Malum: Part 2 (The Elite King's Club 5)

I tilt my head. “What if it falls off?”

She laughs. “I can assure you, it will not. I will need you to look after it from now on, though. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” I answer, offering a smile of reassurance. “I can do that.”

She gets started on the mask and I ignore Brantley beside me, his phone blowing up every two seconds.

“You look good,” Brantley says as I slide off the chair. “You can’t wear that though,” he comments, pointing to my outfit.

I raise an eyebrow, but it feels weird. Heavy, like a thousand layers of paint is on top of it. “Why?”

“Because you can’t.”

Scarlet clears her throat. “You’re a size four, right?”

I look at her. “On a good day, yes, otherwise a six. Why?”

She pulls out a black dress that looks more like a size zero and less like a four. I take it from her, skeptical.

“Wear it. Pair it with some thigh-high boots, and Tillie?” she says as my glance drops down the small black and lace… dress. “Own it like the queen that you are.”

Her words surge through me, power in each letter.

I smile, nodding my head. “I will.” I hope. I quickly stumble out of the dining hall and dip into Luce’s office that we were all in not long ago. I remove my clothes and am butt naked when the door opens.

“Woah!” Brantley spins around, covering his eyes.

“What the fuck, Bran Bran… how many times have you seen me naked?” I laugh, slipping the dress over my head.

His shoulders shake in amusement. “Yeah, but not so much anymore.”

“What do you mean?” I flip my hair out from under the dress, shimmying it down.

“It doesn’t matter,” he mutters. “You decent?”

I roll my eyes, gathering my clothes from the floor. “Yes. I just need to go and grab my boots.”

I dash in and out and I have my thigh-high boots fastened securely around my legs. Scarlet has set me up big time with this dress. It’s short, tight, and where the bust dips in between my breasts, there are layers of lace sewn in. There’s also a little slit on the left thigh that I’m pretty sure you can almost see my G-string through.

I stroll toward Brantley’s car, rumbling angrily in the spot. I open the door and slide in, fluffing my hair up.

“Jesus fucking—” He shakes his head, dropping into first gear and zipping us out of the driveway. “Yeah, Daddy is not going to be happy about that dress.”

I flip the mirror down and smear my dark burgundy lipstick across evenly. “He has never cared before.”

Silence.

“What?” I snap at Brantley when he doesn’t elaborate.

“Nothing, just that I say daddy, and you instantly know I’m talking about Nate…”

Shit. I slap the visor closed and shift in my seat to get comfortable. “Why am I coming? I brought the book.”

Brantley is silent again and I’m getting annoyed with his evasive behavior. I don’t know how Madison handled it for so long. So much as a sniff of a lie and I will pollute the air with toxic poison so when they inhale their own bullshit, they won’t be able to exhale it into me.

“You’ll see.”

We drive for about ten minutes before I open up Instagram. I flip the camera to selfie mode and snap a photo of me leaning into Brantley’s arm. He’s scowling, but whatever, he’s always scowling. Our face paint lights up the photo like we just rolled out of The Walking Dead and I smirk, proud of our first photo together.

“I hate photos.”

I shrug, tagging him in it and sharing it to Instagram—and Facebook. “Tough.”

Another five minutes later and we’re pulling down a familiar long gravel driveway. Apparently, it was also where Madison got shot by Daemon. I didn’t piece two and two together because I wasn’t around during that time. I try not to lick my lips, afraid of smearing the makeup.

We pull up and there’s the building that Madison and I were in watching underground fighting while I met a couple of younger Kings. I slam the door shut after I get out, looking at Brantley skeptically.

“Why are the lights off?”

He smirks at me, lighting his smoke. “Because I told you, you’re at a meet.”

“—and what the fuck are you wearing?” Nate barks, storming toward me, literally appearing from the forest.

“Excu—”

He grips onto my wrist, yanking me around the car.

I yank it out of his grip. “Fuck you and fuck off.”

His hand flies to my throat and his eyes narrow. His white, wolf-like contacts glare at me like I’m staring into the eyes of a corpse.

“Don’t fuck with me, Tillie. Now is not the time for that smart-ass mouth.”

I whack his arm away, but he only intensifies his grip, slamming me against Brantley’s car.

I search his eyes, his nose so close to mine. “When did you change so much?”