Page 13 of Vengeful King

“Well, what?”

“Why do you want to work here?”

Her response is immediate. It unlocks something like a magic key; I didn’t expect such a quick reaction. There’s a look that passes over her face; one I know well. It makes her eyes darken, adding a shadow where there wasn’t one before.

“My mother,” she says. “She has medical issues. A lot of bills. I need money for them.”

There’s a part of my brain that reacts to that, something that lights up. A memory of when I was visiting the hospital almost every day, watching my mother lie still and silent.

But I don’t let it touch me. I don’t mix business and private life; I can hear Kate Winters tell me her sad story, and it doesn’t affect me.

I nod. I’m not entirely satisfied with her answer anyway; it doesn’t tell me why she came to my club instead of any old cashier job. There are easier ways to make money, simpler ways. But then again, my dancers make good money. Maybe she guessed as much.

“Boyfriend? Husband? Girlfriend?”

“No one,” she says. There’s confidence in her reply again, no room for interpretation. It seems like she’s telling the truth, and I have a fairly good eye for lying.

The club is empty by now. It didn’t take long. I jerk my chin toward the stage, but I keep my eyes on her as I tell her, “Time for your audition.”

CHAPTER5

Katrina

He saysaudition,but that’s not what I hear. It’s not what I feel. I know this is life or death. Everything hinges on how well I do right now. If I can’t make it, there may not be a second chance to get this close to Lachlan. There may be no other way for me to kill him.

I have to succeed.

I swallow hard; my throat feels dry, even after all the water I’ve been drinking. When Lachlan first left me, I was offered a drink, and I took it. I felt like I needed it. How else was I going to get through the night?

But after a little while, sipping on alcohol started to seem like a bad idea. I need my wits, need as clear a head as possible. I’m feeling wobbly enough, uneasy enough without adding alcohol to the mix.

And something tells me Lachlan doesn’t like his employees to get drunk.

He walks away from me, and I try not to give in to the urge to run. Instead, I watch him, trying to gauge whether there’s a way to get close to him. Maybe seduce him. Anything to make this go my way.

He walks dangerously, but not like he’s trying to be intimidating. Like he’s a big cat, a panther or something, full of muscle and power that’s unused until the moment he strikes. He’s simmering with potential. He could turn on anyone around him at the drop of a hat.

Maybe I don’t have to worry about his bodyguards. Maybe he’s dangerous enough by himself.

I can’t run from this. I keep my breathing as steady as I can and walk to the far end of the club, where the stage sits. It’s just as refined as the rest of the club; you could mistake it as a spot for live music. I step up onto the stage and try to keep my balance. I need to make a good impression.

Lachlan walks to a panel near the back of the dance floor; he adjusts the lights, making the club black in the blink of an eye. The only lights left illuminate the stage.

I can’t see him.

I can’t see anything. It’s pitch black, the rest of the club swallowed by darkness. It feels immediately better, but there’s an undercurrent of terror to it. A warning in my head. A reminder that I can't see what’s waiting for me; I can only do what I came here to do. I can only dance.

The lights are hot on my skin. Even with barely any clothes on, I can feel them burn me. They feel like they’re piercing my skin, turning me inside out. I feel like any second, a gun will appear from the darkness and it’ll be over.

He’ll say,I know who you are. I know you were sent here to kill me. And I can’t let you do that.

But after a few seconds of standing in the dark, nothing happens. He’s just auditioning me, and I need to dance for him.

I’m not totally out of my depth. I’m not unfamiliar with stripping. I did it for a little while in high school; I lied about my age, learned how to do my hair and makeup to try to look older. I learned how to talk. Learned how to pass without trying too hard.

But that stopped after my cancer diagnosis. I didn’t have the energy to dance as I was going through treatments, and I never started up again after the cancer went into remission.

Still, the moves aren’t totally alien to me. It’s been a while, but I can feel myself slipping back. I just have to let myself go, to drift back to that place, that time, and let it guide me.

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