Depraved Valentine (St. Valentines)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

CHARLI

The club is alive with a pulse that echoes in my chest, a beat that reverberates beneath my skin. My heels click against the floor as I move through the crowd, the thrum of the bass vibrating through my body. My friends are all around me, laughing, chatting, oblivious to what’s running through my head. It’s always like this. They think I’m just another girl out for a good time, someone who loves to dance, drink, and laugh at men’s stupid jokes. But nobody knows what’s lurking deep inside my head.

Tonight is no different. Tonight, the mask is firmly in place.

Tomorrow is Friday, and I have no classes in the morning, so I might as well have my fun.

I slip through the crowd, my little white dress skimming over my thighs, the deep side cutouts just daring enough to catch attention without looking desperate. I’m not desperate. My confidence shines brighter than most people’s future, honestly. I was raised to love myself, and that’s exactly what I do.

I sip my cocktail as I make my way towards the bar, searching for my next target, and I spot him right away.

He’s standing near the bar, leaning casually against the counter, one hand wrapped around a drink. His white shirt is open at the collar, showing just enough of his chest to be enticing. Dark hair, sharp jawline—he’s handsome in a way that’s almost too easy to notice. But it’s his eyes that draw me in. They’re sharp. Observant. They’re the kind of eyes that see through people. They don’t miss a thing.

I smile to myself, making sure it’s just the right mix of innocent and inviting. I don’t want to be too obvious. Men like him—ones who think they’re entitled to everything—don’t like to be chased. They like the game. They like to be pursued just enough to feel like they’ve won.

I move toward him, slow and deliberate. He notices me immediately. His gaze locks onto mine, and I feel that initial flicker of recognition. He knows what he’s looking at—a girl who’s confident, but not too forward. Someone worth chasing.

He smiles at me first. It’s easy, predatory. It sends chills through me but I push back the feelings. “Hello there, gorgeous,” he says, voice smooth like velvet, and I can already hear the arrogance behind it.

“Hi,” I reply, my voice soft and playful. I lean slightly closer, letting my perfume linger in the space between us. He inhales, just enough to show he’s caught the scent. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

He grins. “I don’t come out much. Only when something...interesting catches my eye.” The look he gives me makes me want to cower into myself and run, but it seals the deal enough for me to know that he is the perfect target.

I raise an eyebrow at him. The bait is obvious, but it’s enough to make me smile. I can already tell he’s the type to think he’s above everyone else. That he’s got the world in his pocket because of his looks, his charm, his status. And I’m sure he’s used to women throwing themselves at him.

But not me.

“I like to be... selective,” I say, letting the words hang in the air between us. My gaze slips to his drink, then back up to his face. “You should be careful about what you put into your body.”

He laughs, clearly amused. “Oh? Are you some kind of health freak or something? I’d assume so with a body like that.”

“No,” I answer, stepping closer. I let my hand brush against his arm—just enough to leave a trace of warmth. “I just know a thing or two about people. About their habits.”

“Oh yeah? Interesting,” he says, but I can tell his interest is piqued. “Maybe we should talk more about this... over another drink?”

I offer him my best smile. “I was thinking the same thing. My name’s Elizabeth by the way, and you are?” I ask him in the sweetest tone I can muster. Elizabeth is my go to fake name for weirdos like him.

“Christian. Christian Reese. You’ve probably heard of me,” the tone in his voice exudes cockiness. I wrack my brain to try and think of how I would know him, but nothing comes to mind. He doesn’t even look familiar, and I’ve met a lot of people in my life.

“Sorry, Christian. Doesn’t ring a bell,” I shrug my shoulders, and his mouth drops open at my words. Sure, I have confidence, but this man is nothing but cocky. He takes a step closer and puts his thumb on my chin, lifting my head up to make direct eye contact with him.

“Well, let’s get out of here, and I promise I will formally acquaint you with the name,” he says in a low tone, tilting his head to the side. I give him my best flirty smile and take his hand in mine, pulling him through the crowded area. My friends spot me, and I give them a knowing nod toward the sorry bastard behind me, and they immediately assume that means I am leaving with him, which is not entirely wrong.

Once we get outside of the club, Christian stops me in the tracks and pulls out his phone, sending off a quick text. We stand in silence for an awkward couple of seconds before a blacked-out SUV pulls up to the curb in front of us, and we get in. I realize that I haven’t given him my address in that my plan won’t work if he takes us to his place.

“Why don’t we go back to my place? It’s right down the road, and I’m feeling a little impatient right now. I could really use that extra drink,” I say before running my tongue along my bottom lip and looking up at him through my lashes. The corner of his mouth curls up into a half smile as he nods in agreement. I tell the driver my address and we are at my building in no time.

Making it up to my apartment, I quickly kick my shoes off to get more comfortable. I connect my phone to the bluetooth speaker and shuffle my “Feeling Stabby” playlist. I feel his presence behind me and slowly turn to face him with a smile on my lips.

“Nice place you got here, Elizabeth. Where are the drinks? Let’s keep this party going,” the creep says as he smiles down at me, wrapping a strand of my hair around his finger.

I look up through my eyelashes, noticing the flecks of yellow in his green eyes.

“Don’t you worry, handsome. You go have a seat and I will handle the drinks,” I say as I make my way to the alcohol cart, grabbing a bottle of bourbon. Taking it into the kitchen, I grab two glasses from the cabinet and pour three fingers worth of the amber liquid.

Peeking over my shoulder, I see Christian looking out of the window in the opposite direction. Quickly and quietly, I grab the small syringe of GHB from the drawer in front of me and hold it behind my back, ensuring I don't poke myself with it. The use of poison flooded my mind as I thought of the nickname Rafe used to call me, Little Poison. That nickname is what gave me the idea in the first place and it has become a signature for me ever since.

Making my way over, I make it a point to place the drink down on the glass coffee table hard enough to make sure he hears it. Standing tall, I tilt my head slightly as he turns to face me.

“Drink up so I can grab you another,” I say with a sweet smile. He places his hand on my cheek and gently caresses it. It takes everything I have not to gag at his touch. He throws back the rest of his drink and I take the glass back to the kitchen. Looking over my shoulder, I see him sit on the sofa facing the floor to ceiling windows, showcasing the city at night.

I pour him another drink and make my way back over, placing it on the side table as I straddle his lap. “You’re a naughty little thing, Elizabeth.” Gag. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I grind my ass into him. Christian lays his head back and groans. I use the opportunity to pull the syringe out from behind my back and stick it in his neck. Night night, baby.