Debase

by Rachel Van Dyken

  There was something extraordinarily scary about a man who could take someone so broken, terrified, and bruised, and make her want to put on a dress and heels.

  He was something monstrous.

  And something beautiful.

  All wrapped up in one.

  I ran my hands along the lines of dresses and stopped when my fingertips grazed a beautiful Valentino black dress with a white little collar, it screamed innocence except it had a lace overlay that had only two small stitches of fabrics over the breasts.

  I thought about his outfit.

  Leather and red.

  Why not match?

  It would either piss him off or make him laugh. I was hoping I would earn another one of his rare laughs or french fry shows.

  I picked up a pair of tall red heels that tied all the way up to my knee and managed to zip my dress by myself.

  It fit snug.

  I did a twirl in the mirror, the length was mid-thigh, a bit short, but I could work with it.

  I couldn’t, however, wear a bra.

  The small pieces of black fabric covered a small area of chest and the lace did the rest, running down my arms in tightly fitted sleeves.

  The white collar stood out, I decided I liked it. A lot.

  I made my way into the bathroom and stared at the makeup that he’d purchased.

  Something about putting too much on just didn’t sit well with me. Was I getting dressed for him or me?

  I put my hair up in a high ponytail, the edges of my hair grazed mid-shoulders making the look a bit mod.

  I decided to go understated the whole way, a bit of foundation, no shadow, and dark eyeliner with mascara. I finished off the look with a Charlotte Tilbury liner that boasted it would make my lips look bigger and the matching bright red lipstick.

  “Well, into the lion’s den,” I whispered to myself as I rushed back into the closet in search of a purse. I finally found a tiny clutch next to two more designer purses I would never be able to afford and felt instantly guilty.

  And a bit sick.

  He hadn’t made me his whore.

  But there was something very Pretty Woman about my situation.

  I chose not to focus on the things.

  And shoved my phone into the black beaded clutch and told myself to be brave, not make eye contact, and make sure everyone knew who I belonged to.

  Even if the thought of being owned by anyone made me sick.

  His club. His rules.

  Tonight, I was Andrei Petrov’s.

  All his.

  I chanted this in my head the entire way down the dimly lit hall, and then finally at the already open door to the club.

  I hesitated a minute. Was the dress for me or him? For both of us? To prove I wasn’t broken? I was suddenly more nervous than I’d ever been in my entire life, I ducked my head in.

  Rap music pounded through the speakers so loud I was amazed clothes weren’t coming off.

  There were at least a few hundred people there already, and it was only ten.

  I knew he’d be in the VIP section, but I wasn’t sure how to exactly get there without…

  “Alice,” a voice said to my right. “Let me take you to him.” Ax held out his elbow and gave me a warm smile. “Please don’t take away the one and only chance I’ll ever have to see Andrei Petrov fall to his knees.”

  A searing blush flooded my face as I took his arm and tried to tuck my hair then realized it was in a ponytail. “Thanks.”

  “I should be the one thanking you.” He grinned wider. “So glad I’m on shift tonight.”

  I laughed a bit. “Me too, otherwise I would have been lost.”

  “Nobody gets lost in this club,” he said pointedly. “Cameras everywhere.”

  “What about the apartments?”

  Ax didn’t even blink. “Those are his private residence. No cameras anywhere in that place, boss’s orders.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Good information, yes?” He winked.

  “Oh no, it’s not, it’s not like that, not even a little bit it’s not—”

  “Yeah okay, sure.” He shrugged as we walked up about a dozen stairs and into the VIP section with table service and couches. It was draped in blacks and reds just like the rest of the club but the seating was divided by curtains that could be drawn around for privacy.

  It wasn’t very full yet, the section. When we rounded the corner, I had no time to prepare myself for the wives.

  I was attacked.

  With perfume, smiles, hugs.

  From each and every one of them.

  Trace was first. “That dress!”

  Mo groaned. “I used to look sexy.”

  “She’s pregnant,” Bee pointed out, air kissing each of my cheeks. “She feels fat.”

  The woman looked like a freaking supermodel. “Uh, how far along?”

  “Six months.” Mo made a face. “Water for the win.” She held up a water bottle. I smiled.

  El was next on the hugging, Dante’s wife. “You’re stunning.”

  “Oh.” I pressed a hand to my stomach while Val gave me a knowing look. “Thank you. I’m so glad you guys all came.”

  “You kidding?” Val laughed. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  “Same,” the girls all said in unison while I tried not to laugh. What did they think was gonna happen anyway?

  I noticed his boots first, the red sticking out from the main couch, his legs spread like he owned the place, which I guess he did technically.

  He looked like a Russian king.

  A Czar.

  Regal.

  I sucked in a breath as he seemed to actually laugh at something Chase said, and then his head moved.

  The wives, no joke, took one giant step away from me.

  His smile fell.

  Crap.

  I should have chosen a different dress, worn more makeup, done something, anything.

  His face looked like granite as his eyes lazily raked over me. Tex started choking on something while Chase whacked him in the back.

  The only one not grinning from ear to ear in my direction was Andrei.

  I almost turned and ran.

  Almost.

  Andrei finally lifted his hand and crooked one finger at me.

