Chapter Three
Jill
“What about this one?” Lana asks, holding up a tube of red lipstick. I gaze at the color for a moment in consideration before shaking my head.
“Close, but no. It’s a little more maroon than that, more vampy,” I say as she puts the lipstick back where she found it on the makeup display. Strolling down the aisle, my eyes scan each lip product that I pass in search of the perfect shade.
“Don’t you already have, like, five red lipsticks?” Lana asks from the next aisle over.
“Yeah, so? I have to wear them to work a lot, and I get bored.” My eyes catch on the last color in the display next to me. “This one, this is the color I’m looking for.”
“Damn. Okay, now I totally see the vision. You need that,” Lana says from behind me, peering over my shoulder as I swatch the dark red lipstick on the back of my hand. The formula is creamy, and I’ll definitely need the matching lip liner to keep it in place. But the color is perfect.
Finding lipsticks the exact shade of the blood I’ve shed is addicting. The thrill when I find what I’m looking for—when the shade matches exactly what the tiny vial looked like when I collected my victim’s blood—is intoxicating. The first swipe of the bright red lipstick that matched Carter’s blood had felt like a hit of the best drug on the market—the high only second to the actual kill. Now I’m determined to grow my collection. With each new man I make bleed, a new lip combo will make its way into my makeup bag.
And now I’ve found Jonas.
Lana doesn’t know what this lipstick represents. I haven’t told her about my newest violent obsession—I haven’t told anyone. Lana would never turn on me, as my true ride or die, I know she’d be first in line to help me bury the bodies.
Literally. There’s no question of loyalty.
I trust Lana with my life—and my kills—but the only way to ensure something stays a secret is not to tell a single soul about it. Plus, it gives her plausible deniability and all that shit.
Since the day I met Lana Love five years ago, we’ve been inseparable. We grew close insanely quickly and never looked back—she’s my other half. Not to mention, she’s absolutely gorgeous with platinum blonde hair cut bluntly just above her shoulder, charming dimples that decorate her megawatt smile, and lots of body to work with.
We’re the same in that aspect, wearing the same size clothing with almost the exact same measurements. The only difference is where I have a little extra ass, she has more tits. Nothing beats having a best friend you can share clothes with, especially another plus-size baddie with great style.
“Red is definitely your color,” Lana states, and I agree.
“It’s a good thing, too. Red seems to have taken over my life lately.” It’s the truth. Between the red lipstick, the interior of Inferno, and the blood I crave to shed—there’s no escaping it. So I embrace it instead, and it does look damn good on me.
“Now help me find a lipstick for my date with Christos tonight,” she announces, picking up a plumping peach lip gloss to get a better look.
“You’re seeing Christos again? This is your third date with the guy in a week.” I give her a sly look over my shoulder, but she just rolls her eyes and shrugs.
“So? It’s not like it’s serious between us. He’s only in town a few more days, and he gives good dick. Why not get it while I can?”
“Okay…” My voice trails off, not the least bit convinced.
“Besides, he’s an arms dealer. You know I don’t do relationships with men who deal with guns—not after Nico. Never again.” The smile tilting her lips tells me I can’t believe a word she says. She’s drawn to dangerous men. Men who can’t file an honest tax return and are often on some sort of federal watch list. It’s one of the many things we have in common—we like to flirt with darkness.
“You can’t even say that with a straight face,” I point out. She flashes me a big, dazzling smile.
“I’m thinking tonight I wanna do a pink and pouty look.” She purses her full lips into an exaggerated pout, widening her big hazel eyes. “A look that says I deserve another Chanel.”
I tilt my head back and laugh. Lana does well for herself, we both do—or at least I did. Now that my paychecks are being taken for my brother’s debt, I’m left clutching at the lifestyle I’ve grown to love.
Lana knows my predicament, and she’s very generous. But I can’t let her act as my sugar mama, I can’t enjoy things knowing they’re draining her bank account. So if men want to buy us pretty things or pay for expensive trips, we let them.
“I’m sure we can find something that’ll do the trick,” I assure her. Lana doesn’t have any trouble getting what she wants and looks stunning in everything. Her sense of style ranges between glam streetwear, clubbing Barbie, and early 2000s with an urban twist. She reminds me of a Bratz doll if it were a fat babe with expensive taste.
