Welcome to "The Roaring Twenties" — a time of Prohibition, prostitution, and social change. Little did the lawmakers know that banning alcohol would increase criminal activity and bring wealth to bootleggers in places like New York City. 

Chapter One

August 25th, 1926

Storm clouds gathered in the sky, perhaps foreshadowing the darkening mood of moneyed club owner Mr. Sterling Rossini, sitting behind his richly-carved mahogany desk, thumbing through the black-and-white photographs. Suddenly, lightning flashed, momentarily lighting up the dimly lit room as one photo, in particular, caused him to pause. 

He held the incriminating photo with one hand while stroking the sides of his neatly-trimmed black mustache with the other. His eyes remained fixated on the couple all tangled up on the bed. Upon closer inspection, he identified the man as none other than his good friend, Duke Hollister, and a knot formed in his belly. Although the camera had failed to capture the woman’s face, the ice on her ring finger left no doubt as to her identity. While the other photos of clothed embraces could perhaps be explained, the image he clasped in his hand left no room for denial.

The squirrelly man who had delivered the photographs sat on the other side of the desk, impatiently waiting for his payment and hoping Mr. Rossini wouldn’t choose to ‘shoot the messenger,’ having heard warnings about his client’s temper. The rain abruptly halted while Sterling remained eerily silent — maybe the calm before a different storm. 

Finally, Sterling slipped the photographs into a folder and handed the man an envelope of cash, bidding him an expressionless thank you and farewell. 

Once alone, Sterling walked over to the bar and made himself a Gin Rickey. Despite the alcohol ban, he had plenty of high-quality gin on hand, thanks to his association with "Lucky" Luciano. Just another perk of being Sterling Rossini. His position of power, however, hadn't kept someone he trusted from deceiving him. 

With a heavy sigh, he settled into his favorite Italian leather armchair to contemplate his next move. He’d been hurt before by a dame, but nothing like the sucker punch to his gut he felt at that moment. 

◇◇◇

A short time later, a body fell from the ten-story-high terrace attached to a swanky apartment. The victim’s bones shattered upon impact, and his blood quickly pooled underneath him, leaving a grizzly scene. Heavy rain returned, spreading the blood and creating a widening red ring around the body, keeping curious pedestrians at a distance. When the police arrived, they combed the crowd for possible eyewitnesses. 

"No one's seen a damn thing," grumbled one officer.

The other grumbled back a response, "It's New York City, after all. There's no reason to look up with all the smog in the air."

While the police continued to work the scene, onlookers stood shocked at the horrific sight in front of the elegant high-rise apartment building on the Upper East Side. In that decade, the wealthy had abandoned their mansions for high-tech luxury apartment buildings equipped with telephones, central heating, doormen, elevator attendants, and the like. The upper class enjoyed living high and suspended above the crowded streets below. Gruesome deaths, such as that one, weren’t supposed to happen in that part of the city.  

A clue finally surfaced when a raven-haired beauty pushed through the crowd of onlookers and threw herself on top of the broken body, sobbing.

Chapter Two

April 1924

"Do you think I'm pretty, Mr. Rossini?" 

He looked at the broad. No, she wasn't his type — he preferred brunettes over blondes — but he decided to charm her. "Sure, doll, you're pretty." 

He offered her a room above the club, and she'd be allowed to make some extra dough (minus his cut), pleasing some of his special club patrons. It was a good deal for the few chosen gals — affordable, nice housing in the building where they worked. Convenient for everyone and more money for him. 

He’d come a long way from his humble beginnings. 

As a child, Sterling Rossini grew up in the Lower East Side slums of New York City. His first introduction to gangs came while working at his Italian-born father's shop in Lower Manhattan. It was Sterling who negotiated protection from the Five Points Gang after his father had been robbed and brutally beaten by a rival gang. 

Sterling's mother had supplemented his education with instruction in fine arts, literature, and music. On his own, Sterling figured out that appearances were everything in that city, and he spent most of his money on fine suits and shoes. As he aged, he became known in his neighborhood for his sophisticated persona. 

