Prologue
Lottie
Shoving off the sofa, Lottie headed straight for her bedroom closet. Buried in the back, hidden behind everyday clothes and forgotten shoes, was a hanging garment bag. Inside it wastheoutfit—one she’d originally lent to Sway. Her best friend had tried it on only once. That had been enough. Sway had returned it without a second thought; certain Lottie would find the right moment to wear it.
That moment was tonight.
She wasn’t about to waste a dress like that on just anyone, but being newly single had its perks. No rules. No expectations. Just her, and the chance to remind herself exactly who she was.
Lottie slid the hangers to the side, fingers brushing fabric until she reached the bag. She pulled it out carefully, laid it on the bed, and unzipped it with deliberate slowness. A flash of blood-red vinyl gleamed through the opening like a promise.
Dragging the dress free, she hung it on the closet door. It clung to the hanger with sultry weight, the corset bodice curving like it already knew her body.
Tonight, she’d wear it for no one but herself—and that made it hotter than anything else.
Staring at the dress, Lottie tilted her head and thought,Why not?There was no real reasonnotto wear it.
“Fuck it.”
She was going out, and she was going to have a damn good time. Tonight was for thecome fuck medress and heels that practically screamedbend me over, please.
After a hot shower, she styled her jet black hair and did her makeup in her signature look—sharp, smoky, and unapologetically bold.
Sliding into the dress, she felt decadent. Dangerous. A little dominant. All three were words people used to describe her on a regular basis, and tonight she was leaning into all of them.
She stepped into her black spiked stilettos and crossed to the full-length mirror. One look and her lips curled into a wicked smile.
“Damn. I look hotter than normal.”
Laughing under her breath, she grabbed her black coat from the closet and slipped it on, buttoning it up just enough to hide the fire underneath. Purse in hand, she headed for the door before she could talk herself out of it.
Lottie reached the door, hand hovering over the knob. She stood there for a moment, silent, motionless. Then she sighed—sharp, tired, and turned away.
Back in the bedroom, she peeled off the dress, its slick material sliding down her body like a second skin she suddenly didn’t want to wear. She stepped out of it and returned it to the garment bag with care that felt too tender for how she really felt. The shoes went back in their box, tucked neatly beside the bag. She slid both into the closet and shut the door.
She just… didn’t have it in her tonight. Not anymore. Not since her ex-boyfriend had kidnapped and tortured Sway. That night had carved something out of her. Something hard to name.
How the hell was she supposed to trust men again? It had been ten months since everything changed for Sway, and by extension, for her too.
Tesh’s death had opened the door for the Royal Bastards to enter their lives, and with them came a flood of complications, protection, chaos... maybe even something good. She hadn’t decided yet.
But what shedidknow was that the girl who used to throw on a dress and walk into the night like she owned it hadn’t been back since.
In the past, she would’ve picked up the phone and called Sway. Crying into her best friend’s shoulder until the ache in her chest felt a little less raw. But those days felt like a lifetime ago.
Since they’d left the safe house, she and Sway had barely spoken. When they did, it was always Lottie who reached out. The replies she got in return were cold and clipped. Nothing more than oneor two-word answers. Nothing likeherSway. It made her sick. It made her sad.
Losing that connection had dimmed something in her—a light that used to keep the rest of her world in color. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find the silver lining. The silence between them felt permanent.
Slipping into her pajamas, Lottie padded into the bathroom. The soft overhead light cast a tired glow over her face as she stared at her reflection.
She gathered her long hair into a high ponytail, pinning back her bangs with practiced hands. Then she reached for the little plastic box beside the sink, pulled out a cleansing wipe, and began scrubbing off her war paint.
Stroke by stroke, her confidence disappeared. So did the version of her who used to believe everything could be fixed.
Not wanting to sit in the silence of her home any longer, Lottie remembered one of the nurses at the clinic had mentioned needing someone to cover the late shift.Why not?At least it would get her out of the house. Stepping out of the bathroom, she grabbed her phone and quickly dialed the clinic.
“Clinique de Villa.”
