The Violence Of Becoming (VERSACE #1)

Chapter 1

Peer pressure was a bastard.

Here I was, all dolled up by my best friend in clothes I would never, ever be caught dead in.

What a joke, Vee.

"We are in our final year of school. We should relax." Asvika’s anthem rang in my ear. South-Asian parents, but the most chill brown girl I’d ever met.

Was this freedom? Dressing like a hooligan and going to an occult called ‘club’ to let loose?

Normally I’d pass, but Vika would never allow it. She was a hooligan, after all.

"Oh, hi guys!"

We arrived at our friends’ table and joined the chaos, laughter, clinking glasses, and games. Tonight, Truth or Dare ruled the room.

"Okay, Bella. Your turn."

The bottle faced me. The night already felt dry, and I wasn’t much of a talker.

"Dare," I said firmly. A collective gasp followed. "Bella is so brave!"

No, I wasn’t brave. Fear gripped me at what might come next. My friends were very unpredictable.

"Okay, Bella. I dare you to…” Her eyes scanned the room, searching for the perfect victim. I barely cared.

What was the worst that could happen?

“Go over to that table and pretend to be one of those rich men’s ex-girlfriends. Full-on meltdown style."

Shit.

"Woah! Too much. I’m not doing it." I sipped the whiskey. The burning liquid chased the pride down my throat.

Those men didn’t look like the regular guys you’d see in your neighbourhood. They radiated danger.

My friend pouted. "Oh, Belladonna. Don’t be such a killjoy. The worst he can do is call security. We’re here anyway, ready to swoop in and save you."

My jaw ticked.

"One. My name is not Belladonna, do not call me that. Two, just because I don’t want to be the so-called ‘killjoy’, I’ll do it."

I chugged a finger of whiskey. The heat coursed through me as my heels clicked against the floor, counting down to public humiliation. Sober me would never have done this.

Approaching the VIP table, alcohol loosened my nerves enough to play the part.

The table looked like a menagerie of perfection. Sharp suits, piercing eyes, confidence spilling from every movement. All expensive watches and huge egos. My gaze landed on my target.

Him.

He didn’t join their conversation, didn’t smile along. He only sat there, one arm resting casually along the backrest, long legs stretched like the ground was his footstool. His finger danced along the rim of his glass like he was waiting for time to pass.

And when his gaze finally lifted…

God.

Hazel eyes. The kind of eyes that don’t just see you … they catch you, then trap you.

My breath stalled in my chest, and I swallowed hard.

This was about to top the record of the most stupid things I was pressured to do.

Technically no one was forcing me. There was no fucking gun to my head. I could just walk away. So why was I still standing here?

I was fucking entranced. I wanted to have a conversation with this man, see what made him tick.

This was a bad dare, but I stepped closer anyway.

The moment my heels touched the platform, all eyes turned to me.

His obnoxious friends noticed me first—elbows nudging and eyebrows raising, stupid grins forming on their lips, whispers turning into whistles.

But him?

Nothing.

He just followed me with his eyes, slow and deliberate, like he was watching something approach that he had already predicted minutes ago.

I stopped in front of him.

Big mistake.

He was taller even while sitting down. And I was not a short woman.

I cleared my throat, setting my face and emotions for the stunt I was about to pull.

"Baby…” I placed a hand on his shoulder, “how could you leave me like that, after our wonderful night together?"

His friends whistled.

He raised a hand, signalling for them to hold, yet his eyes never left mine.

"I was so hurt when I didn’t see you. Didn’t you enjoy it too? Or was I not good enough? I really put in my best, you see."

D-Did I know this man?

Not a chance in hell.

He was just a stranger I was dared to kiss, because my nutcase of a best friend was a menace to society.

I stifled a giggle, smug in my little act.

I was actually enjoying this–until he pulled me closer, gripping my waist with unexpected strength. I gasped, stumbling until I was between his knees.

His cologne hit me first; the woody, dark Arabian oud scent surrounding him, wrapped around me before I was in his arms.

