PROLOGUE
a few months earlier
Hazel
The asshole grinned down at me, satisfied with my defeat. My eye still hurt. I was almost positive that he had left a bruise. Broken my one damn rule; do not mess with my face. It was easy to hide bruises on your back, on your legs—hell, even your arms—but the face? The best makeup couldn’t completely hide a black eye, but it was the price I paid to get what I wanted.
I was used to it.
Not all men were willing to go there. They thought I was crazy, and I was tired of explaining. So I sought out men like the asshole looking down at me. Whatever the hell his name was. His gray eyes practically glowed in the dark, almost white. I rubbed my eye.
“What did you say your name was?” I asked.
“Are you serious?” he asked. He buckled up his belt.
Right. He had made me say his name as the safeword to stop the beatings. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of remembering it. I played dumb. He wasn’t that impressive.
“Dean. Dean Harris.”
“I didn’t need the last name, sugar,” I said, rolling my eyes.
I got up from the bed, wondering how long I could stay at the party until Eric wanted me back at the penthouse.
I had met Eric at the Great Pleasures Palace Casino. I was drawn to him; he was exactly the kind of sadist that didn’t have problems going there. And what I thought was a friendly, flirtatious bet had turned into an actual debt. Working off my time by being one of his many house slaves, wasn’t so bad. Better than being in jail, like Eric had said, as long as you did exactly as you were told. But I would never gamble again. I liked pain, but the consequences for disobeying Eric were rumored to be deadly. I never wanted to be in this situation again.
I wandered towards the master bathroom. It was weird that the Afterglow, a BDSM members-only club in Las Vegas, was holding an event at a house instead of the usual club, but I didn’t mind. It gave us easier access to bathrooms. I needed to check my eye. Maybe I could shower before I tried to mingle, or tried the stuff in the baggy. Eric had said it was mine; I was supposed to use it at the party. He insisted that it was a gift, and that it was mine for being so good. It was hard to tell him no, and even harder to disobey, even if I didn’t want to do anything illicit.
Eric wouldn’t know if I flushed it, right? Would he test me? Make sure I had it in my system? Maybe if I ate a pinch of it, that would be enough to convince him.
At the doorframe, I glanced back at Asshole Dean. He was leafing through my purse.
“That’s mine,” I said. “Don’t touch it.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked, grinning, “Whip me?”
It was a challenge. As if I wanted to fight him again. I had learned my lesson.
“The coke is mine,” I said. “He said I’m supposed to do it by myself. All of it.”
“Who said?” he asked. “Your boyfriend?”
“Fuck off.” I slammed the bathroom door shut. Men like Dean were tolerable only while they were drenched in adrenaline with a nightstick in hand. Any other time? It was best to ignore them. I locked the handle then leaned on the door. The music downstairs was thumping in the walls, and the bass was somehow louder in the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror, cringing as I faced the faint red mark on my cheek. Was this the type of thing Eric would get mad at? It was one thing for Eric to leave a black eye, but another thing for someone else to tarnish one of his goods.
I didn’t want to think of the consequences. I had watched one of his punishments before, and that woman hadn’t been back since.
I splashed water on my face, using the hand towel to dry it. Mascara stained the towel, and I muttered to myself. I ran the cloth under running water, trying to wash off the makeup, pleading silently, Don’t stain, don’t stain.
Knock! Knock! Knock!Someone banged on the door. Probably Dean. I rolled my eyes.
“I’m taking a shit,” I yelled. “Leave me alone.”
Knock!
“What?!” I hissed. But it was silent. I shrugged.
I worked with the makeup, rubbing the cloth against itself, but the stain spread, and I knew no matter what I did, it was only going to get worse. I sighed, ringing out the excess water, then let it hang from the curtain rod in the shower. A few dildos were in the tub, apparently hosed off. I snickered.
I opened the door. Dean was lying on the floor of the bedroom with his eyes wide and blank. It was almost like there were no irises, only huge black pupils, his eye color so light gray that it blended in with the whites of his eyes.