He dreamed of owning a club and made calculated, sometimes above-the-law moves to ensure that dream came true. By 1920, he renovated a building on Fifty-Fourth Street to become a jazz club named The Black Rabbit. 

As a natural charmer, he made important connections with mobsters like Lucky Luciano, socialites, and celebrities. His shrewd business sense told him alcohol would be a big draw to his club, so the building had been designed with secret doors and stairways, leading to a speakeasy below ground where patrons could enjoy additional music, illegal alcohol, gambling, and sexual favors by his select working gals. He negotiated a deal with Lucky for a supply of alcohol and protection from police raids in exchange for a percentage of his profits. 

Years passed, and by 1924, his club had become one of the most popular in New York City. He'd forgotten the dirty slums he'd grown up in until one day he passed a homeless man warming his hands over a trash fire in the alley. The man's considerable size drew his eyes to him, and then he realized he knew him. 

"James… James Elliot? Is that you?" 

The heavy-set man, towering at least six feet five inches, stared back at Sterling but didn't speak a word. 

Confident he knew the man, Sterling walked towards him, saying, "I'm Sterling Rossini. We grew up on the same street. You rescued me from a gang beating one time, then we became friends." 

The man screwed up his forehead, squinting at Sterling, then recognition crossed his dirt-smudged face. "I remember." 

Sterling noticed his crooked nose, which had obviously been broken a time or two and never properly set. "You went on to do some boxing, correct? Then, I never heard from you again." Sterling gestured to the filth surrounding him, "How did you end up here?" 

The man tried unsuccessfully to smooth the wrinkles from his ratty coat — his discomfort with his appearance was obvious. "I met my Anna, and we got married, so I gave up boxing." Tears rolled down his face. "I went to fight in the Great War and came back to find her gone. A movie star type had seduced her and dragged her off to California." He wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I… I couldn’t handle it. I guess I made some bad decisions." 

Sterling walked up to him and squeezed his shoulder. He'd always liked James. His towering presence and strength intimidated people, which proved an advantage when dealing with the city’s rougher elements. Most importantly, Sterling viewed him as loyal, and finding people he could trust in New York City proved difficult. 

An idea formed in his head, and he warmly smiled at the man. “James, this is your lucky day.”

Chapter Three

May 1924

James was grateful for his new life working for Sterling and didn't want to screw it up. Since he worked evenings, he slept during the day, but memories of Anna had him thrashing about in his bed earlier, unsettling and disrupting his focus. His wife had been the sweetest angel he'd ever met — that's what he called her — his sweet angel. I miss you so damn much, baby. Please come back to me.

Painful longings drove him to the edge again, so he went looking for a means to forget and unwind — a whore.

New York City housed no shortage of brothels, so James picked a direction to start walking and quickly came upon one. They were easy to spot with a broad on the doorstep, shamelessly flaunting her licentiousness to a potential trick. James brushed past them and entered the building, finding the parlor just inside the door. The prostitutes, not yet claimed, lounged about in red faux-velvet chairs, and he picked the first whore he saw. In his eyes, no prostitute differed from another. 

Hours later, James walked into The Black Rabbit and ran into Sterling.

“Christ, James, you smell like a cheap whore.”

“Sorry, boss, I’ll change my clothes.”

James turned to walk away when Sterling grabbed his arm and spoke with a softer tone, “And I’ve told you that you don’t have to pay for it. Any of the biscuits with a room upstairs is yours for free.” 

“I don’t wanna know their names,” muttered James.

"Look, friend, you gotta move on. Anna’s not coming back." 

"I gotta believe she will one day," he said, then turned and headed for his room upstairs, not wanting his boss to see the tears in his eyes. 

Chapter Four

August 1925

Dorothy Jean Potts sat staring out the train window, spotting nothing familiar in the new landscape. She may as well have been headed to the moon. 

