I need something that will make every head turn, every man drool with desire. Something that will make me forget, even if just for a moment, the anger and frustration boiling inside me.
“Good evening, Miss Caldwell. How may I assist you today?”
I turn to see a sales manager approaching me, her sleek black hair pulled back into a tight bun, her red lips stretched into a polite smile.
“I need a dress that will make me look like sex on a stick,” I say bluntly, not in the mood for small talk. “Something that will have every man in the room eating out of the palm of my hand.”
The sales manager blinks, taken aback by my brashness. But she quickly recovers, her smile never wavering. “Of course, Miss Caldwell. I have just the thing.”
She leads me to a rack near the back of the store, filled with dresses in rich, jewel-toned colors. She pulls out a slinky red number, the fabric shimmering under the soft lighting.
“This one is sure to turn heads,” she says, holding it up for me to inspect. “The cut is both elegant and seductive, and the color will complement your skin tone beautifully.”
I take the dress from her, feeling the smooth satin glide between my fingers. It’s exactly what I’m looking for.
“I’ll try it on.”
She nods and escorts me to the dressing rooms, her heels clicking on the marble floor. I step inside and slide the lock into place, quickly stripping off my clothes.
I slip the dress over my head, the fabric hugging my curves like a second skin. I turn to face the mirror, my breath catching in my throat.
The dress is stunning. The deep V-neckline plunges down to my navel, revealing a tantalizing hint of cleavage. The skirt is fitted through the hips and thighs before flaring out into a mermaid silhouette, the hem brushing the tops of my feet. A daring slit runs up the side, nearly reaching my hip bone.
But it’s the back that really steals the show. Or rather, the lack thereof. The dress is completely backless, dipping down to the dimples just above my ass. It’s the kind of dress that demands attention, that screams confidence and sensuality.
“Allow me to say, you look absolutely stunning this evening,” the woman gushes as I step out of the dressing room. “Like a goddess stepping into the mortal world.”
I smirk, preening under her praise.
I know I look good.
With my tanned skin, toned curves, and luscious brown hair, I’ve never had trouble turning heads.
And in this dress? I’ll have men falling at my feet.
After the clusterfuck of a day I’ve had, I deserve a little fun. And if that fun happens to involve a hot, sweaty hookup or two? Even better.
My aim tonight: just have fun with one of those rich, arrogant pricks that frequent the high-end clubs downtown. The kind of men who think they’re God’s gift to women, who believe they can have anyone they want with a snap of their fingers.
I’ll show them who’s really in control. I’ll have them begging for a taste of me, desperate for just a single touch. And when I’m done with them? I’ll toss them aside like the used condoms they are.
If men can stick their dicks into any willing hole they please, then I sure as hell can act the same. I’m not some delicate little flower, content to sit at home and wait for a man to pluck me. I take what I want when I want it.
“I’ll take it,” I tell the satisfied-looking woman, not even bothering to glance at the price tag.
Money is no object, not when Daddy foots the bill.
“Turn left at the next intersection,” I say, glancing at the address Stephan scribbled on the scrap of paper.
The car’s engine hums a low, steady rhythm as we cut through the darkening streets. Mitch’s hands grip the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. I can feel his disapproval without even looking at him, but I don’t give a damn.
“Where’s this place?” Mitch asks, eyes locked straight ahead.
“The Viper’s Nest,” I say, tossing the slip of paper back into my purse. It’s Stephan’s latest find—a secret spot not yet poisoned by my father’s reach.
Mitch keeps quiet, stopping at a traffic light. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, a sure sign he’s brewing over something he wants to say. I can almost hear his thoughts from here—he’s about to tell me it’s a bad idea. His whole vibe screams he’s not thrilled about me hitting the club tonight.
Ignoring Mitch, I lean back against the plush leather seat, smoothing my hands over the silky fabric of my dress. The Versace gown clings to me, the daring slit up the side revealing a tantalizing glimpse of toned thigh.
