Page 86 of Play Dirty
My hands shake, dropping the note, I focus on the other packages. Inside is a USB. Nothing else, just a single thumb drive. My stomach knots as I walk towards my MacBook, placing it into the USB port.
The room is familiar.
Velarium.
The deep familiar sound of my father’s voice cuts through the video, then I seehimnaked, his head hanging low as he watches my father undress, slowly walking around the bed like a predator sizing up his prey.
I slam the computer shut, not being able to stomach any of it. Sickness creeps into my gut as the realization slowly dawns on me. He didn’t just touch Nico, but my father owned him. And I was the one who delivered him. Who would have thought that my own need had created such a deep scar within Nico? The man I trusted most– my dad– is the same man who broke the man I love. I want to scrub off my skin, claw my father out of me.
Make myself bleed just to feel clean. To be anything other than his daughter.
I’ll fix this. I can. I fucked up Nicolas’s life in many ways. The least I could do is try to repair some of the damage and prevent anything else from hurting him. Even if in the end I never get him or a happy ending. This is how I save what’s left of my heart and the man I gave it to. Making one final decision, one that will hopefully free him from his prison, I grab my phone and text the only person who can give me what I want.
Can we talk?
Bubbles appear and then disappear.
Brad
Sure, what can I do for you?
Maybe answer a couple of questions.
Brad doesn’t answer after reading my message, biting the corner of my nails. I offer him the one thing he’s never had. Me.
I’ll let you use me.
The response is immediate.
Brad
U know where to find me. Show me what ur willing to do for answers baby doll.
The words slam into me like a freight train, unleashing a need for revenge and to kill him with my own hands. To destroy him.
Chapter Thirty - Four
Shiloh
The doors slide open at the club – silent and expectant, like they've been waiting for me. No one stops me; no one questions me as I walk inside. They all know why I’m here. Why are they all here tonight?
I descend the staircase slowly, and the memory of Nico on his knees comes to the forefront of my mind. Each step echoes in my ears like a countdown, and my hands clutch onto the small bag that contains everything I’ll need. It’s not only the club that can play dirty — I can too. The mask clings to my skin, the black silk dress trails behind me like ink in water.
It’s cold, not from the blaring AC, but the kind that lives within these walls. At the base of the staircase is a velvet draped hall, a woman with red wine dark lips that I recognize as Ms. Medina hands me a keycard. I try not to look too hard, and she doesn’t even look my way as she says. “Down the hall. Room ten.”
She doesn't even blink. The warmth I've come to know— gone.
I push the door open and walk into hell. The room smells like money and rot. Leather furniture creaks from the brutal grinding. The aroma of whiskey and sweat fills the space. Laughter slithers through the candlelit haze – slow and indulgent, like the joke is on the world.
So many of my friends' parents hide behind their masks. The donors.
For a second, I find myself looking for my dad and feel relieved when I don’t find him. My gaze locks on Ezra, who has two of the new girls hanging off him. His father gropes on them while smoking a cigar, laughing. By the look on E’s face, the joke has gone over his head.
Some of the girls are on the masked men’s laps, and one of the new players is chained to a leash held by another donor as he licks white powder from a table. Another girl cries into her champagne as greedy hands fondle her cunt. Disgust rolls through me, but nothing beats the shock of finding Zayden.
He is on his knees, with Thiago’s cock deep in his mouth.
My hand shoots to my mouth to stop myself from screaming.