Trying to calm her fears, she clutched the pearls hanging around her neck — the only thing she had left of her mama. I'm not sure if I can do this, Mama. Fear of the unknown had crept inside her twenty-two-year-old self. 

Her daddy had passed away four months ago, and a few months later, her mama had died. The doctor said she passed from pneumonia, but Dorothy knew she had died of a broken heart. 

As she’d sat holding her mama’s hand, Mama’s last words to her were, “Dorothy, leave this place. There ain’t nothing for you here.”

“I wanna be a singer, Mama. Maybe go to the big city.”

“You got the voice of an angel, Dorothy, but it won’t pay the bills. Now, you listen to me. You go find a good man who’ll take care of you. You here? The big cities are full of men with money who’ll take real good care of you.”

“Yes, Mama.”

So, she sold the farmhouse and decided to move to New York City… to pursue her dream of becoming a singer. Sorry, Mama, but I wanna be a singer. Maybe she’d find a good man, too, like her mama wanted, but she was determined to make something of herself. 

"Where are you from?" The passenger's voice in the seat beside her interrupted her memories. 

"Kansas," she answered, turning to smile at the passenger. 

Dorothy wished she could say something nice about her hometown, but in truth, that small town represented a coma — a heartbeat but no other signs of life. Nothing ever changed. No growth. No excitement. And no one ever left… except for her. And so when she left, just like that, the Potts family name disappeared from the barren landscape of that sleepy little town.

When Dorothy exited the train in New York City, she fell awestruck by the horde of people, fast-walking this way and that way, bumping shoulders with each other with no "Excuse me" uttered. “You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy,” she murmured aloud.

Everywhere she looked, she saw nothing but shades of gray - the ground, buildings, and sky. The bright yellow sun was nowhere to be found. It felt as if she’d climbed into a stark black-and-white photograph. 

Immediately, Dorothy felt boxed in… even before she moved into her shoe-box-sized apartment. To add to her concern, finding a singing gig proved harder than she thought, so she settled for a waitress job in an all-night diner to pay her bills. Although disappointed, she put on her big-girl bloomers and promised herself she’d make a life for herself in that city. 

◇◇◇

Dorothy walked into The Black Rabbit on Fifty-Fourth Street and became instantly mesmerized by the luxurious interior: silk-covered walls, an impressive stage suitable for a chorus line, and ample, plush seating for patrons. Excitement rippled through her body as she pictured herself on that stage. You can do this, Dorothy Jean. 

She had doubted the word of the gentle giant named James when he offered her a chance to audition for a singing gig at a high-end club. What luck that the diner she worked at was the same one he chose for his late-night coffee. Her shoulders finally relaxed when she saw him, and he rushed to greet her.

“I’m glad you could make it. Mr. Rossini will be here in a moment.” Then, he gestured to the Black man settling onto the piano bench. “Mr. Adams is preparing to accompany you on the piano, so why don’t you get comfortable on the stage.” 

“Thank you, James.” She briefly looked at him before another man entered the room and stole her gaze. That must be him. 

His appearance intimidated her in every way. Shorter than James, he still rose above the average man in height and wore the finest black suit she’d ever seen. Glancing down at his shoes, she marveled at their shine. And his crisp, white shirt highlighted his darker skin color. She’d never seen a man of Italian descent but noticed the difference in his complexion from the men back in Kansas. His black hair was neatly slicked back, and a thin black mustache adorned his upper lip. More than his appearance, his mere presence unsettled her. 

James straightened when he walked toward him. This man was important, she could tell. How can I, a nobody from Kansas, impress him? she wondered. 

She tucked a wisp of her raven-colored hair behind her ear and stepped onto the stage. She’d spent a week’s pay on her stunning yellow sleeveless dress with a dropped waist and hemline trying to creep above her knee. Sterling did a double-take, murmuring, “Stella?” When she faced him full-on, however, he realized his mistake. This young lady exuded an innocence that Stella had long since lost. 

"Where did you find her?" he whispered to James. 