I turn to show her a gorgeous pink lipstick when my eyes catch on a figure standing in the parking lot. A man is casually leaning against my car, tattooed arms crossed over his chest with silver rings glinting in the summer sun, looking into the store through the front window.
Looking at me.
Gage Lawless’ dark eyes follow my every move as I put the lipstick back on the shelf. When our eyes meet, he smirks and looks me over from head to toe. He’s completely relaxed, his presence like a dark cloud on a sunny day.
He looks out of place in this shopping center—it’s obvious he’s not here to buy cosmetics, get his hair done at the salon next door, or get a facial at the med spa.
He’s here for me.
And with how he’s standing out in the open so brazenly, it’s obvious that he wants me to see him. The sight of him picks at me, making annoyance itch under my skin. It feels like he’s trying to get a rise out of me, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction. He doesn’t get to ruin my day.
The best way to deal with someone demanding attention, someone who’s trying to force your hand, is to ignore them.
Pulling my eyes away, I continue my shopping like I never saw him. Lana and I browse while she tells me about the restaurant her date’s taking her to tonight—sampling products and tossing things into our baskets—until we’ve both racked up quite the beauty haul. Stress claws at me with every swipe of my credit card, and I have to force myself not to cringe against the numbers being added to the balance.
Today was a shopping day, and this is our last stop after clothing and accessories. When we’re finally done shopping, we check out.
Walking out the door, I can see when Lana registers our shadow. “There’s a man on your car,” she murmurs, leaning in. “Is he yours?”
“Yeah, just ignore him,” I say, staring straight ahead. Stowing our shopping bags in the trunk, Lana climbs into the passenger seat without a word. When I approach the driver’s side, there he is.
His massive frame leans against my vehicle, taking up space and drawing me in like gravity. The closer I get to him, the more my body responds.
I want him to wreck me.
I don’t spare the man a glance when I reach for the handle. He doesn’t budge an inch, simply standing with his hands tucked under his crossed arms to display the rich ink covering his beautiful, bulging biceps. After a moment of trying—and failing—to get my door open, I finally give him a taste of what he wants.
“Gage.”
“Jill.”
“You’re in my way,” I say, keeping my tone and expression neutral. He doesn’t like being ignored, and despite his calm demeanor, I can feel the tension radiating off his body. Instead of backing away, he leans in, speaking intimately into my ear.
“I want to be in more than just your way, little devil.” He gives me a cocky grin when he finally steps back with a dark promise. “I’ll see you around.”
I open my car door as soon as there’s enough room, not bothering to make sure it doesn’t hit him on my way in. Unfortunately, he’s faster than me and dodges it effortlessly. I climb behind the wheel, shutting the door soundly behind me.
“Is that Gage Lawless?” Lana asks, pushing her vintage Prada sunglasses down her nose to look at him over the frames.
“That’s him,” I confirm, starting the car. I told her all about last night, all the way up until the part where I met up with Jonas and killed him. I spared no details about what happened between me and the new owner of Inferno. There are no secrets between me and my best friend—aside from the ones too dark to see the light of day.
Gage tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as he walks backward towards a motorcycle, only taking his eyes off me to tilt his head and grin at Lana before his gaze locks back on me.
“Goddamn,” Lana murmurs, echoing my thoughts the first time I saw Gage. “That man wants you so bad. Are you gonna fuck him?”
“Probably,” I say, putting the car into gear. I rev the engine and peel out of the parking spot, but not before flipping him the bird. “If he’s any good, I might even let him fuck me.”
The question isn’t if I’m going to fuck Gage. It’s whether or not I’m going to kill him.
“Here you go,” I shout over the club music. “Four Hellfire shots.” Placing the tray on the counter in front of the group of girls, I grin as their eyes widen. The red shots look so pretty, with flames dancing on the tops of each glass. They exchange glances before grabbing a shot each to clink in cheers and down in one gulp.
They each cope with the effects differently—one shouting with a whoop, one screwing her eyes shut tight and clenching her fist in front of her, one hopping around in a little dance, and one taking it with a straight face like she’d just taken a sip of water.
“Another round?” I ask, but they shake their heads.
“No, I wanna go dance,” the hoppy girl says, tugging two of her friends’ arms. “But we’ll definitely be back. That shit is good.”
