Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Corinne
NEXT IN THE RUINED KINGS WORLD
Ithink I might be in trouble.
Glancing at the outfit I'm meant to wear, anxiety claws at my belly. It's a short, collared babydoll dress the approximate shade of a flamingo on acid. Made of a sparkly Spandex material, it's beside a pair of platform Mary Janes and silky white knee-high stockings. Who picked out this outfit?
Some freak who likes dressing grown women up as baby dolls, no doubt.
But I want to be here, even if I don't like the outfit. I used every single tool in my arsenal. Lying, flirting, sabotaging another contest hopeful who made the mistake of asking me where to go to apply. Everything I've learned in my twenty-four years of life as a hustler went into this scheme.
Because I'm helping the one person who's never asked me for anything.
Laying my outfit down on the unmade single bed, I turn to the mirrored vanity. Sinking down into the director's chair, I assess the variety of makeup there for me to choose from. A few simple eyeliner pens. Eyeshadow in sparkly neon colors. Bright pink blush and lipstick.
Usually, I would stay away from bright colors.
The point of peacocking is for people to notice you, to remember your face.
And I don't like to draw that kind of attention unless necessary.
A hustler rarely wants their victims to remember details that they can blab to the cops. But today is different.
Today, I want to make everyone stop and stare. To make the men want me. Especially the one man that I must seduce in order to win this little game: the owner of the sex club I'm standing in. He's my target tonight.
Through the partially-opened door to my dressing room, I hear a man's voice. "—can't believe what we're about to do. The first room is going to knock out half of the women."
I keep applying makeup, mindful of the giant LED clock above the door. Fifty-six minutes, seventeen seconds until I have to be ready.
"It's gonna be hot, though. Have you seen the room setup?" another man says.
"No. I want to be surprised."
The first man snorts. "You'll be surprised, all right. I fully expect a couple of the girls to drop out before—"
His voice moves down the hall. I jump up, running to the door to catch more of their conversation. But they're gone.
I press my eye to the opening. Across the hall, I see a flash of a woman in exercise shorts stretching her legs, warming up for the Initiation. Does she know something that I don't? Or is she just trying to be prepared?
Fuck. Please don't let me regret entering this contest. I turn around, getting a jumpscare from the girl that stares back at me from the mirror. Short, brunette, petite, and wearing makeup that's applied so thickly that she is almost a stranger to me. I reach a trembling hand up to touch my bluntly cut bob. A recent enough change that I’m still getting used to it. And a tiny beauty mark above my lip. I thought of covering it, hiding it while I’m on this mission.
But when I read the rules of the Initiation, it became clear as day that any makeup might be washed away.
So my beauty mark stays right where it is.
The only jewelry I wear is a faint gold chain with a cursive letter C dangling from it. I finger the chain. It was a gift from my benefactor for my twenty-first birthday. Along with the slender golden stiletto blade in my pocket.
A reminder to always stay sharp.
So even if this competition turns out to be another bad idea, a leap-first, look-never venture, I refuse to be uncertain about it.
"Hustlers need confidence," I tell my reflection. "You can crush this. You will crush this."
The brunette stares back at me, her lilac eyes unsure. Not exactly what I'd hoped, but fuck it.
I change out of my leggings and cropped sweatshirt, putting on my costume. If I was hoping for a bra or panties, I'm shit out of luck. A chill runs through me.
The Initiation is a game based on who can run the gauntlet and out-kink everybody else. There will only be one winner.
And I desperately need that win.
After my dress is on, I look down at myself. Where the fuck am I supposed to keep my knife? The dress is too short for a thigh holster. My mouth twists.
I really, really don't want to enter a dangerous competition without it.
But neither do I want to hide the knife in my fricking vagina.
Fuck, if I put two seconds of thought into this before I came, I would have rigged a way to conceal the knife on my person.
My life has taught me to always have an exit.
My way out is often threatening to shish kabob anybody who tries to stop me from doing whatever I want.
With a sigh, I throw my leg up on the bed and insert the sheathed stiletto as far into my pussy as possible. Is it comfortable?
No. Is it safe? Hell no.
But it's secure for now. I call that as good as it gets. After carefully putting on one sock, painfully aware that I might cut myself and bleed out, I sit on the bed and work the second sock on.
My awkwardness is interrupted by my door slamming open.
I look up, my lips parting. Readying myself to tell whoever it is that I have...
shit, twenty-six minutes and forty-three seconds left until the Initiation starts.
But I'm not prepared for Ransom King himself, owner of this place, the Candy Club, and half a dozen other gang-owned nightclubs. He’s tall, dark, well-muscled but lean, wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark slacks.
My mouth instantly dries. Ransom is pretty in a way that says that he'd grind your heart to a pulp beneath his four-thousand-dollar shoes and not think twice about it. His baby blue eyes flash as he steps in and closes the door, prowling toward me.
"I thought I made myself perfectly clear, Corinne."
My chin lifts, my hands gather into fists. I was expecting to see him when the game began. But now he's here, in my dressing room, challenging me.
“Ransom! Nice of you to stop in.” My cheeks heat even as I tease the boss who, as far as I can see, has zero sense of humor. What can I say? My whole life, I’ve barely been able to resist kicking hornets’ nests when I stumble across them.
And Ransom is alive with anger, fury stamped on his handsome face. It’s impossible not to want to fuck with him.
“What are you doing here? You’re not even supposed to know that this place exists.” His jaw tics, his entire body is tense. He almost makes it too easy.
