It’s the worst idea I’ve had in ten years.
The first one that’s made me feel anything at all.
And that might be the most dangerous part.
Chapter 2
Roxy
I’ve done my share of reckless things in my life.
I don’t shy away from challenges.
I get things done. Preferably without throwing up in public.
But acting out of desperation? Desperation is a flavor I swore I’d never taste again.
Only my family gets me to the point of… bending myself into shapes I don’t respect.
And somehow, tonight feels like slipping into old habits I vowed to slay.
Nothing screams empowerment like dry-heaving your way through a sex-club mission.
When I broke free, I vowed never to do things I don’t want to do. Yet here I am. The end justifying the means and all that.
I’m ready to jump out of my skin, and I’ve workedhard to feel comfortable. To be myself. Be unapologetically authentic. I constructed that identity carefully when I left home.
I grew up believing I needed to fold to be accepted. I shed that baggage as soon as I left my father’s mansion.
But I guess it was good training for real life. Because things got real, and I have a chance to carve out something of my own. Without the overbearing shadow of my family.
Right now, the only shadow I’m willing to stand under is the one I cast myself.
If I play my cards right, I will get my sister out of there as well. I already escaped. Tee deserves the same.
And that possibility—the chance for Tee to have a normal life—is a powerful motivator.
Something I promised her, but mostly myself, that I would not fail at.
So here I am, squirming inwardly while ordering my third vodka soda. Liquid courage for president! Hopefully, my campaign slogan is “Don’t throw up.”
“Your drink.” A supermodel-looking bartender smiles at me. “Your first time here?” She assesses me correctly.
She looks like she walked off a runway and straight into a den of sin. I’m out of my depth, and she knows it.
“What gave it away?” I clasp the glass.
Coming to the Velvet Room was a desperate move. My dress is horrendous and uncomfortable. How should a girl know what to wear to a sex club? What even is a sex club?
In my case, what even is sex anymore? I glance at the performance on the stage and rub my thighs together. It’s like watching porn with some artistic value. I’m mesmerized and aroused, which is as bad as this stupid dress.
Of course my libido picks tonight to resurrect itself. Useless, traitorous impulse.
How long has my dry spell lasted? Long. Definitely since I joined Merged two years ago. Not that I got much action when my brothers controlled my whereabouts before.
Proving myself day and night in a world ruled by men doesn’t leave much desire to enjoy said gender after hours.
And while working for Corm, Cal, and Declan, the Merged partners, I barely fit sleep into my after-work hours.
