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“He must be for downstairs,” the Black woman calls out, gesturing to my clothes. “You’ll have to change first.”

“Downstairs?” Pink pulls me into the room, while the second white woman with long black strands tugs off my hoodie. Cool air slaps my chest, followed by timid fingers caressing my tattoo.

“I’ve seen this before,” she murmurs, but a leather corset is thrown over my shoulders before she says more. Thank God. Pink pulls the straps, and I cough, air stolen.

“Downstairs is where the new performers go,” she explains. “We’ve had a few stragglers come in here confused. That’s where you have to go.”

The Black woman, with a delicate purple wig, flicks my bangs. “You’re not part of Bruno’s property, are you?”

I shake my head. “No. First gig.”

Sadly, she taps my nose. “Make it your last. If you do too well, he’ll try to keep you.”

That’s not comforting.

Pink unbuttons my pants, and I startle, grabbing her wrist in a punishing hold. At my frown, her bottom lip trembles. “You’re going to need to change these. I’m just trying to get you ready.”

“I’ll do it myself.” I’m not keen on random people taking my clothes off. Bad memories.

Turning my back, I slip my boots and jeans off. Pink tsks. “Underwear too.”

Fuck me.

For Valentina, I guess there’s not much I won’t do. Including ignoring the sharp spike of fear at undressing in front of strange women, and biting my tongue at the urge to lash out. It’s not their fault my nanny was a sick freak.

Once I’m changed into the matching leather pants, they hand me a mask. It’s a glorified strip of leather with holes to see through, and green stitching along the edges. It’s uneven, gothic, as if it’s meant for a haunted house, not a sex club. I’m into it.

“What else do I need to know about downstairs?”

Purple points at the door. “Go through the dance floor. There’s a basement door by the stairs. You’re going to head down there. Do you know when you go on or your partner?”

“Partner?”

Pink fixes my corset, adjusting it this way or that. If not for her critical eye, I’d think she was flirting with me. I’d promptly shut that shit down.

“Partner,” Pink repeats. “All acts are done with a partner.”

Revulsion strikes me. I’ll fucking kill him. No hesitation or doubt. Straight up murder Freddie if he’s doing that to my sunshine.

“I don’t know my partner,” I bite out. “Where do I find them?”

Purple shrugs. “Go to the lounge for the performers. It’s the only solid door with a ring of lights around the edges. You can’t get in without a card.” At my look, she snorts. “They really sent you in here with nothing, huh? Here.” She goes to her vanity and grabs a little swipe card. “Use it. When you get in, give it to Tommaso. He’ll make sure I get it back.”

“Tommaso, got it.” I glance at them. “How will I know who that is?”

Pink points to her face. “He’s wearing a bunny mask. It’s to match his partner. Some big deal, I hear,” she gossips, glancing at the silent woman. “Know anything about it, Ruth?”

She shrugs, crossing her arms. “Tommaso told me it’s a first-timer. Something about breaking rules; I’m not sure. He’s pretty excited.”

“Lucky.”

Purple tugs me toward the door. “You need to go before you’re late. You don’t want to see what happens when you are.”

Saluting the women, I catch a quick glance of myself in the mirror. Tall, hunched like a panther, and very foreboding, the mask covers my eyes, while the corset shows off my figure. I’ll admit it—I look hot. Best part? This getup hides my family’s crest.

It’s perfect.

“I’ll see you when I’m done,” I tell them, and a few smile.