Dark Queen

“You eat, live, and train. You should be here ninety percent of the time. Only the best make it at Swan. After your six-week review, we will be cutting the dead meat.”

My insides squirm. What if they accepted me just to serve as an example to the others to step up their game?

“Your schedules will be posted on the message board tomorrow. I suggest you make a copy, take a picture, or whatever you do these days.”

She points to a table propped up under the message board. “There’s an envelope with your room key inside. You’re welcome to move in today, but make sure you’re fully moved in by next week when your schedule starts.”

A nervous flutter takes flight inside me. “Do you have any questions?” She turns to face me, her ginger, shoulder-length hair swaying with her movements.

I look around, rubbing a hand down my arm. “Am I the only one who made it through?” It’s a silly question, but it strikes me as odd that I’m the only one here being given the tour.

Lines crinkle her eyes as she squints at me. “No, you’re just the one who made an impression, it would appear.” Her tone is soft, regretful even. I store that away and tug my suitcase over to the table to grab my key.

Maybe they were paying attention to my audition. I can’t believe this is real and pinch myself to make sure I’m awake.

“Do you need to see the first aider for the cut?” Megan calls after me, raising her brow, pointing to my lip. I’d been so excited, I’d forgotten it was even there.

My hand goes there involuntarily. “No, thank you. It will be fine.”

When I get to my room, I bite down on the cut, sighing as the stinging fire spreads over the sensitive flesh, heating me in places it shouldn’t.

I enjoy the rush of pain, the heat soaring through my veins, I think back to the man in the corridor, his asshole attitude and devilish good looks, my pussy throbs with the need to come.

Maybe I never had feelings for Clint because he’s too soft…a boy. I need a man—a brutal, savage bastard.

Chapter Nine

Luca

Of all the businesses I own, I find myself most at home in my office at Vino’s.

The atmosphere is calming, and none of my family comes here to drink or dine. It feels personal to me, an escape.

Hannah flags me down as I enter my office, loosening the tie around my neck. “What is it?” I ask, turning on the computer.

“There’s a detective here to see you.” She winces, knowing full well those assholes aren’t supposed to show up here.

“Send him through,” I growl, balling my fists.

Detective Morels waltzes in wearing a cheap, ill-fitting suit, his hair curling around his ears in desperate need of a haircut.

He looks out of place here. This office was decorated in muted tones, the furnishings modern, expensive—sophisticated. Morels looked like he’d just crawled out of a bad eighties movie.

“Do I have to remind you of the money you receive from me?” I push a few buttons on the screen and spin it for him to see the transfers made to offshore accounts.

“I tried your house and calling you.” He paces the floor, irritating me. I can’t stand people who fidget. Sit fucking still. “I need you to tell me if you were involved with this girl at the club.”

The nerve of this prick, “Involved how?” I push back into my seat, mapping his movements. He appears agitated, wary.

“Involved, like did you kill her?” He runs a nervous hand through his hair. I want to get up from my chair and cut his tongue from his head.

“I’d like to think you know better than to ask me stupid questions.” Standing, I round the table. He holds his hands up, shaking his head as I perch on the edge of my desk glaring at this corrupt piece of shit.

“I just need to know what I’m dealing with. There’s no evidence of this being a random slaying. The cameras were disabled. The person who did this knew the club, the exits, where the cameras were. They must have known the girl to get her back there. I’ve spoken to some of the other girls. They say Serena worked the floor but didn’t do private rooms unless it was you.” He pulls a cigarette from a packet and looks at me expectantly.

“If you attempt to smoke that thing in here, I’ll light you on fire and kick you through the door, letting you die in the alley with the rats,” I warn him.

Pushing off the desk I palm the back of his neck and tug his face toward mine. “I didn’t fucking kill her. I don’t get thrills from butchering women. Find out who does and bring me their name.”