Diabla

I stayed two steps behind Siren on our way upstairs. She showed me to the VIP rooms and opened one, revealing a humongous room with a white velvet couch and a table, as well as a steam shower stall separated by a transparent glass wall. I had an instant feeling it was not for the patrons and Siren confirmed it when she caught me staring.

“You don’t have to get in the shower stall if you don’t want to.” She said, as if it was any assurance. “Lucky for us, Curtis does not believe in forcing his girls to do anything just because patrons want it. He lets us decide what we want to do, then pairs us up with the right patrons. You may not even need the pole.”

I had not realized it before but now I saw the partitioning screen, behind which there must be the pole she was talking about.

“And don’t worry. If anyone tries to push you to do anything outside the boundaries you set, Heston takes care of them.”

I was not interested in anything to do with the VIP rooms. This was not why I was here. I was not going to ‘entertain’ anyone. I was here to tend the bar and make the right friends. But Siren’s words had me perking up.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked her.

She smiled at me, not saying a word, and I knew that was because the VIP rooms weren’t as private as everyone was led to believe. Perhaps we were being watched.

She grabbed my shoulder and nudged me. “Let’s check out the private swimming pools.” Then in a much lower voice she added, “it all depends. If the damage is bad enough, you will be the last person they see.”

A shiver ran down my spine. That was the answer to my question. I had expected to hear as much but actually hearing it was something else entirely.

The swimming pool was as sumptuous as the rest of Inferno and I quickly learned it was Heston’s favorite place. Not that I had any interest in knowing what that coldhearted creature wanted, but at least I knew where to avoid going at all costs.

She then brought me to the changing room, where from her sigh of relief, I knew we were finally not being watched.

“This is my private stall. You get one once you start frequenting the VIP rooms.” She opened a door and led me into what looked more like a bedroom and makeup chamber than a changing stall.

“Do you sleep here?” I asked.

She nodded. “If I’m too tired to go home.” She quickly switched back to talking about the VIP room. Apparently, not everyone had a private changing room, only the ones who frequented VIP rooms. “If you make it to the penthouse, you may never have to worry about where you change or sleep. Curtis will take good care of you while it lasts.”

Now I was more curious. Who needed a penthouse in the nightclub? I downplayed it by touching the silky material of her drapes. “Does the penthouse belong to a particular patron?”

“Curtis spends many nights there.” She confirmed my suspicion without explicitly mentioning what really happened when he spent his nights in the penthouse.

Of course he would be a womanizer like the rest of his family. I held back my smile, cautiously asking, “Have you been there?”

“What you mean to ask is if I’ve slept with him, right?”

My cheeks flushed. “No. I’m just…”

“You’re his type.” She said out of the blue.

Now I was genuinely puzzled. “What?”

She scoffed. “He literally wanted to eat you alive. Don’t pretend you didn’t see it.”

When I shook my head, she circled me and rested her hands on my shoulders. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“Angelica.” I stuttered, belatedly realizing I should have given a fake name. No one used their real name here. Especially not Olivia Reynolds, who was so comfortable with the fake persona she had created that I was nearly questioning my research. “Angelica, makes sense. You look like a literal angel in this dress.”

I would have thought it was a compliment if I didn’t catch the snort in her tone.

“And is that a bad thing?”

Her response was to spin me around and scrutinize my frame. When she was satisfied, she dug into her walk in closet and returned with a red dress. “Try this on.”

Did I just say she returned with a dress? It was more like a few straps holding together two triangles and a tiny piece of fabric meant to cover my ass and crotch. Forget about my innocent persona. I would not wear that to save my life.

Seeing my expression, she laughed and took out another. “Is this better?”

I eyed the silk dress and shook my head. The only difference between this and the former was that it would cover my torso.

“It won’t fit.” I pulled an excuse out of nowhere. “You have bigger boobs.”

She eyed me suspiciously and grabbed my left boob out of the blue before she finally gave in.

“Fine. But only slightly. Wait, can I touch it again? They’re so soft.”

I didn’t have the chance to shake my head before she slipped behind me and cupped both of my boobs, giving them a firm squeeze.

My jaw dropped. How long would I work here before this woman drove me crazy?

______

Diabla.

That was what the name on my employee tag read. My parents had named me Angelika thinking I would be a real life angel, only for Siren to turn me into the devil’s incarnate. She thought it would be fun to give me a nickname that was the opposite of my name as soon as she worked her magic on my appearance.

Checking my reflection out in the mirror, I was nearly certain that was not me. I still looked like myself but my straight hair was now in large waves framing the sides of my face and tumbling down my bare back. It was odd feeling my hair against my skin when I was not showering.

Siren had chosen a strapless black dress that she swore would bring out the curves of my body. I hated to admit it but she was right. While I had to fight the urge to tug at the hem to cover a little more of my body, I had two more things to focus on. The matte lipstick felt strange on my lips.

“This is smudge-proof. You don’t want to smear lipstick all over Curtis’s cock. He hates that.” She had said, making my cheeks flame pink in embarassment. Why she was convinced I was going to go down on my new boss, I had no idea.

I was only wearing panties because I insisted on not going commando but even then, she had ditched my red cotton panties and replaced them with a lacy thong I didn’t think I would be able to sit in. I had only worn cotton or silk granny panties before tonight. If I tripped and fell because I was uncomfortable with the lace rubbing against my lady bits with each step, I would hate Siren all my life.

Speaking of tripping, I wasn’t sure I could walk in the sky-high heels Siren had forced on my feet. She was insane and she was driving me crazy along with her.

“It’s time.” She whispered after giving me time to talk myself into doing this.

“Yes.” I said, but I was looking into the mirror. I was not talking to Siren, but to myself. To Angelika Giannelli, who had waited six years to avenge her uncle’s death, fourteen years to avenge her parents, and who finally had the chance. “It’s time.”