Page 16 of Vicious Little Darling

“Where else do you have tattoos?” he chuckles, taking a drag and blowing a cloud of smoke out the window.

I curl my lip up, trying to smile instead of showing my disgust. “No telling.”

He continues to chuckle, amusement dancing across his face as the car pulls away. “I like your fire.”

“You’re very forthcoming,” I say dryly. It’s not interesting to me. If anything, it’s borderline creepy, but I guess it’s better than skull-faced weirdo creeping around me. I turn my eyes toward the window as the car makes its way to a club on the other side of the city. It takes nearly forty-five minutes, and I spend most of that time avoiding conversation with Dylan.

And it shows.

When the car pulls up beside the curb of the VIP club, he slides out and opens the door for me.

“Well, let’s try to survive this night, I guess.”

I cringe at the sharpness in his tone. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.” I force a smile, looking past him and spotting Rich with a blonde. Relief pours through my body, and I add a bounce to my step as we make our way toward the two of them.

“You look nice,” Rich tells me, giving me a friendly side hug. “This is Sarah.”

I exchange greetings with the blonde bombshell, who has long tan legs running from the hem of her scanty white dress. I don’t know how she’s not freezing as there’s a cool breeze blowing tonight.

“This is one of the nicest places in the city,” Sarah says, eyeing me up. I can tell she’s judging my Shein dress and Payless shoes, but I ignore it.

“You should’ve seen the shithole she lives in,” Dylan jokes, threading his arm around my waist without warning. “It lookslike something straight out of a gangster film. God knows who’s getting shot.”

“Her neighbor got stabbed a few months ago,” Rich chimes in, frowning. “Maybe you should move, Em.”

“I would have to be able to afford that,” I say defensively. “It’s notthatbad. Not everyone can afford a penthouse.”

“Not even me,” Dylan chirps. “But I can give you something better than that.”

“Hmm,” I mutter, scanning the crowd. I don’t see any familiar faces, and I’m tempted to text Josh and see what he’s up to, desperate for someone, who actually gets me, to be around.

We all engage in small talk as we make our way inside. Dylan is on some sort of list that gets up to the top floor. It’s what you would expect from some fancy fucking club, but it doesn’t impress me as I sip on my Shirley Temple.

I find a corner safe from the crowd as Rich and Sarah’s bodies grind against each other somewhere, and Dylan starts up a conversation with someone he apparently knows. I pull out my phone and go to Josh’s message thread.

Me: This was the WORST idea ever. OMFG.

Three dots immediately pop up on the screen, and I wait for his reply, trying not to look up and make any other eye contact. I just want to get out of this place ASAP. I thought it might be exactly what I need, but apparently, I’m wrong.

Josh: Need me to save you when I get off work?

Me: YES. PLEASE SAVE ME.

He sends a laughing emoji, and I lean back against the wall, desperately wishing that the time would pass faster. Dylan looks over at me and his face contorts with some sort of emotion—I don’t think it’s a good one.

I look away, peering down through my glass at the dancing crowd below. It’s less cozy down there and, for some reason, there’s an appeal to that. I glance back at Dylan, who’s no longerlooking at me, before I slip down the stairs, after downing the rest of my drink. The bass thuds over the speakers, even louder than upstairs, and I weave my way onto the dance floor, letting my body rock in rhythm. I’m not a dancer, but I can keep time.

Tipping my head back, I let my hips rock, and as I do, I feel a presence behind me. A shiver rolls down my spine as a hand grazes my waist.

“I never pegged you as a club kind of girl,” a voice says from behind me, deep and distorted. I freeze, but the grip only tightens, dragging my ass into a rock-hard length.

My breaths pick up, shallowly gasping for oxygen as I tip my head around and am met with the sight of the skull-faced masked man.

“What the actualfuck?!” I nearly scream.

My heart throbs in my temple, and I try to pull away, but he hangs onto me.

“It’s just a dance,” he growls in my ear. “It’s not as if I’m going tofuck youhere.”

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