"Waiting tables in a diner a few blocks away. She likes to sing while cleaning up after the place empties of customers." 

Once she reached the microphone in the center of the stage, her hands nervously grasped the stand. After a few deep breaths, she turned to the pianist and nodded, signaling him to begin. 

He whispered out of the corner of his mouth to James. "She's a real beauty without even trying. Why she’ll tighten every trouser in the joint, whether she can sing or not.”

What happened next would change Dorothy Jean’s life forever. Fixing her eyes on her potential boss, she took a deep breath and sang with all her heart. Sterling couldn't believe his ears — a deep, sultry voice oozed from that fresh-faced young gal. He couldn’t tear his eyes from her —  obviously inexperienced but oozing with sex appeal and raw talent. 

When she finished, Mr. Sterling Rossini rose from his seat and sadistically enjoyed watching her squirm, waiting for his response. Patience, doll, patience.

He turned towards James and lowered his voice. “She’s perfect.”

James smiled, happy to have pleased his boss. “Would you like to give her a room upstairs with the other gals?”

“Indeed, yes. I want her close by.” Then he looked back at the vision of loveliness on the stage. “But, she won’t be providing extra services to our guests. No… I want her for myself.”

Then, he walked toward her and, upon reaching her, extended his arms and lifted her by her tiny waist down from the stage. "My name's Sterling Rossini. And you are…"

"My name is…" She clasped her pearls, and suddenly an idea hit her. "... Pearl, Mr. Rossini." Goodbye, Dorothy from Kansas.

"'Pearl' suits you, doll." He raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed her soft, porcelain skin. "And please, call me Sterling since you're gonna work for me."

Pearl beamed. "I got the job? You mean it?" 

"Of course, I'm gonna make you a star."

Pearl clasped both his hands in hers. "Thank you so much, Mr. Ross… I mean, Sterling." 

"James will show you the wardrobe room, and you pick some nice dresses. Then, he'll introduce you to the dancers, and they'll help you with hair and makeup. After that, I'll get you set up with the band to select your songs, and I want you ready to go on stage in a week."

"A week? Oh, my goodness, but I'll be ready." She clasped her hands together in excitement. 

"Perfect, doll. Consider The Black Rabbit your new home." He turned to James and added, "Go show her around the joint."

"Sure thing, boss," he said, gesturing for Pearl to follow him. 

Sterling stood still, appreciating the contours of her backside as she walked away. He’d not only found a hot new singer for his club but perhaps the rare breed of woman who could make him forget all about the dame named ‘Stella.’ 

Chapter Five

September 1925

Although Sterling sought her company most nights since meeting her a month ago, sexually, he had taken things slowly, just kissing and light petting. He didn't want to rush, fearing he would scare her off with aggression. No, Pearl needed a special touch. She needed him to establish a foundation before intimacy.

Pearl had been kissed before, but they were boys. Sterling was a man, and despite his gentle touches, she found him intimidating yet couldn't deny the appeal of an older man seemingly wanting to take care of her. Maybe Mama was right. Perhaps I do need to find a good man to marry. 

Her heart beat faster before each meeting with Sterling, and she admired his sophistication. Was it love? She wasn't sure but liked the security and opportunities he provided. 

One night at dinner, Pearl noticed a change in his personality. He grew quieter, contemplative.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, even though she feared his response. Maybe he'd grown tired of her already. 

He put her worries to rest when he squeezed her hand, caressing it with his thumb. 

"Pearl, are you happy working for me? Spending time with me?" 

"Of course, why it's a dream come true to perform on a stage. And everyone has been so sweet to me, but none more than you." 

"And you've liked the room I provided you above the club?" 

"Why, yes." She began to worry she hadn't adequately thanked him for all he'd done for her. "My other apartment was scary. You saw it. My goodness, I didn't know rats or cockroaches could grow so big." She shivered at the horrid memories. "I can't thank you enough," she said, squeezing his hand tightly. 

