I smile at his shock. It feels powerful. It feels like being someone else entirely.
"Keep it safe for me?" I lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, leaving a faint smudge of slutty red lipstick against his flushed skin. He smells as young as he looks…like cologne applied too heavily and nervous sweat. “The car, I mean.”
"Y-yes, ma'am." He clutches my coat to his chest like a lifeline, knuckles white against the dark wool. "Of course. Absolutely."
I turn and walk toward the elevator, hyper-aware of every eye that follows me. Men in expensive suits pause their conversations. Women in scraps of silk and leather track my progress with expressions ranging from appreciation to envy. Everyone watching the painted goddess cross the marble floor like she belongs here.
I don't belong here. I'm a fraud. A virgin playing dress-up in a world of sin.
But they don't know that. And tonight, neither will I.
The elevator doors open with a soft chime, releasing a breath of air that smells like orchids and expensive perfume. Inside, the walls are mirrored, multiplying my reflection into infinity. A thousand Ilonas look back at me, all of them terrified, all of them exhilarated, all of them finally, finally free. The blue tips of my hair catch the soft lighting, electric against all that black, my one visible rebellion on display for the first time in months.
I step inside and press the button for the club level. The doors begin to close, and my heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat, my fingertips, the pulse point between my thighs.
Tonight I belong to no one but myself.
I have no idea that somewhere above me, a man with dark eyes and dangerous hands has already seen me enter the building. That he's studying the security feed with a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, his long dark hair pushed back from his face and his trimmed beard doing nothing to soften the sharp edge of his jaw. That he knows exactly who I am, what I'm worth, and how he's going to use me.
I have no idea that the stranger I'm about to meet isn't a stranger at all.
The elevator rises, carrying me toward a fate I can't imagine.
And the storm outside finally breaks.
Two
Ilona
The elevator doors part and I step into a world I've only ever dreamed about.
A hostess in a flowing gold gown greets me with a warm smile, her dark eyes taking in my body paint with obvious appreciation rather than judgment. Behind her, a podium holds a leather-bound book with gilt-edged pages, and the soft glow of candlelight makes everything feel like stepping into another century. Another life.
"Welcome to Scarlet Thorn." Her voice is honeyed and kind, the sort of voice that puts nervous first-timers at ease. I suspect that's exactly her purpose. "May I have your name for the registry?"
I give her my friend’s name since I’m essentially a plus one to her membership. She helped get me on under her three months ago through channels I didn't ask too many questions about. My name had to go somewhere but she promised it was tucked away where no one could identify me. Something about a contact who owed her men a favor, paperwork that bypassed the usualvetting process, and a monthly fee that came out of an account my father doesn't know exists. And I was happy to pay.
The hostess runs a manicured finger down the page and her smile widens. "Ah, yes. Luna Moone’s addition to her membership. You're a new member of Scarlet Thorn under her. This is your first night with us?" Her eyes sparkle with something close to delight.
I nod. “Yes.”
"Welcome. I have a feeling you're going to love what we've prepared for our annual End of Summer Masquerade. Between you and me, it’s a little late, but a party is a party, right?"
"Thank you. You’re right. And isn’t it always summer in the jungle?" The words come out steadier than I expect, given that my heart is trying to escape through my throat.
“True. Speaking of, I see you’ve taken our Jungle theme to heart. You’re stunning.” She takes in my body art with another appreciative glance.
“Sign here, please.”
She slides the leather-bound book toward me with a warm smile. I hesitate for just a moment, then sign only my first name with a fountain pen that feels heavy and important in my hand. The ink gleams wet against the cream-colored page, and for a moment I just stare at it. Proof that I'm here. Proof that I exist outside the cage my father built around me.
"Right this way." Another hostess appears at my elbow, this one in barely-there strips of emerald silk that match the jungle theme. She's stunning in the way that makes me want to bothstare and hide, with legs that go on forever and confidence radiating from every pore.
I follow her through a curtain of hanging vines and palm fronds, and then I stop breathing entirely.
Someone has brought the jungle inside and created a magical oasis hidden away from the rest of the world.
The massive room stretches before me like something out of a fever dream. Birds of paradise explode in bursts of orange and purple from towering arrangements. Palm fronds create intimate alcoves along the walls, their shadows dancing in the flickering candlelight. Exotic flowers I can't name perfume the air with sweetness so thick I can almost taste it on my tongue—jasmine and frangipani and something darker underneath. Their combined scent smells of want and desire.