"Trust me, love," his voice rolled over me like a bass in my chest. He was older than I expected. "If I truly had a night with you… you wouldn’t be swaying those hips around. And I’d never leave you."

My eyes widened as I tried to search his eyes for the insanity within.

What man in his right legal senses grabs a woman like that?

“I’ll make it easy for you,” he murmured in my ear, his hot breath tickling my earlobes.

Then, without warning, his mouth met mine.

One hand cupped my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth, guiding me into him like he’d always known how I kissed.

My brain short-circuited, sobering me up instantly.

I yanked away faster than light. He smirked; eyes still locked on mine as he leaned back in his seat.

“Next time,” he murmured, hazel eyes burning into me, "don't wait for a dare.”

I was shaking.

Actually shaking.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I’m never playing Truth or Dare again.

Peer pressure was a bastard, but curiosity? That was far worse.

I swayed slightly as I walked back to my table, my friends cheering me on like I'd just won some ridiculous award.

"Belladonna strikes again!" Asvika sang, holding up her glass in mock applause.

I ignored her, gripping the edge of my chair as I sat down.

The bass vibrated beneath my heels, the warmth from the alcohol had started to fade, replaced by a cold knot in my stomach.

I could still feel his hands on my waist, his breath against my skin.

And worse? His voice, deep, smooth, confident, and so unbothered by my stunt, echoed in my mind.

"If I truly had a night with you... you would not be swaying those hips around."

I reached for my drink, only to realize my hand was trembling.

Shit.

“Oh my God, Bella, did you see his face?" One of my friends gushed. "He was totally into it!"

"Yeah, or maybe he's just a freak," I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended.

They had no idea what had transpired there.

I never cussed this much, trust me. I was a refined young lady, but hanging out with my best friend and her fellow hooligan friends was bound to leave a stain.

Asvika narrowed her eyes at me, but before she could say anything, her phone buzzed. "Hold that thought, I got to take this call. Be right back." She winked, grabbing her phone and stepping outside.

I exhaled, grateful for the distraction, and slowly glanced back toward the VIP table.

He was watching me.

The hazel-eyed man—no, the predator—was still seated, his drink untouched, his gaze pinned on me like a hawk sizing up prey. His friends were laughing about something, but he didn’t join them. Not once.

I swallowed hard and turned away, refusing to let my panic show.

"Chill, Bella," I muttered under my breath. "It was a dare. He doesn't care."

But my chest tightened. It wasn't his interest that unnerved me, it was the way he looked at me, like he already knew I had been running for years.

For three years I have been running. From essays now, not the glass cups thrown at my head.

His eyes flashed in my mind.

They resembled the eyes of the men from the past I ran from. The ones that sat at round tables casually discussing their next chaos.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of music, laughter, and drinks I didn't want. By the time we stumbled out of the club, Asvika was giggling uncontrollably, and my heels felt like miniature torture devices.

"You owe me for dragging me into this," I grumbled as we climbed into the cab. “Big time.”

"Relax, Bella. You needed this." She slumped against me, snoring softly before I could argue.

But my nerves refused to settle. Even as the taxi drove off, I couldn't shake the feeling from that kiss.

My fingers brushed against my lips.

He tasted like expensive coffee and mint.

Snap out of it, bitch.

By the time we got home, exhaustion tugged at every muscle, but sleep was far from my mind. Not with the memories clawing at me.

I dragged Asvika all the way to her bedroom, taking off her heels, making sure she was comfortable and hurried to mine.

I was itching to get these clothes off me.

Memories of how he gripped my waist made me shudder.

I went straight to my closet, yanking it open. My eyes immediately landed on the pile of boxes in the corner. The gold V on the lid gleamed under the dim light, as familiar as the dread pooling in my stomach.

I had never opened any of them.

Not the first one, which arrived two days after I walked out of that toxic house three years ago. Not the fifth, which showed up on my 22nd birthday. And certainly not the tenth, which came this morning.

I snapped my gaze away, grabbing my comfiest pyjamas and slamming the closet shut.

I should burn them soon.