"I'm glad to hear it, and I want to do more. I knew you were special since I first laid eyes on you." He kissed her hand and gazed into her vivacious emerald eyes. "I think I fell in love with you at first sight, Pearl." 

Tears formed in her eyes. A man like him loves me — a simple girl from Kansas?

"Sterling…" Her eyes sparkled, but the words wouldn't come. 

He left his chair, knelt beside her, and withdrew a box from his dinner jacket. Her eyes remained locked on his, not yet understanding his intent. A sharp gasp escaped her mouth when he opened the tiny box to reveal a sparkling diamond ring. 

"Pearl, will you marry me?" 

She gasped at the ring, and tears rolled down her cheeks. He offered her the life she'd always dreamed of… but did she truly love him? 

"Please, say 'yes.'"

She hesitated, then thought about Mama's words about finding a good man. "Before I answer, you are a good man, aren't you, Sterling? I mean, what goes on underneath the club…"

Staying down on one knee, he plucked the ring from the box and ensured his eyes never left hers when he answered. "The speakeasy brings joy, Pearl. Doesn't a man have a right to drink what he wants? The good citizens of this city need a place to relax and enjoy themselves, right? Hell, even the mayor comes. It's nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about, okay?" 

He lifted the ring to her face, and her eyes stared at the dazzling ring — the symbol of a life she'd always wanted. 

Her contemplative expression gave way to the lovely smile he adored so much. "Then, yes, I'll marry you." 

He slid the ring on her finger and leaned forward, capturing his mouth in hers. 

After tasting her smiling lips, he pulled back and whispered, "Come home with me."

She looked into his eyes, absorbing the implications of his words. Oh my goodness, am I ready for this? She glanced from her newly ringed finger to his pleading eyes and nodded. "Yes, I'm ready." 

The next day, they were married. 

Chapter Six

October 1925

Sterling entered Pearl's dressing room without knocking, causing her to jump up from her dressing table, covering herself. 

Seeing it was her husband, she dropped her arms from in front of the sheer envelope chemise she wore. “Darling, you startled me,” she fussed. “You’re early.” 

“Looks like I’m right on time, doll.” He moved towards her, silently complimenting himself for his exquisite taste in undergarments. This one was one of his favorites, with the lovely lace inserts giving him peeks of her porcelain skin. 

They’d just been married for a few weeks, and she immediately recognized that look on his face — the sly grin with eyes raking over her body. 

“Don’t you get any ideas, Mr. Rossini. I’ve got my speakeasy debut to get ready for.”

She sat back down at the dressing table and finished primping, fastening a pearl and rhinestone clip to one side of her hair. He moved behind her and pulled her shiny, black hair over her shoulder, giving his mouth access to her neck. 

His lips barely brushed against her delicate skin while he whispered in her ear. “Oh, I have plenty of ideas, Mrs. Rossini." 

She allowed herself one more moment of pleasure before wriggling free. "Darling, we don't have time for this. I have to finish getting ready." 

He smirked, saying, "To be continued after the show, then.”

Her green eyes locked onto his brown eyes in the mirror again, and her body stiffened. "I'm nervous, you know. James said people filled every seat surrounding the stage." 

She turned her head to face him, and he raked the back of a finger across her cheek. "You're ready, Pearl. The jazz club was a warm-up for you. Everyone who hears you sing will fall in love with you… just like I did.”

Her shoulders relaxed upon hearing his words. You do love me, don’t you, darling? With a smile returning, she replied, "I trust you if you think I'm ready." 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small purple velvet box, extending it to her. "For good luck." 

She playfully snatched the box from his hand, giving him a wink. "My goodness, what have you done now?" When she opened it, she bit her lower lip upon seeing the elegant pearl and diamond drop earrings, then raised her teary eyes to meet his watchful gaze.

"Sterling…"

"To go with your pearl necklace you are so fond of." 

She quickly clipped them onto her earlobes and admired her new jewelry in the mirror.

"They're stunning on you," he said, lightly squeezing the tops of her shoulders. 