“Thanks, girl,” the straight-faced girl says, laying down some bills. They paid when they ordered the shots, so this is for me. I accept it with a smile.
“My pleasure, ladies. Enjoy yourselves.” I’m off in ten minutes, so I won’t be here when they come back. But Billy will take good care of them when he takes over behind the bar.
As soon as they walk away and disappear into the crowds on the dancefloor, I let out a deep breath. My eyes lift to scan over the crowd, half expecting to find a dark figure standing amongst the partiers—watching me.
Gage has appeared several times since my shopping spree earlier today, always watching me like it’s his favorite thing to do. Every time, he makes himself known—standing out so there’s no confusion about what he’s doing.
I don’t try to avoid his attention. In fact, I meet it head on. I never shy away from meeting his gaze, but I won’t let it affect how I live my life. He can watch me, try to get inside my head and toy with me. But I’ll decide when it’s really time to play.
Seeing nothing in my perusal of the dancers, I focus on collecting my receipts and cash tips. Tonight has been hectic, to say the least, and I’m glad I’m not closing. There have been some big and rowdy groups here tonight.
I’m not working at the main bar, which is a blessing and a curse. Tonight, I’m at the smaller second bar Inferno has off the dancefloor. We only serve shots over here, so the work is faster and much simpler. But the chaos is so close to the DJ booth, with sweaty throngs of dancing partiers, that it can be overwhelming, and the tips are a lot smaller.
Either way, I’m almost done for the night. After I finish here and I’m off the clock, I’m getting out of this outfit and letting loose.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, alerting me to a notification. Pulling it out of the back pocket of my jeans, I see it’s a text from Lana.
Lovie: We’re here. Christos got us the Sinner’s Suite. Now get your big beautiful ass out here so the party can start!
I can’t help but laugh. I wasn’t planning on staying out tonight after my shift, but Lana insisted. She demanded I meet up with her and Christos after their dinner so her boy toy could buy us bottles and treat us to the VIP experience. It’s not nearly the first time one of our dates has taken us out to ‘treat’ us—it’s usually a requirement for Lana to even consider letting them take her out in the first place—but I’m never one to say no to a good time on someone else’s dime. Especially if Lana’s going to be there.
I send her a quick text to give me twenty minutes to clock out and change, and I’ll meet her at the table. Clocking out on the computer and saying goodbye to the other bartender, Jordan, I weave my way through the club toward the dressing room.
Stripping out of my work clothes, I wish I could take a shower to wash my work off before I play. But that’s not an option, so I pull out the packet of baby wipes I keep in my locker to scrub myself down before I get dressed.
Gotta stay fresh.
The dress I brought to change into is a slinky gunmetal gray number with thick spaghetti straps, a square neckline that cuts low across my breasts, and a tie that sinches in my cleavage. The corset bodice accentuates the curve of my waist, the short skirt flairs around my full hips and flutters to just below my round ass. The heels I picked for tonight are chunky black knee-high platform boots with a five-inch heel.
I love these boots; they’re fun, sexy as hell, and remind me of the shoes my Bratz dolls had when I was growing up. They also bring me from my five-foot-seven-inch height to a full six feet tall—and I like being tall. I’m a statement that can’t be ignored.
I lean over the vanity and reapply my lipstick in the mirror. The deep maroon color is rich and vampy, drawing the attention my full lips deserve. Swiping the color on my skin fills me with the same power I felt last night, and the exhilaration makes me smile.
Red my lips, Jonas. And rot in hell.
Popping the cap back on with a click, I unzip my makeup bag to toss the tube back in. It clinks against the other tube inside, one that’s a true vibrant red—Carter. They can get cozy in there together. More will be joining them soon enough.
A few swipes of anti-chafe stick to the insides of my thighs, and a spritz of my favorite sultry perfume are the finishing touches before I’m off to meet my best friend.
The Sinner’s Suite is a private table on an elevated platform above the dancefloor with the other VIP Gold tables. My best friend is sitting with a fit man dressed to the nines. Lana stands from the curved red velvet sofa to meet me at the bottom of the stairs.
“There you are! I was about to come find you, you look gorgeous,” she gushes, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the table. “Come get some champagne. We got the good stuff. And you have to meet Christos. He’s dying to meet you.”