  Great, now I was being summoned.

  Punished.

  The air suddenly felt smoky, choking as I took a step and then another. He didn’t even blink, his ice-cold eyes locked on mine like a tractor beam, and so I walked. I walked right up to him, stepped between his legs, and held my head high.

  It felt like the entire club was watching him, waiting for his next decision. I kept the tremble from my body, barely, as his eyes slowly moved from my face down my chest, my hips, and then my shoes.

  His leg was shaking like he was tapping his foot.

  His eyes flashed.

  And then his hands were on my hips, pulling me onto his lap. The dress was too tight, so I collapsed against his chest, my legs dangling over the side of his. And then his lips were on my neck, sliding up until he said with deathly calm in my ear. “I like your dress.”

  I licked my lips. “Thank you.”

  His hands didn’t move from my hips. He had his gloves back on, but I could feel their heat and I knew what his fingertips felt like against my skin, I could almost imagine them there now, digging into my flesh, tugging me hard against his lap.

  Wait.

  No.

  What was I thinking?

  I couldn’t.

  Not with him.

  Not ever.

  What happened to not being attracted to powerful hurtful men?

  And why was I still sitting on his lap like it was Christmas? I moved my hips against him and settled in more comfortably.

  He flinched and then shot me a glare as a waitress dressed in a slinky red cocktail dress brought us all a round of shots.

  Vodka, of course.

  “Ypa,” He handed me a shot and then clinked his glass ag
ainst mine while everyone else raised theirs with laughter, like they weren’t natural born killers.

  Even the women.

  A flash of knife showed against Mo’s thigh. She took a drink of water and winked.

  Right.

  “Ypa.” I repeated and downed my shot.

  I’d need a lot more than one vodka shot to survive that night, wouldn’t I?

  Thankfully, the waitress returned, this time with drinks, some wine, whiskey, a few Moscow mules that looked like heaven, and more shots.

  Andrei immediately took the shot. I suddenly had this insane need to know how much vodka he could down while playing darts and attempting to hit a bullseye, and then felt stupid for being curious.

  “So.” Tex stood and faced us, wrapping an arm around Mo. His mere presence was imposing, like he was too big for the room, knew it, and used it to his advantage. His dark reddish hair seemed to glisten underneath the pulsing lights. “Are we celebrating tonight?”

  “Celebrating?” Andrei narrowed his eyes and then stared at the empty shot glasses like there wasn’t enough alcohol in his system yet.

  “Yeah.” Tex grinned and lifted his drink to his smirking mouth. “Your marriage, of course.”

  I could have sworn Andrei choked on the shot as it went down, and then he winked at Tex. “Oh we’ve already been celebrating, you weren’t invited.”

  “Trust me, the very last thing I want to see is you trying to find your prick and win a prize when you find the right — oomph.”

  Mo smacked him in the chest. “So, this is exciting, right? Another girl to add to the gang!” She shared a look with me that said I’d better be explaining later what the hell was going on, and I knew without a doubt I had to lie.

  I had to freaking lie.

  Because I couldn’t tell her the real reason.

  No, that seemed like a great way to get killed in this really pretty dress and end up buried in it.

  “Come on.” Trace reached for my hand and pulled me to my feet. “Let’s go dance, and we want details…” She peeked over my shoulder to Andrei.

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing special.” I gulped, still within earshot of Andrei. “I mean, nothing different from all his other girlfriends.”

  The guys silenced.

  The girls shared obvious looks of intense curiosity.

  And then Trace looped her arm in mine and said loudly, “Andrei doesn’t have girlfriends. In fact, you’re the first girl he’s ever brought to family dinner, let alone, to hang out.”

  I stole a glance at Andrei.

  His expression was unreadable.

  But he did reach for another shot.

  And when I looked down.

  His foot moved.

  Tap.

  Tap.

  Tap.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Andrei

  THERE ARE MANY definitions of Hell.

  My list was exhaustive, my definitions tragic.

  Tonight I was adding something new to the very top.

  That. Fucking. Dress.

  I hadn’t purchased her clothes, I was too busy running the club, and trying to keep her alive.

  The wives seemed thrilled to have someone to take under their wing. Inside of a week, she’d know how to throw knives and render a man unconscious with her thumb and forefinger.

  Great.

  “So, what gives?” Tex kicked my tapping foot. Shit, how long had I been doing that? I stole a glance at Alice, but she quickly looked away.

  “You’re going to have to use English.” I scowled.

  “The girl.” His arm hung around Mo. “The De Lange girl, shit for brains brother, you cut his tongue out, dad’s most likely gone to ground, when are you letting her do the honors of killing her brother before we kill her? She still suffering in one of the holes you call a room here?”

  I could feel the tension pulsing from Alice’s body.

  “Do we really need to talk business?” Mo patted Tex’s cheek. “Besides, does it really matter? It’s not like anyone can escape this place.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to say that even I couldn’t escape it. Physically its walls kept me here; mentally I was imprisoned by the screams of people I couldn’t help.

  Chase adjusted his position next to me and looked up at Tex. “What day did you say she was exchanged for her father’s life; all the killing gets a bit fuzzy.”

