THE ASSASSIN IN HIS BED

Raven's POV I had always fantasized about being tied up by a masked man and fucked into oblivion. The aesthetic was crucial; silk restraints, maybe a velvet blindfold, and a whole lot of wicked promises whispered against my skin. It was supposed to be the curated danger that made my skin pulse race for all the right reasons. But this was a nightmare dressed like a badly executed fantasy. I was tied up, sure, but the ropes cut into my wrists, biting hard enough to make me wince instead of whimper. The mask hiding his face wasn’t seductive; it was soulless. And the look in his eyes told me he didn’t want to make me scream with pleasure. He wanted to make me scream, period. He hadn't gagged me, which told me everything I needed to know. He was an audience-driven amateur. He wanted the screams. He wanted the pleading. Every sound I swore I wouldn't make in a million years. And maybe that’s why I stayed quiet. Because if I was going to die here, I’d be damned if I gave him the satis

The backstage was in chaos. Cheap perfume choked the air as girls in various states of undress screamed over the thumping bass while fixing their tits and lashes in cracked mirrors. I ignored them all, my focus locked on the envelope hidden under my bag and the lethal gift inside. I needed somewhere to hide it before someone saw it. Olga was already making her rounds and that meant I had to move fast.I couldn’t stash it in my assigned locker. That was the first place they’d look. My eyes scanned the cramped, humid space, darting past racks of feather boas and abandoned high heels. Then I saw it. A loose ceiling tile, just above the row of sinks in the grimy bathroom. It was a risk, but it was the only one I had.I slipped into the bathroom, the door swinging shut on the noise and hopped onto the chipped porcelain sink. I pushed the tile up and shoved the envelope deep into the dark cavity, my fingers brushing against cobwebs. The tile clicked back into place just as the bathroo

I’d made my share of dumb decisions but this one took the fucking trophy.Lying was always a gamble, but lying to Dominic Sokolov? That wasn’t a gamble. That was sticking a gun between your teeth and pulling the trigger just to see if the chamber was empty. It was suicidal.Men like him didn’t forgive mistakes; let alone deception. They slit throats for being looked at wrong, burned men alive for breathing too loud. And here I was, feeding him the clumsiest, most see-through lie in the history of lies.A stripper who’d never been touched. Jesus fucking Christ. What was I thinking?The words had sounded insane even as they’d left my mouth. It was a lie too stupid to work on anyone with two brain cells, let alone a man like him.And I was good at lying—fuck that, I was great at it. I could cry on cue, bat my lashes until some poor bastard swore I was head over heels. I could lie about anything, everything, and men would eat it up. Every. Single. Time. But Dominic wasn’t supposed to fal

The air in the VVIP room was thick with the scent of expensive cigar smoke, expensive perfume, and pure, undiluted lust. I had seen a lot working at Lust & Lace, but this… this was a different stratosphere.On the central stage, two women who were completely naked, moved with a primal grace around polished chrome poles. They weren’t just dancing; it was a raw display of flesh and fantasy, a transaction of temptation happening right before my eyes. One arched her back, offering her breasts to the hazy air, while the other slowly trailed her fingers down her own stomach, her eyes locked on the men who watched.And they watched, mesmerized. Two of Dominic’s associates had already vanished into the shadowy recesses of the club with their chosen companions and the remaining three were deep in a low, rumbling conversation with the man whose lap I was trapped on.I was barely processing the words, the laughter, the clink of crystal glasses. My entire universe had narrowed to a single, devas

Dominic finally looked down at me, a ghost of that dark smirk playing on his lips. He reached down, and for a wild second, I thought he would offer me a hand up. Instead, his fingers hooked under my chin, tilting my face up to the unforgiving light."For someone who has never sucked a dick, you’re dangerously good at this." He murmured, his thumb stroking over my damp bottom lip. His touch was possessive, branding.I said nothing. I couldn’t. Shame and a treacherous, unwanted thrill warred inside me.He released my chin and I finally found the strength to push myself up, my legs trembling violently beneath me. I couldn’t meet his eyes anymore, focusing instead on the stark lines of his desk."The driver is out front," he stated, his voice all business now. He walked to his desk, picked up a phone, and pressed a button. "Ivan. My guest is coming down. You will drive her back to the estate." A pause. "Yeah. She waits for me. No one else touches her. No one else speaks to her. Do I make