Chapter 11: Good girl 🌶️

~ Scarlett ~

The Supreme Underground Casino was a dimly lit, high-stakes den of smoked glass, velvet, and ruthless money. High-rollers in sharp tuxedos and cartel lieutenants dominated the baccarat tables, while security guards with concealed submachine guns bled into the ambient shadows.

Every step I took through the VIP lounge felt like walking a tightrope over a pit of fire.

My dark red hair bounced around my shoulders, drawing every eye in the room like a signal flare. In this sea of tuxedoed men and classic hostesses, my provocative, dark-plaid outfit made me look like an electric anomaly.

Nikolai walked beside me, his jaw locked in a terrifyingly rigid line. The air around him was white-hot, radiating pure, suppressed violence as he led me to the main baccarat table.

"Look at that hair," a heavy-set Italian cartel boss purred from across the felt table, his eyes sliding shamelessly over my exposed chest and red hair. "Fiery red. A new face, De Santis? She’s a masterpiece. Where did you find a girl with blue eyes like ice and hair like liquid flame?"

"Keep your eyes on your cards, Moretti," Nikolai rasped, his voice dropping into a low, murderous register as he sat down, pulling a stack of heavy black chips toward him.

Remembering Madame Vane’s drills, I forced a sweet, practiced smile onto my face, standing just behind Nikolai's left shoulder, playing the part of the alluring hostess to perfection.

I read the table, scanned the guards, and kept my eyes on the exit doors leading to the valet line. I couldn’t care less about the godforsaken game, all that mattered to me was my exit strategy.

Just ten more minutes, I bargained internally, my heart hammering against my ribs. When the hostesses take their scheduled fifteen-minute break, I slip down the rear service hallway and out the emergency exit.

Nikolai played two flawless hands, sweeping a massive pile of chips into the center.

"Ah, she brings you luck, De Santis!" Moretti boomed, leaning across the green felt with a wide, arrogant grin.

"Let me borrow a little of that fire for the next hand."

Before I could react, Moretti reached across the table, holding a thousand-dollar black chip. He didn't drop it into my hand—he slid his calloused fingers down the plunge of my top, attempting to press the chip directly into the valley of my chest.

BANG!

The deafening roar of a heavy gunshot shattered the casino noise.

Women screamed. Chips rained onto the floor as chairs flipped backward.

Moretti shrieked in agony, clutching his right hand as blood spurted violently over the green felt table, a bullet hole torn clean through his palm.

Nikolai stood over the table, his sleek black pistol still smoking in his right hand. His face was devoid of color, his obsidian eyes burning with an unhinged, feral madness that sent cold terror cascading down my spine.

"Touch what's mine again," Nikolai whispered into the dead silence of the room, his voice terrifyingly calm, "and the next one goes between your eyes."

Before the casino guards could even draw their weapons, Nikolai’s iron grip clamped around my wrist. He practically hauled me off my feet, dragging me recklessly through the chaotic, screaming crowd, past the security gates, and straight into the private express elevator.

My escape plan collapsed into dust.

"Nikolai, let me go!" I choked out as the elevator doors slammed shut, plunging us into a rapid ascent toward the hotel penthouse. "You shot him! You ruined everything!"

He didn't answer. He didn't even look at me. His heavy chest heaved, his hand crushing my wrist so tightly my fingers went numb.

When the elevator chimed at the top floor, he dragged me out into a sprawling, darkened penthouse suite, slamming the heavy oak double doors shut. The click of the electronic lock sounded like a trap snapping closed.

"What are you wearing?" he snarled, finally spinning around to face me, his eyes dark with a wild, terrifying fury. He stalked toward me like a predator. "Barely covered! Smiling at them while they stared at your chest!"

"Are you insane?" I shrieked, backing away until my thighs hit a mahogany bar. I almost coughed up blood from rage. "Your staff picked this out! They told me you ordered it! Why are you taking this out on me? I didn't ask to dress like this!"

Nikolai ignored my words entirely. He closed the distance in two broad strides, trapping me against the bar. His hands framed my jaw, his mouth slamming down onto mine in a fierce, possessive kiss.

I fought back, twisting my head, but his hands shifted, ripping at the front of my tied white blouse, desperate to strip away the fabric that had drawn other men's eyes.

"Nikolai, stop!" I panicked, real terror seizing my throat. The two-day deadline was up, and he was completely out of his mind. I couldn't let this happen. I had a fiancé. I had my dignity.

I flattened my palms against his broad chest, tears of frustration burning in my eyes, and forced my voice to crack with raw desperation.

"Please!" I sobbed, lowering my head.

"Please... I can't. I'm not ready. I'll do anything else. Anything! Just please... not this."

Nikolai froze.

His heavy breathing filled the dimly lit room. Slowly, his hands loosened on my torn blouse. He tilted my chin up with one gloved finger, staring down at my terrified face, his dark eyes searching mine.

"Anything?" he whispered softly.

My hands trembled violently, but I swallowed the lump in my throat and clenched my fists. "Yes."

A slow, terrifyingly dark smile curled the corner of Nikolai's lips—a promise of absolute ruin that made my blood run cold.

"Come with me," he murmured.

He took my hand, dragging me down a dark hallway to a heavy reinforced door at the far end of the penthouse. He unlocked it, pushing it open to reveal a massive room illuminated only by soft, crimson strip lighting.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared in sheer horror.

It was a red room. The walls were lined with leather restraints, silver cuffs, riding crops, and heavy iron chains. In the center sat a massive, canopy-style bed fitted with heavy leather wrist and ankle straps.

"You... you really are insane," I whispered, backing toward the door. "What is this?"

"You promised anything, little siren," Nikolai said coldly, shutting the heavy door behind us. He gestured to a velvet-lined tray of leather tools on a side table.

"Pick one."

"I can't," I choked out, my voice trembling. "I'm not doing this."

Nikolai’s gaze turned to ice. "So you're going back on your word?"

My pulse stilled.

I took a deep breath to regulate my breathing. Nikolai’s main goal was to humiliate me, that’s why he brought me here. I can endure this humiliation but I can’t allow him strip me of my dignity.

My trembling hand reached out to the tray. My fingers closed around a heavy black leather strap attached to a smooth, hard red rubber ball.

Nikolai’s dark smile widened.

“Good girl” He took the ball-gag from my hands.