  Shit. Just another thing I left out for Alice to find later.

  She was traded.

  Meant for dead.

  Surprise.

  “Few days ago.” I sighed and motioned for another round. “I’ll look at the ledger. She was fed three times a day, on constant watch, and at the time was so sick we thought she would die.”

  Chase flinched. “Then don’t let her.”

  Luc put her hand on Chase’s arm.

  His jaw ticked. “She’s a De Lange.”

  “So is your wife,” I said softly. “And you don’t see me pointing a gun at her face.”

  He jolted to his feet. “That was different, and you know it. She took a blood oath.”

  “Yes,” I said, nodding to Luc, who looked ready to pull Chase into her arms and kiss away his anger. “She did. It’s the only reason you’re still living and not out on a killing spree.”

  “To be fair,” Phoenix pointed out. “He’s still on a killing spree.”

  “A controlled one,” Nixon added in, his eyes sliding from mine to Chase’s and then he shifted in his chair and glanced at Alice.

  Shit.

  “Mo’s right.” I stood. “Let’s drink. We can talk business tomorrow.”

  “You’re hiding something.” This from Chase.

  I went stock-still and then looked over my shoulder, irritated that he would call me out in my own club. “And you’re lucky I didn’t take your wife before you had the chance.”

  He lunged for me.

  Nixon held him back.

  I winked. “Sometimes, Chase, it’s just too easy,” I slapped him on the cheek lightly. “Keep it in check before I get security to escort you out of here.”

  “Or Mary,” Tex mumbled under his breath.

  “Who the hell is Mary?” Trace asked.

  Nixon groaned. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Is she another one of your…” Trace gave me a sheepish look. “Girls that, you know…”

  I grinned. “No, actually I don’t know. Did you want to draw me a diagram?”

  Phoenix started coughing.

  I sighed. “Mary’s a tarantula. We keep her at the bar.”

  Trace’s eyes widened. “Is she in a cage?”

  “Of a sort.” I grinned. “Why, you want to meet her?”

  “I do.” Alice piped up.

  All heads turned to her. Most of the men looked shocked while the women took a step away from her like she was diseased.

  “What?” She smiled wide. “I never had a pet growing up, and tarantulas are so cute. I’ve heard they’re really gentle.”

  “Gentle my ass,” Sergio said under his breath.

  I crossed my arms. “You’re bluffing.”

  She shifted on her feet. “Oh? Why would you say that?”

  “Your eyes darted down to the left at the exact same moment you shifted weight, and then you licked your lips, fast not slow. You’re lying.”

  “Does he do this to everyone he likes?” Bee asked out loud.

  “I think I feel a bet coming on.” Dante rubbed his hands together. “If she can hold Mary for say… one full minute without panicking, what are you going to buy your new… wife that not one of us knew about?”

  I shot him a death glare.

  “What?” He shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure we didn’t drop the very important subject of you suddenly being married to a woman we don’t know.”

  “I have questions.” Chase gritted his teeth. “Loads of them…”

  “Pleasure,” I rasped, lifting my hand to cup Alice’s face. “Not business, not
tonight.”

  God, it hurt to touch her, even with my gloves on.

  I was numbing myself with alcohol.

  And even then, I still felt her.

  I took another shot and swallowed. “Deal.”

  She held out her hand for me to shake it. “Deal.”

  I tugged her against my chest. “That’s not how I make deals.”

  “Well, shit,” Nixon muttered under his breath as I pulled out a small knife from my pocket and flicked open the blade. “Andrei…”

  “What?” I called over my shoulder. “She’s the one who agreed.”

  Alice’s eyes shot to the knife then back up to me. “What’s the knife for?”

  “Give me your hand.” I answered to no one.

  The guys went quiet, the women watched like we were the newest drama to hit Netflix as they downed their drinks over the exchange.

  Slowly, Alice lifted her hand. I turned it over, palm facing up, and imagined my mark on her, my tattoo on the back of that wrist. I wanted to mark her, so anyone who saw her knew.

  But not here.

  Not now.

  I made a tiny cut on her thumb.

  And then I pulled off my glove and made a cut above the bottom star, my star. She wouldn’t know what it meant, to take a blade to your own skin, your own family tattoo.

  It meant she was my blood.

  I was taking it too far.

  I didn’t care.

  It was the dress.

  The ridiculous see-through lace dress.

  I pressed my thumb to hers and then clutched her hand and whispered. “I guess you’re going to have to prove you can take it.”

  “The spider or you?” she mused.

  Two of the guys burst out laughing while it sounded like Tex started taking bets. Fantastic.

  Still holding her hand, we walked over to the bar. It was hard enough concentrating on the task at hand let alone putting up with the guys laughing. Her ass looked incredible.

  I wasn’t the sort of guy who stared.

  Because nothing held my attention.

  Until her.

  I wondered if it was a defining moment, already it was an out of body experience, the knowledge that for twenty-two years women didn’t turn my head. They were objects. Things. I knew how to please them, I had studied that topic extensively thanks to my father, just like I knew that sex started with the kiss, but I’d never wanted anything beyond that.

  Because it was all of my soul that I had left.