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There was more than one reason why I wasn’t happy about this job. Not just that I had just come from a job, but I was still mad that Rolf had to one-up me in the car.
I had a sneaking suspicion that this job was his way of reeling me back in. To remind me that I couldn’t just go off and steal the eyeballs of my targets or go off and cause mass political scandals.
At least he sweetened the deal for you,I reminded myself. Not all handlers treated their assassins as well as he had with me. If any other assassin had given their handler even an ounce of the sass I had, they would most definitely be shipped back to the guild’s headquarters for “retraining”. I had been lucky to only have to endure that punishment once in my life, but it was enough so that I’d never want to go through it again.
With a clenched jaw, I pulled at the fabric and walked toward the entrance. The men at the doors didn’t even bother to check my ID as I strolled in. They saw what I was wearing, paired with the mask, and that was all the answer they needed.
Gullible, just like most of the “guards” I’ve seen in these types of places. Maybe this would be over faster than I thought.
Club Pétale, to those who had the privilege of knowing it, was a haven for all those looking to get in touch with the dark, depraved versions of themselves. It was made to be a high-class version of a sex club that invited all non-men, including but not limited to: women, genderqueer, transgender, and non-binary people only.
On top of that, all the patrons had to go through an extensive application process before being accepted. Even after the application process, there was no guarantee that you would be accepted.
Getting in here was short of a miracle, especially with the shitty application they submitted on my behalf.
I wanted to say I got lucky, but I never believed in luck.
Karmaon the other hand was a constant in my life. I had not wanted to believe it, but time and time again, for my targetsandmyself, karma always decided to show its ugly little face as a reminder of its existence.
Like forcing me into a sex club.
It was like all the recklessness I had shown aboard came back to bite me right in the ass.
The first thing that hit me when I walked through the clubs’ large double doors was the light floral scent wafting through the house. It mingled with the stench of arousal that was so strong in the air it caused my throat to tighten.
I had seen the blueprints of the place on the way over, but nothing prepared me for what it looked like filled with people.
The large, elegant house had been decorated with blacks, whites, and even some gold here and there. A huge glittering chandelier hung from the ceiling, and there were blown-up pictures hung up on almost every free space showcasing all different types of erotic acts.
My eyes lingered on one with a girl’s tongue lapping up the other’s pussy.
“Welcome, name please.”
My gaze was brought to the little woman that stood before me smiling brightly with an iPad in her hand. She wore a floor-length deep-red gown with nothing underneath.
“Reilly,” I said with a light smile, though the use of my real last name felt wrong.
Applicants had their choice of names, and not only did Rolf put my government-given name on the fucking application, but the fake name that wassupposedto protect my identity while in the clubs’ walls was actually my real last name.
For years, I was forced to use my agent number to identify myself, or on the occasion I was going undercover, I would use something like Alex or River. Something that had nothing to do with who I was.
It was easier that way.Safer.
This felt like they were throwing me to the wolves. Even after everything I had done for them.
It was hard not to feel even the least bit betrayed.
Karma. You decided to push their boundaries the last two years and this is what you get.It was hard not to huff and puff and stomp my feet like an upset toddler.
The girl didn’t bat an eyelash as she took in the information. I was probably one of three hundred that night. Just another faceless person in the crowd. She typed a few things into her iPad, and without another word, she stepped to the side and waved me in.
“If you need a tour guide, let me know,” she said with a wink. “There is an open bar to your right, a coat closet to your left, and farther in are the showrooms. Feel free to enter any one of them, though rooms need to be reserved. If you would like to match with someone for the night, please make sure to fill it out on the website or app before coming in as we cannot guarantee a same day match. Also if you have a phone, please leave it here.”
“I didn’t bring it,” I said before stepping into the main room. My eyes lingered on the bar. As much as I hated being even the slightest bit off my game for a job, the urge to down some vodka was getting stronger by the second.
There were fewer people than I thought, though having them all in a concentrated area drinking, laughing, and leaning into each other caused my mind to go into overdrive. The instinct was to catalog all of them. To take in their expressions, what they were wearing, who they were with. But I couldn’t make out any of that.
Not with most of them wearing masks. Even with my mask on, I felt so exposed. I didn’t belong here, and there was someone—probably more than one—that had seen what I truly looked likeandknew my name.
