into the lounge and found her sitting cross-legged; she tucked her red wig behind her ears.

Before I could stop myself, I blurted. "I hate that damn wig."

She rolled her eyes, then paused as if she'd gotten an idea. "Well, I could always take it off." She stood, walking towards me. "Only for you."

She stood really close; the black sequin dress she wore exposed her cleavage. Her breasts were round, firm, and more importantly, real.

There was something about Sierra I had noticed over the years; she didn't have a plastic body like the other girls in the club.

Maybe that's why I was drawn to her.

"Among other things." Sierra whispered in my ear.

I shut my eyes, raising a hand.

Still, part of her job was fake seduction for cash.

"Stop." I murmured.

"Can I have that note back?" She asked, holding her hand out.

I smirked. "You think I'm arrogant?"

Sierra's cheeks burned pink. "I didn't write that!"

"Your name was on it."

"It was someone's sick idea of a prank."

"So, you're telling me the ladies got together and forged this note in your name right after we kissed?"

Sierra bristled. "You mean that terrible kiss that I didn't consent to!"

I stared at her.

Was she joking?

She had been fully into that kiss!

"Listen to me, Sierra," I said. "You attract the worst kind of men, and I'm not about to line up behind them."

She stared at me, mouth open.

"By the way, I'm going to hold on to this." I spoke finally, patted the note in my pocket, and walked out of there.

The woman was damn confusing, playing hard to get just to get me to beg?!

Well, Sierra, it takes two to fucking tango!

Somehow, for some reason, I felt like the biggest idiot in the world.

It wasn't until I got to the car that I noticed something was off. I patted my pockets.

Empty.

My fucking phone was gone!