Page 1 of Wrong Pawn. Right Capo.

Prologue: Elena

Present Day

The cold bites straight through my coat the second I step out of the studio, but it does nothing to soothe the lingering ache between my thighs.

Three nights ago, I was bouncing on a masked stranger’s cock, and my body still hasn't forgotten the wrecking he gave me.

Shutting my eyes against the freezing wind, I let the memory flood my senses. The guy was just massive—a complete, mind-numbing weapon. I can still feel the weight of him, and the way he thrust into me, hard and fast.

Those thick arms stretching his white shirt to the limit, those dark eyes locked on mine, the heat off his tan skin, the chestnut hair slicked back except for a stubborn strand that fell over his forehead. And fuck… the sheer size of him.

My clit pulses just thinking about it. That kind of cock could easily leave a girl completely ‘cocknotized.’ Long, girthy, and wrapped in thick veins… I mean, honestly, that size should require a federal permit just to carry it around.

One look at him at that masquerade party, and I knew he wasn’t like the rest of the rich fuckers showing off their old money. He practically radiated power and looked seriously dangerous. His name was Zeus... what a fitting name. He looked exactly like a god who was used to getting whatever he wanted.

Focus, Elena. Daydreaming about a god’s size won’t pay the bills.

I open my eyes back to the reality of the dark parking lot. It’s 10:30 p.m., the kind of chilly New York night that feels like needles dragging across skin.

“Hey sexy, wanna come home with me tonight?”

My stepmother used to say that as a beautiful lady, you’re never alone. Sometimes I wish it weren’t true. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and tan skin are a recipe for attention.

The chapped, groggy voice makes me cringe, and I turn around to the sight of a strange man leering at me. He’s tall and pale with a neck as thin as my patience. Even in the dark, I can tell he’s eye-fucking me… but he’s the least of my worries right now.

You’d think that a girl can get a break after eight hours of posing, arching, stretching, and prancing. But no… there’s always some miserable bastard who thinks you only exist for pleasure and are worth nothing beyond your looks.

Choosing to ignore him, I dig into my pockets for my phone before dialing my driver. For the umpteenth time tonight, I’m met with the annoying robotic voice.

This is Peter. Leave a message.

“You know I could pay you real good,” the man continues, much to my displeasure. “I could even pay extra if you suck my dick,” he hoots again and, this time, starts toward me.

I shake my head but remain unmoving. He’s either really courageous, stupid, or blind because anyone can see the two hefty bodyguards standing a few feet behind me.

“Back off.” Both of my bodyguards say simultaneously and quickly step in front of me, and I release a sigh. Yet another inconvenience I have to deal with.

Being babysat by bodyguards is one of the most aggravating things in life. It’s something about the weight of their eyes… the feeling of being caged. They’d tell you where to stand, sit… hell, they could even tell you whom to fuck.

And as someone who has spent most of her life trying to keep the smallest pieces of freedom, I hate it. I sigh. Back in New Jersey, where I had moved about four years ago—after I took a business loan from my sister, Bella—I was free. But apparently, now I need these bodyguards for protection.

Unsurprisingly, the man hesitates but doesn’t back down immediately, despite looking like a malnourished lamppost compared to my two bodyguards.

A slow exhale pulls from my lips as I tune out of their shenanigans. That’s one thing about men, they’re persistent, narcissistic, and don’t care about anyone or anything except their selfish desires… just like my late father. I hope he is burning in hell.

It’s why I swore to never get involved with men in the first place. Well, until three nights ago when I’d thrown aside all morals and let a stranger wreck me completely. And a masked one at that!

My phone vibrates in my hands, snatching me back to reality. I look at the screen and let out a breath of relief. It’s Peter!

“I’m so sorry, ma’am, the car broke down. I’m on my way now,” he says once I pick up.

I let out a sigh. “Just hurry, please.”

Shuffling on my already sore heels, I end the call and glance at the time. It’s a few minutes to eleven. Instinctively, I turn to see that the leering stranger has gone before whirling around to see the transparent glass of the studio. I’d been working in here with my make-up artist and photographers to take pictures for my beauty brand, and as usual, I was the last to leave.

But you can’t fault a girl for trying to push her newest setting spray… for working so hard to beat the odds and achieve her goals.

The wind picks up, blowing strands of hair into my face. My attention drifts back to Zeus, but before I can conjure images of his dick in my head, I hear a loud bang. A gasp lodges in my throat when I turn around to the sight of a guard falling limply to the concrete.