Page 32 of Once A Villain

“Just didn’t realize the time,” I say, trying to smile. “I’m late for a family event. Do you know where my car keys are?”

“Axe has them,” he says, amused. I scowl at the thought. He laughs, shaking his head. “His room is on the third floor, last set of doors on the left. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, heading toward the stairs. I face two massive double doors at the end of the long hallway.

With a deep breath, I knock. My stomach tightens, and I swallow hard.

“Axe!” I call out. There’s movement inside, but no response. “I’m late. Can you tell me where my car keys are?”

The door swings open, revealing Axe’s chiseled chest with the Sovereign brand on his pec and multiple tattoos. It’s the first time I’ve seen him shirtless.

His muscles ripple as he crosses his arms, his tan skin a stark contrast to the dark ink. I try not to stare, but his hard abs and the V-cut of his muscles are hard to ignore. I have to fight the infuriating urge to gawk and the desire to punch him in the face simultaneously.

“What?”

“Car. Keys.” I grit my teeth, irritated by his attitude. “I’m late.”

Leaning against the doorframe, his eyes sweep over my body, lingering a little too long on my midsection. His blatant eye-fucking makes me want to slap him.

“Nice outfit.” His eyes finally meet mine. I glare in response. “Where are we going?” he asks nonchalantly.

“Wearen’t going anywhere,” I snap. “I am. You’re not invited.”

“Is that so?” He closes the space between us. He’s too close, his breath grazing my face. He wants me to flinch, to cower—but he’s not getting that from me. “Either I go, or you’re not leaving.”

“Fine,” I mutter, knowing it’s pointless to argue.

“I’ll drive,” he says, stepping back. “But you’ll have to earn it.”

My jaw clenches, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “How?”

His eyes lock onto mine, the tension thick.

“Walk to the end of the hallway and crawl to me. Then we can go.”

“Crawl?” I sputter in disbelief.

“Crawl like a good little pet.”

Rage and humiliation surge through me. I’m about to tell him to fuck off when the realization hits me. He’s like every other Sovereign. Power-hungry. Controlling. Obsessed with his own importance. And that can be manipulated.

You can manipulate their every move if you make themfeelin control. That’s what the Sirens do. It’s what my clients pay for. Their every fantasy and desire fulfilled. I’m damn good at my job, and he has no idea. I make people believe whatever they want, and this asshole is no exception. I can make him believe anything.

I can play the part—the submissive, obedient sex doll. I can be whatever he needs me to be. I can lie, deceive, and make him think he’s in control. But he isn’t. I am.

Playing a role is what I do best.

Without another word, I strut to the end of the hallway, throwing a glance over my shoulder to meet his stare. His expression is a mix of challenge and anticipation.

I unzip my pants agonizingly slow before letting them fall to the floor. I step out, giving them a little nudge to kick them aside. His eyes never leave me, and a small smirk tugs at my lips as I catch the tightening of his jaw.

Next, I lift the bottom of my blouse, pulling it over my head and tossing it aside. Left only in my heels, panties, and bra, I run my hands over my body with practiced seduction, letting them linger on my breasts.

His gaze follows every movement, and I can almost feel his breath quicken.

This is a game, and I’m not just playing—I’m winning.

I have to suppress a smile at his growing erection. Next, I teasingly dip my hand into the waistband of my panties and slowly slide them down my hips, letting them pool around my feet.

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