I cock my head as if I’m puzzled. "I heard you before. But I need the prize money." Not exactly a lie. Who couldn't use the million dollars that he and his gang are dangling as tempting bait for the Initiation?
Ransom's eyes narrow to slits. He stalks forward as I step back until I run out of space, my ass bumping into the vanity. I peer up at him. His shirt is unbuttoned at the collar and I can see the dark swirls of ink peeking out. His muscular forearms are densely packed with tattoos too. Yum.
His whole body screams I'm a very bad boy. I suck in my bottom lip and tilt my head as I think about how he could probably fuck me until I screamed if we weren't angling for the opposite things in this game.
Isn't that always the way?
"What could you need the money for? You willingly signed a contract that specifies that we can do anything to you? That’s insane." He darts out a hand, stepping closer and brushing his fingertips up my jaw.
He smells like cedar and a hint of mint. Clenching my jaw, I jerk my head, shaking off his touch. "Maybe it's for a really expensive purse. You don't know."
One of his brows rises. "Somehow, I think not."
"Wouldn't matter to you if that's what I wanted it for, though. You don’t even like me."
“Oh, Corinne.” His eyes burn into mine. "Is this your way of trying to get a raise out of me?"
I huff out a laugh. I've only worked at the Candy Club for a month, but every night I leave with two grand in tips. This job pays better than I could have ever expected.
"Would you give me a raise if I asked?" I flutter my eyelashes.
"No." A faint trace of amusement clings to his lips.
"Maybe I would promote you, though." He skims his fingers along my shoulder, his eyes dipping down to take in my dress.
My nipples are tiny diamonds poking through the shimmery pink garment.
"I've never taken a mistress, but that would be an interesting discussion. "
Shivering, I focus on those eyes of his. They're dreamy, baby blue with a ring of yellow around his irises. Focus!!
"I'd never say yes," I counter.
Amusement flashes in his face again. "No. You like to make things hard."
"Mhm." My breath hitches. This conversation is making me want things. Things that I can't afford to want. If only he wasn't looking at me so intensely, like I'm both a fascinating puzzle and a bomb he's got to disarm.
I look him up and down. I’m pint-sized; if I had it my way, I’d be a ten-foot-tall ogre ready to smash anybody that came after me. He's tall, my head only coming to below his shoulder.
And noticing that is putting all kinds of ideas in my head. Images of the two of us, pressed together and moaning, of me riding his face, of him fucking me from behind.
My thoughts cause my face to heat. He notices and wonders, "Am I making you blush, Corrinne?"
Ransom is so full of himself. I swear, the guy must really be packing. I've never met anyone as cocky as him. "Dream on."
"If you don't pull out of the Initiation, I won't have to dream." His hand snakes out quickly, grabbing me by the throat and squeezing gently. My body convulses, my pussy instantly soaked.
He doesn't know me at all, but he's hitting me right where it hurts so damn good. I bite my lip, unable to look away from his furious expression.
"You do realize that this contest is to see who can handle all my kinks, don't you?
The winner will be submissive but not boring, brave but not foolish, seductive but still a challenge.
" He grins at me, chilling me and heating me up at the same fucking time.
"And at the end of it all, the winner gets a million bucks and spends a year getting fucked by me.
" His lips purse, considering. "Like the Bachelor, but I’m complete psychopath. "
My eyes widen. No, I didn’t know that little tidbit. Funny how I didn’t get the full picture when the picture included him.
"Wait. You're... the prize?" Spending more time with Ransom is certainly not on my dance card. He's already too close for comfort, soaking my panties, gripping my throat in way that I’ll remember later when I’m alone in my bed.
If he gets any closer, I'm afraid I’ll sleep with him. And there's no way I can open that can of worms. Not when I have a mission of my own.
He smirks. "That's right. You don't want that. You couldn't handle me."
Grinding my teeth, I fire back, "You have no idea what I want."
His big hand, wrapped around my throat, squeezes idly. "You sure?"
Hell no. I want to leave, to run away. But that won't help me find what I need. Ransom's crew may be relatively new to town, but I know that they run arms all over the tri-state area. And where better to hide an art theft ring than inside a gang?
Nowhere.
So I can't cut and run. Running my fingers up the hand that holds my throat, I lay my fingers over his and squeeze.
"Maybe I'm just what you're looking for," I whisper. "I have hidden depths."
"No doubt." He moves closer, almost kissing my lips, and whispers, "Don't say I didn't warn you."
He kisses the corner of my lips and my whole body jerks. Then he releases me, turning away. "See you in the first room, Corinne."
I can only stare at him as he disappears without looking back. The door closes behind him with a snick that’s too much like the ticking of a timed bomb. My hand flutters to my neck which still pulses faintly from where he gripped me. "Fuck."
All my life, my job has been to hustle, to bob and weave, to get away by the skin of my teeth.
But this time, I'm doing the opposite. Digging deeper, lying and scheming to stay, burrowing down to get to the truth. And I'm starting to get the feeling that I'm wildly out of my depth.
“Five minutes." The loudspeaker sounds, scratchy and final, making me jump. "This is your last chance to run. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."
I gulp. I can’t turn back. Not when so much is riding on me winning. Shoving my feet into the shoes, I quickly buckle them. By the time the clock about the door is counting down, I’m shaking.
The loudspeaker crackles. “Start your Initiation.”
The door swings open.
It’s time to go.
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