“He’s dying to meet me?” I repeat with some added skepticism. From the way Lana has talked about him, the only two things the man is obsessed with are her and himself.
“Duh! I never shut up about you, so it’s only fair that he gets to meet the real love of my life.” Lana looks over her shoulder to flash me a wink and blow me a kiss, making me laugh.
“Alright then,” I say, flipping my hair over my shoulder. “Let’s go meet my competition.”
It’s Lana’s turn to laugh as we approach the table. She leans in closer, lowering her voice as much as she can with the music.
“Trust me, babe, there’s no competition.” Her smile turns dreamy. “Although, he does call me his ‘star’. Astéri.” With that, she turns on her megawatt smile and addresses the man of the hour—greeting him like they’ve been apart for weeks instead of minutes. “Christos! Hi, baby.”
Christos pulls Lana in for a kiss, his arm circling her waist to rest on her round hip. When he pulls back, he turns to focus on me. His thick black hair is styled back from his chiseled face, perfectly suited for his bronze complexion and mediterranean features. He’s tall, meeting my eyeline in my heels, and I can tell that he’s well-built—and from what Lana’s told me, well endowed. There aren’t any labels on his clothes, but there’s no question that they’re designer—he has real money, it’s not just for show.
“This is my other half, Jill,” Lana says brightly.
“Hi,” I say with a smile.
“Jill, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Christos’ whiskey-brown eyes sweep over me from head to toe, and he gives a little nod of appreciation.
He’s obviously obsessed with Lana’s plus-size body, so I’m not too surprised that he finds me attractive in some way too. I have no problem being appreciated by a man, especially as handsome and rich as Christos is.
But if he’s looking for a threesome, that’s not going to happen. I don’t fuck with my best friend—I value our friendship too much to jeopardize it for a messy ménage à trois. Christos is Lana’s boy toy, so letting him buy me a night of drinks and dancing is as far as I’ll ever go.
“Let’s get you some champagne,” Christos announces, gesturing over a bottle girl named Remi to fill a glass for me. As I accept the glass and take a generous sip, Christos continues. “Lana said you just got off work, and I figured you might be hungry, so I had some sushi delivered.”
Some is not the word to describe the amount of sushi arranged on the table in front of me. Between the assortment of sushi rolls, sashimi, nigiri, and temaki, he clearly ordered one of everything on the menu. I lift my eyes from the table to meet Lana’s, and she nods—a delighted sparkle in her pretty hazel eyes.
“I don’t like very many people, Christos. But you’re off to a good start.” I reach for a piece of an unagi roll and eat it in one bite. A proud grin lights up Christos’ face when my eyes roll back in exaggerated appreciation at the flavor.
That is damn good.
“Excellent,” he says, turning to Lana as the song changes to something with a heady beat. “Dance with me, astéri.”
Lana joins Christos, plastering her body against his as she moves with the music. I toss back the rest of my champagne and pop another piece of sushi into my mouth before I stand up to join them. The beat pulsates through the air, vibrating through the floor until it resonates in my chest.
Accepting another glass of bubbly when it’s offered to me, I don’t stop moving. Lifting the glass to my lips, my gaze collides with a dark pair of eyes and I falter. Awareness prickles over me at the sight of the man watching me so intently that I can feel his eyes on my skin.
Gage sits reclined on the sofa at the VIP table a few yards away, sharp eyes following my every movement as if I’m the only other person in the world. Even when his friend—Anders, from the VIP lounge the other night—walks up to join him at the table and greets him, Gage’s eyes never stray from me.
He’s watching me again.
Again? No, still.
The unadulterated attention settles through me until every nerve is standing on end. It’s both intoxicating and irritating. When he cocks his head to the side and smirks at me, annoyance sparks into anger as liquid desire pools between my legs.
Fuck him.
Fuck me.
A fiery cocktail of lust and indignation pour through me, making me both horny and spiteful. Ripping my eyes away, I turn back to my friend and her date. By the time I see the bottom of my second glass of champagne, some of the tension has eased from my body.
After the third glass, I don’t care so much that he’s watching as I dance and laugh. And the first round of shots leaves just me, my friends, and the music.
Gage can lurk and watch me all he wants, I don’t mind. I’d watch me too. Every time my eyes meet his, the desire to fuck him grows stronger. Just like the urge to end him.