Pearl rose and turned to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, then planting a loving kiss on his cheek. "Thank you!"

“You’re welcome. Now I’ve got to check on things in the club, so I’ll leave you to finish getting ready.”

After he left, Pearl sat back down at her dressing table and admired her reflection in the mirror. Would you look at me now, Mama.

◇◇◇

"Hello, Lucky, welcome back." Sterling smiled, extending his hand to the mob boss. 

Lucky Luciano firmly shook his hand. "Thank you, Sterling. It's good to be back. Business has kept me away for a bit." He gestured to the empty chair beside him. "Please, join me." 

Sterling sat down and motioned for a waitress to bring a few drinks. 

"You know we've known each other for a long time, and you've never looked happier. Is it just the club's success or more the beauty of the woman you've captured as your wife?" 

Sterling laughed. "More the beauty who is now my wife." 

Lucky puffed his cigar, eyeing Sterling curiously. "You know, I can't help but notice her resemblance to a certain gal you used to run with." 

Sterling was grateful the waitress returned with glasses of whiskey, allowing him time to gather his thoughts. “I guess I just have a thing for brunettes, but I assure you the similarity ends there." 

"That's good to hear, Sterling. People say my line of work is dangerous, but it's nothing compared to how dangerous it is to fall for one of these dames. They can rip your heart out and leave you wishing you were dead." 

Sterling knew all too well the heartache he described, but refused to acknowledge it still lived within him. "I moved on as soon as Stella left for Chicago with Johnny." 

Lucky cast him a doubtful look, noticing the flash of pain in his eyes, but refrained from disagreeing. "Well, for whatever it's worth, I saw her recently, and she didn't look too happy. You know Johnny’s running with Al Capone now." 

"As I said, I've moved on, and Stella and Johnny are of no concern to me." 

"Good to hear. You deserve happiness and success, my friend." Changing the subject, he asked, "I guess you heard about the cops raiding The Cotton Club?" 

"I did, and thank you for keeping them outta my club." 

"You're a smart businessman, Sterling. You run a classy joint and understand how this town works. These cops don't care about the booze. Hell, they come and drink with us. But drugs are another thing. You understand they don't want cocaine in this town." 

"I'm lucky to have James.” He gestured to his large friend, who was standing by the door. “He keeps a close eye on things and handles them before they become a problem.” He rolled his drink glass around in his hand, thinking about those who had tried to peddle drugs in his club and left with a few broken body parts. 

"Good to hear. Now, when's your lovely wife gonna sing for us?" 

The piano player moved into place as soon as the words had left his mouth, and the lights dimmed. 

"I believe right now." His stomach jumped, excitement welling up inside him. He was proud of Pearl and anxious to show her off. After all, appearances were everything to Sterling. 

The room quieted; moments later, Pearl appeared on stage under a spotlight, wearing a sparkly red dress short enough to showcase her perfectly-shaped legs. The red was a perfect complement to her raven-black hair and porcelain skin. Her stunning appearance stole the breath of every man in the joint… and tightened their trousers as Sterling had predicted. 

Emotions flickered across her delicate features —excitement, nervousness, then fear. Sterling, where are you? Her eyes darted from table to table until she found her husband’s smiling face, and her confidence returned. He nodded, and she, in turn, nodded to the piano player. When she started to sing, Sterling fell in love with her all over again. 

◇◇◇

After finishing her set, she politely wove her way through the patrons, smothering her with compliments, and took a seat at the bar to wait for Sterling to join her. A hand lightly touched her shoulder, and she spun around, thinking it was her husband, only to be shocked by the man standing behind her. 

"Duke," she gushed, "you're Duke Hollister." 

The blonde-haired man smiled, then brought one of her hands to his lips. It was his deep blue eyes that caught her breath. The most beautiful color I’ve seen since coming to this town, she thought. Instantly, she became enamored with the devastatingly handsome movie star. 

"My name's not important. It's your name I want to know after that performance." 

