“I’ll get Stormi and we’ll all go together,” Ace says. “Come on, she’s already waiting for us. She really wants to see Brenda, so you’ll be doing her a favor and making it all easier in one fell swoop.”
This time he is being a little sarcastic, but Blaze is still gripping my arm and looking pointedly into my eyes, silently demanding that I agree.
“Fine,” I say and shake his arm off. “But it’s on you if my presence there starts something.”
“No, it’s not,” Blaze says. “You’ll make sure of it.”
I hate it, but he’s right. I’m not gonna put any of them in danger, not for helping me.
As I follow Ace and Blaze onto the highway and then along a winding road to a residential area overlooking Vegas, I’m still not sure I’m not gonna just speed off and go on my own. It’s not until we pull up in front of a two-story house with a small, neatly trimmed front lawn, and a long-legged blonde whoops and runs into Ace’s arms that I understand I’m not gonna do that. I look away as he lifts her us and she wrapping her legs tight around his waist while they kiss like the world is ending. A very pale woman with short white hair is standing by the porch railing of the house Stormi flew out of. She looks like a ghost, but a friendly one, given how serenely she’s smiling at Stormi and Ace. Blaze must be thinking he’s watching a ghost too, seeing as he can’t tear his eyes off her. He’s always been the superstitious type, and I’m fully expecting him to turn to me and say something about bad omens and such that seeing ghosts brings, but he’s very silent and has trouble looking away from the pale woman even after Stormi and Ace are ready to leave. She noticed him, waved, and smiled, and that could be why he’s walking like he’s half asleep. I’ve never seen him react to a woman like that. Ever. But it’s probably just something to do with his stupid superstitions he’s always so full of, and I’m sure he’ll snap out of it before we get to the Kings’ clubhouse. And Brenda. I might not even say anything to her. I might just kiss her first. She can send me to hell all she wants after I get one last kiss. That sounds like a very good idea to me right now, so it’s a good thing the others are with me to prevent it.
Brenda
The door is locked, but the window opens. The only trouble there is that it’s three stories up. But I’ll jump before I get taken to the truck stop whorehouse. Monarch owns at least three of those in and around Vegas. The first thing any club girl learns about is those, and that she’ll end up in one of them if she so much as puts a toe of line. Being Monarch’s mistress and cheating on him qualifies as that.
But I’m still alive, still mostly unharmed, and Monarch seems to want to believe my story. I just need to get out of this room for long enough to make a run for it. I just need that little chance.
I’ve been able to walk pretty steadily all day and the lump on my forehead is only the size of a quail’s egg now, no longer the potato it was. A huge bruise is spreading from it down across my left eyes, and along my nose almost to my lips. But make-up will fix that. The vision in my left eye is almost back to normal, with only a little fuzziness at the edges of my vision back. A few more days and I’ll be able to run. For now, I gotta focus on getting myself to the start line.
My side of the huge, cherry wood closet that takes up an entire wall of Monarch’s bedroom is still filled with my clothes and shoes. Some of the shoes are missing heels and are otherwise shredded like a young dog got to them, and some of my clothes are ripped up and ruined, but it’s all neatly folded, hung up, or stored pretty much how I left it. Decidedly odd.
My makeup drawer in the bathroom is in a similar shape. Mirrors, eye shadows, and powders cracked, yet neatly placed one next to the other—much more neatly than I ever kept stuff in here. Brushes and combs are broken, but their stubs are all there.
It’s as though someone—Monarch?—trashed all my stuff and then felt sorry for it and put it all back. It could only have been him. No one else touches his things. Back in the day that included me as well. I figured he’d never forgiven me for cheating on him. Never. But seeing all my stuff still in this room and the state it was in, a new plan formed in my mind. He wants to believe I hadn’t cheated on him willingly, that I want him and only him. He would take me back if I made him believe that’s the truth.
It’s my only way out, so I better put on the best show of my life.
I’m breathing hard, my head once again throbbing ominously and my stomach protecting by the time I’m all dolled up. I’m wearing the sequined dark blue dress that glimmers like the night sky under the lights in the clubhouse. The front of it is tight and short, the skirt barely covering my inner thighs, but the back is long and flowing like a wedding dress, only trashier, and more beautiful. It’s one of the first things I bought when I hooked up with Monarch and it’s still, to date, the most expensive single item of clothing I’ve ever gotten. It’s a little big on me with all the weight I’ve lost, but it still flows and shimmers very nicely.
The sky outside is dark and I can hear music, laughter, and shouts coming from the clubhouse bar, which I can’t see from the windows since it’s on the other side of this building.
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, ignoring the increased throbbing in my head as I struggled to put the finishing touch on this outfit. The sky-high, dark blue patent leather stilettos. I’m not sure I’ll even be able to stand in them, let alone walk, but I’ve never yet done a thing half-way, especially not an outfit, and I’m not about to start now.
I stand to give it a try when the door suddenly, Monarch standing there. Two of his henchmen are behind him, one on each side. I’m sure that doesn’t bode well for me.
But the completely star-struck look on Monarch’s face might. He stopped dead in the doorway, his wide-open eyes fixed on me and glowing, his mouth slightly open, his arms and whole body frozen mid-step.
“I wanted to look nice for you the next time you came to see me,” I coo. “What do you think, baby?”
If I was just a little steadier on my feet, I’d twirl for him, but as it is, I don’t want to spoil this vision by falling flat on my ass.
“I’m not wearing anything underneath,” I whisper. “Just the way you like it.”
“Leave me,” Monarch says to his two henchmen. They look very confused right before he slams the door in their faces.
He strides towards me without breaking eye contact. It’s impossible to read his eyes, but the aura around him is lust. I think I have him.
And as he grabs my lower back and kisses me, I’m pretty sure I’m right.
His kiss is nothing like Colt’s. It’s not even in the same ballpark. Hell, it’s not in the same world. I felt a pinch of guilt over kissing another man, but this is hardly a kiss compared to what me and Colt shared. Hell, it hardly qualifies as a touch compared to that.
I think thinking of Colt made my eyes all lovey and soft, because Monarch smiles as he gazes into my face.
“No use wasting this outfit on the bedroom,” he says. “Come down with me, let’s show them all that my princess is back.”
I never got over how incest-y it sounds when he calls me that, given that he’s the “king”, but I’ve never mentioned it to him either. I let him lead me past the two still very confused men in the hallway. His hand on my lower back is gently steering me, and I’m thanking my lucky stars, bursting inside with joy over how easy this was while letting nothing of it show on my face as I follow him to the clubhouse.