Alluring - Suzanne Steele

Prologue

It was a hard place to be in life, the proverbial: ‘rock and a hard place’ or better yet, ‘catch 22’ because she felt trapped. Any decision contemplated never seemed to result in a reasonable outcome. She could overthink it as much as her anxiety forced her to, but there was no easy out on this one. She hated the kind of hamster wheel thoughts that only brought more confusion with each turn of mental meandering. This was a venture on a journey she had never had to travel—unknown territory; high places with jagged rocks that threatened to give way under unsure footing. Her ties with Bratva had caused changes in her life, just not the kind of changes that would put food on the table or keep her greedy rent man at bay. She had been forced into a relationship with Sip, Tee, and Novak because of extenuating circumstances. They had come to her rescue when a john had tried to kill her. She appreciated them exacting vengeance on the man for her, but her life had changed, and she had no idea how to continue because her new normal wasn’t something she was embracing. She wasn’t at a crossroads; she was in a maze of confusion. A year of working the corners of dilapidated streets had ensured she had no work history. Hard to tell someone interviewing you for a job why there was such a lag in your work references. She knew people believed she’d been on the streets for years because of the way she purposely portrayed herself, but she wasn’t one to split hairs. She also knew who she was deep down inside, but the fact remained that the truth of her situation was too horrendous and embarrassing to try to explain to any potential employer. She hated the shame that accompanied her lifestyle. It had snuck up on her like an undiagnosed illness she wasn’t aware she incubated. Hindsight was a bitch, and she wasn’t showing Rum any mercy nowadays. She felt a sudden surge of frustration towards all the prolific writers who had written quotes that kicked you in the ass when you were already down. Though anger was an emotion she was familiar with, she had no intention of allowing it to turn her into a bitter woman. Intelligence, education, and shrewd logic were going to be the only things that got her out of this. A bad attitude and a heart full of anger would get her nowhere. Depression and regret weren’t an option for a woman who was a fighter by nature. She would overcome this set of circumstances the same way she had overcome problems of the past. She remembered the shock of finding out she was pregnant with her son. She’d been working in a diner then, living from paycheck to paycheck. Being pregnant and on her feet all day had wreaked havoc on her health. Her feet and legs so swollen she could barely walk by the end of the day, but she’d made it. It had all been worth it when she looked at the face of her beautiful baby boy. It was a love that had never graced her life; something so real her heart swelled with it. A tangible love she could reach out and touch. Saint was the best thing she’d ever done.

Life on the streets was hard—not hard like you had to work on a holiday hard—hard like there was never any release from its death grip of unrelenting unfortunate circumstances. It wasn’t something any little girl dreamed of; being a hooker. It had a way of seeping into your pores until it consumed you and became who you were rather than what you did. Drama was her new best friend, and for a girl who just wanted stability, it was an unwelcome intruder. She wanted out, but she didn’t see any way to accomplish it. The simplicity of getting into the lifestyle was a deception that lured even the most discreet of women. When you had student loans, children, or an aging parent you were the caretaker for, it was easy to believe the lies and fall into the trap of easy money. No one told you your soul was the price you’d pay to live a life of ease—it had been anything but. There was nothing easy about working the streets in bad weather, dealing with psychopaths, and living in fear for your life. She was continually looking over her shoulder,