She replied with a nervous hitch in her voice. "Pearl, Mr. Hollister. My name is Pearl." 

Without releasing her hand, he flashed his perfectly aligned white teeth in a grin. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Pearl. And please, call me Duke."

"I've seen all your movies, Duke. And I've played all your records too." The words slipped out before she knew it, causing her to blush, afraid she'd sounded like a lovestruck schoolgirl. 

"Then, I'm honored, Pearl. Your voice… it's stunning. As are you." 

She allowed her eyes to linger on his, perhaps a bit too long to be appropriate. "That means so much to me, coming from such a talented man as yourself. What brings you to New York?”

“I started acting on Broadway, so New York City will always feel like home to me, even though I spend more time in Los Angeles now.”

“Oh, Los Angeles, I bet there are many colors there.” She frowned, looking around at the dimly lit, grayscale, smoky room. 

He eyes her curiously. “Colors? What do you mean?”

“New York City is black and white. I miss the colors of Kansas — green grass, blue skies, and most of all, the bright sunshine.”

He found her comments charming and chuckled. “Doll, you came to the wrong city for bright sunshine. I bet you’d love California… and I know California would love you.”

Pearl blushed at another compliment from him, and even though the house band had begun playing jazz music with couples flocking to the ballroom dance floor, she failed to notice the raucous party growing around them. Duke's presence had utterly captivated her until James materialized beside them, glaring down his hawkish nose at the much shorter Duke. 

"Do you need something, fella?" Duke looked up, annoyed by the unknown man’s icy stare.

Only Pearl’s gentle touch on James’s muscled arm unclenched his fists. She quickly rushed to introductions. "Oh, hi James, this is Duke Hollister… the Duke Hollister!" 

"I know who he is," responded James with a dead tone and a cocked eyebrow. 

Before anyone could say another word, Sterling joined them and pulled Pearl into a possessive side hug. "Welcome back, Duke. I see you've met my wife." 

Duke furrowed his brows. "Your wife?" 

"Yes, she married me a few weeks ago, making me the luckiest man in New York." Sterling squeezed her against him and kissed her on the cheek.

Duke tried to hide the disappointment welling up in his voice, and the smile he managed was strained and thin. "Then let me offer you both my congratulations. I was just telling your wife how much I enjoyed her performance."

Pearl smiled but wished she'd had more time with the heartthrob before James and her husband interrupted. 

“Well, I think I’ll find my table and enjoy a glass of your fine liquor, Sterling. Nice to meet you, Pearl,” he said, swiftly grazing her back with his hand as he walked away. Damn, she’s gorgeous!

Pearl suddenly wanted to flee, fearing James or, more importantly, her husband would notice Duke's effect on her. “I think I’ll return to my dressing room and change for the next set.”

“Alright, sweetheart.” Sterling kissed her cheek again and turned to watch her silk-draped body walk away.

“Damn, am I one lucky man, or what?”

James ignored his question, his insides boiling. "What's he doing here? You know I don't trust those Hollywood types." His ferocious brows furrowed. "I should tell him to beat it." 

"Those Hollywood types drop a lot of dough in here, James, so be nice to our paying customers," he said with a lowered voice before greeting the mayor passing by. 

But past hurts remained permanently inked on James’s mind, so he ignored his boss and turned around to locate Duke. He bumped into a liquored-up partier who immediately put her hands on his broad chest. 

"Hi, handsome. Remember me?" 

"No." He pretended she was invisible and looked over the top of her head, determined to find Duke. 

The frisky gal missed the hint and kept pawing at him and babbling things he tuned out. 

Annoyed, he spewed, "Get off me," then grabbed her by the waist and lifted her, roughly setting her back down a few feet to his right.

As she walked off pouting, he spotted Duke's blonde hair. Seeing him with three broads hanging on his every line, he gritted his teeth, seething with a growling groan rising from deep within his belly. You best keep your dirty paws off Pearl, Mr. Hollywood, if you know what’s good for you.

(To be continued…)