2
I’ve studied the images. I’ve followed the lines of her bountiful curves, the dips and flares of her thighs, her hips. I’ve watched videos. I’ve witnessed her beauty through those, seen it already with my own two eyes, and even then, I thought she was a beautiful woman, but seeing her here, in a dress that barely covers her sinfully delectable body, with her delicately painted tattoos and wild red hair, I was caught off guard, unprepared for what she could look like face to face.
The legs, the body, the face with the mass of copper curls and the innocent eyes.
The innocent eyes.No one is innocent, there is always something they are guilty for, we are all sinners here but there’s something about the way the innocence looks on her that almost makes me feel guilty.
Almost.
I laugh at myself. Emotion. I lost that a long time ago. The guilt tugs at the corners of my mind, trying to push in but I shut that shit out. Just like I was taught. The girl is a means to an end. The need for vengeance far outweighs a crisis of conscience. I am not a man of morality, and it wasn’t physically possible for a woman like her to suddenly arouse any sense of right and wrong. We didn’t get to be where we were with integrity or decency.
She’s gorgeous, I can appreciate that, but in this walk of life I encounter beautiful women all the time, I have them on my arm, in my bed, impaled on my cock and screaming my name. There was nothing special about her apart from the purpose in which I needed her for.
I glance down at my phone, looking at the image on the screen.
Wren.
Twenty-three, recent graduate with honors.
Smart girl.
Andexactlywho it is I need.
The plan has been in the works for six months now, and we’re finally in the last stretch.
My father hasn’t been the same since the night my mother was murdered, and it’s been on me to keep going. I stepped up. It’smyfucking time and I’m going to start it by sending a message.
A message to show no mercy, no pity. There will be no question from here on out who rules this city. I am King.
And they’re all going to fucking know it.
I push off the stool, my eyes still trained on her back, following the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, the swell of her ass and allow myself, just for a moment, to picture how her plump lips would look wrapped around my dick. It’s a shame such potential will end up buried in a six foot ditch.
Marcus Valentine was smart, I’d give him that,ifI could give him anything.
I knew exactly where she would end up tonight, after all, it was my plan this entire time, and there was no way I was letting her slip from my fingers.
Leaving her in the cocktail bar with her friend, I head down the street to Club Silver. Music thumps from the building, filling the street in both directions and I head right for the front doors, slipping in past Matthew who nods at me and continues checking ID’s at the door.
The dim lighting of the club casts me in shadows and instead of weaving the crowd that grinds and gyrates to the nineties music that blasts from the speakers I cut left and head through a door, camouflaged to look like it’s part of the wall, one that is marked Storage but drops to a steep stairwell that will take me beneath the club. There were only two doors that will get me down here, this one and a second one outside. The concrete is thick, the music above only a steady thump as I descend, vibrating the walls.
A second club opens up before me, one not known to the people above, to the simple mundane citizens of this city, one where deals go ahead, gambling, girls in scantily clad gear that rub up against men in suits with lines of coke dusting the tables and offered on silver platters. A place where blood is as common as the soil lining a flower bed and corruption is what fills the pockets of this city’s most influential people.
A girl wearing red lace lingerie struts towards me, her skin almost glowing beneath the lighting, a smirk lifting the corners of her red painted mouth as she offers out a tray. Right alongside the scotch are two lines of the white shit and I debate, I really do, but with the need to have my head in the plan I bypass it for this evening.
I take a glass and throw it back, draining the amber liquid inside before taking the second and leaving the drugs.
“Anything else?” She asks in a low sultry voice, her eyes hooded, the long lashes she’s applied casting shadows over her cheeks. She thrusts her chest out, the half-moons of her breasts spilling out of the cups that hold the rest of her in. “Does the boss need a little relaxation perhaps?”
I couldn’t have any distractions tonight, I wasn’t risking my plan.
“Another time,” I tell her, leaning in to whisper the words in her ear, “make sure to find me when I’m next here.”
“Yes sir,” she breathes and I step back, eyeing the athletically toned body, slim, long legs and narrow hips.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Josie,” she answers.