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“Cal has me go to him every night. If I don’t, he comes, dragging me from my sacred space like I’m being kept there as a prisoner.” Pru sounds like she’s complaining, but through the mirror I can see the broadest smile. “He’s always seemed so sweet. Smiling, charming, a golden retriever compared to his sadistic brothers. But he’s a lot more of a tyrant than any of us had known.” Pru flops upside down on the red suede couch, legs flung over the backrest, and her head cranks to watch me. “So, why are you doing this again?”

Do I tell her that Cain and I had sex there the other day?

I cover my mouth to conceal my chuckle. I’ll keep that thought to myself.

“It’s just for a little fun.” I finish off my makeup with my purple lipstick, Cain’s favorite and his gift to me. I’ve done my makeup a little darker than usual, moodier. Tonight, I am done with a set of eyelashes, eyeliner, mascara, and a faint, cooler-toned blush. It took hours, but I created my vision: a deep plum, long-sleeved, turtleneck bodysuit top lined with black lace that reaches to cover my feet, and a plum lace wrap skirt. Combined with my hair braided into a crown, soft tendrils escaping here and there, I look like a decoration, an ornament, or a gothic princess.

Cain’s Purple Princess.

“It’s fun to piss off Cain?” Pru rolls over onto her front, knees bent so that her toes nearly touch the back of her head, and her arms stretched out as they cross one another.

“I don’t think that will happen,” I say, sitting perched on the arm of the couch. Cain is used to me being on stage, and even though this is burlesque night, I’m not participating like the other performers. I’m well covered, literally from neck to toe. Although my outfit is fitted, it leaves plenty to the imagination. Even if we still had our dynamic, this would fit within his guidelines for how I dress.

And he never told me that I couldn’t sing something suggestive.

“You underestimate his feelings about you.” Pru reaches for the tie of my skirt, and I swat her hand away.

“Feelings only matter so much. It matters more what you do about them.” I know that I’m not secure in how he feels about me. How could I be? And while I don’t expect this to change anything, I hope it bothers him.

I certainly won’t be acting like his good girl on stage tonight.

A knock, then a click of the door.

“Dobryy vecher, devushki,” Dean says as he walks in, hand covering his face while his eyes peek between his fingers. I shake my head.

“I’m dressed, D, you’re fine.” He runs a hand through his messy black hair, then sticks both hands in his pockets and surveys the room. He’s dressed in all black: a black tank top, black jeans, black shoes. Dean usually goes shirtless, but I’m sure he’s covered in burns he needs to hide based on the little bit that I saw the other night.

“Have you seen Lu?” Pru jumps to attention, eyes wide as she strides over, halting a mere foot away before him.

“What do you mean, have we seen her? Did she not show up?” Dean places his hands on Pru’s shoulders, holding her from taking off straight through the roof.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Pru. She arrived on time as always, but she said she was going to step out for five minutes.”

“How long ago was that?” Pru nearly stumbles over her words as they fall out of her faster than her tongue can keep up. Dean rubs the back of his neck, tugging at the skin. He knows she’s in a fragile state. Any day now, something will set her off.

“Agh fuck it. About an hour ago.” As the last word leaves his lips, Pru darts past him and through the door. Dean turns to me and smiles his crooked smile.

“Don’t fret, I’ll go after her soon. If Lu isn’t back, I’ll cover for Cain. He’ll be up there with you at the keyboard.” Dean reaches me in a few strides and gives me a peck on the cheek, “You look beautiful, My Lady.” Turning on his heel, he leaves the green room.

I rise and go to stand before the full-length mirror, taking deep breaths as I run through my set in my head a few more times. Regardless of what happens, this will be fun. I never perform anything like this; no one knows what my personal style is.

Maybe Cain won’t like the way people look at me after this.

Maybe he won’t be okay with this being over anymore.

Now that’s wishful thinking.

I glance at the clock, ten minutes till showtime. I take one more look in the mirror, one more deep breath, then head backstage.

The chatter from the crowd creates a low hum, feeding my anticipation. While men and women are welcome to attend, the energy on burlesque night is like a gentleman’s club rather than a typical dinner theater. Single men are attracted to burlesque night, it’s the low lights, sultry music in the background, scantily dressed women, and a lot of liquor.

Peeking through the curtain, I catch Lu walking through the door, Caius at her tail. She walks around the corner of the bar, Caius taking a seat in front of her. Pru practically charges forward, taking the stool beside Caius. Her shoulders are back, and her chest is puffed out, as if she’s trying to make herself look threatening. They used to be close; she’s hated him since he married her sister.

Caius is Cain’s older brother, and Lu has had a crush on him since we were children. He’s a brute, and from what I’ve heard, he is every bit as sadistic as Cain. I’ve never seen Caius express any emotion besides anger, he’s always had a chip on his shoulder. Not even with his friends or the women he keeps in his company. Caius sleeps around a lot, almost never with the same girl twice. He picks girls up at the end of a night out and sends them on their way right after. I don’t think he’s ever brought someone back to the manor.

Lu’s feelings for him might come as a surprise to me if I didn’t relate. I’ve had a crush on Cain forever, and he’s as sadistic as Satan.

Anyway, Pru has warned her time and time again not to go for him. And Lu never listens. The heart wants what the heart wants.