Inside, the world explodes, the lights strobe fast, and the bass of the music shakes the floor, the crowd pulsing and shifting, sweat-slicked bodies, perfume hanging heavy, drowning under spilled liquor.
I let it roll over me, and scan the place, and there he is: Henry Lane.
He’s laughing, head tilted back, teeth flashing. Blonde hair, hazel eyes, button-down shirt rolled to the elbows. He has a casual charm; he looks like the type of guy you would trust.
His friends call him Headmaster. Private administrator at three colleges, but he’s known for locking doors behind him and raping girls who seek him for help. They all laugh about it, and no one tries to stop him, even when the girls leave his office crying and bleeding.
My cousin cried for two hours before she could choke out the truth: it wasn’t one man, it was four. One night and her life was gone. Justice shrugged and looked away, but I didn’t.
I walk through the crowd slowly. Every step places me where I need to be… in his line of sight. I shed the jacket and let the top hug tight across my chest, let my hips move with the rhythm, and I turn, trying my best to look sexy. The hours of dance classes did help.
Henry’s eyes find me, but I don’t look away, and his lips curl into a smirk. He nudges one of his friends, sayssomething, and they all look, that predatory glint in their eyes. I turn around, giving them my back, hips swinging, and silver hair swishing with the rhythm of my movements. I head to the bar and order something pink and sugary. I stir it with the straw, licking it just as I feel someone slide up behind me. I look up at the mirror behind the bar, and there he is: my prey.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says, right at my ear, with a warm breath that smells like whiskey.
I smile and turn my head just enough to meet his eyes. “Hi there.”
His hand slides immediately to my waist without permission, like my reply means consent.
“Never seen you here before,” he says.
“I just moved,” I reply, voice sweet and soft. “Spent the whole day unpacking. Thought I deserved a reward.”
His grip tightens. “So you’re looking for some fun.”
He leans on the bar, drink in hand. His eyes do another slow drag over me. He thinks he’s in control, and he thinks I want this, which means the plan is working, and I’m one hell of an actress.
“Are you here alone?” I ask, tilting my head.
“Just the guys. Nobody that matters,” he says, lowering his voice to sound sexier.
The amount of strength I have not to roll my eyes is astonishing, so instead, I trail my fingersdown his arm, slow enough to feel the goosebumps rise. “Then let’s skip the hour of fake flirting. You saw me. I saw you. Let’s not pretend we don’t already know where this ends.”
He blinks once, eyes wide, looking like I fucking broke him, but his lips curl into a dangerous smirk. He turns around, lifts a hand, and his friends respond, all fake smiles. I take the moment to brush the rim with my thumb and let a pinch of powder fall, disappearing into the glass before he even turns.
“Finish it,” I say, smiling wider. “It’s too expensive.”
“I can buy twenty more.” He chuckles but still drains it in one swallow. “Back door,” he says, already reaching for my hand, he pulls me through the crowd to the back door.
I already knew he would take this route.
Henry holds the door like a gentleman in a movie. I walk past him, fingers grazing his chest, and he grabs me, closes the door with his foot, and spins me into the brick, hands on my ass and mouth on my neck. He’s breathing hard, already worked up from the idea of being bad.
“You smell so fucking good,” he groans.
I stare over his shoulder, counting paint cracks so my heartbeat stays steady, but his hands go higher, his mouth meets mine, and he moans. I almost gag.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One… nothing.
Shit, I need to up the dose on this thing!
I try to push away, but he barely moves. He goes for my earlobe and bites it. “Your skin tastes so sweet,” he pants, and I laugh, push him again and, finally, he stumbles.
“You alright?” I ask, voice light, head tilted.
“Yeah.” He plants one hand on the wall and blinks a couple of times; his pupils are blown wide. “Just a little dizzy.”
“You only had one drink.” I hold him up, pretending to care.
