25. Gamble

Chapter 25

Gamble

R eliable trust must be earned. It costs a fortune.

Weeks. Years. Decades.

It's a worthy investment, one that returns tenfold, but I cannot afford to wait. I do not have the luxury of time.

Only a person in a dire situation would exchange trust for faith. Blind faith, at that. Like a dangerous game of Russian roulette. Exactly like Russian roulette.

Do or die.

It's a gamble.

It's faith.

"Hazel?" I say her name in a gentle voice as she stares out at the city blocks. An empty martini glass rests between her restless fingers as she tucks loose strands of hair behind her ear. Her bruises are fading. Hints of plum and indigo peak through the concealer, but they're almost gone. Soon, they'll disappear. Once they do, she might forget they were ever there. That's the risk. "Hazel? "

"It's late," she says, clearing her throat as she checks her Rolex watch. With a conflicted timbre in her tone, she adds, "I should go. Wei's probably wondering where I am."

"Yeah..." I trail off as I check the influx of text messages from the club's night manager. Of all the days to get sick, Bunny had to choose Whips N' Wine Wednesdays. "I need to head to the club. We're short-staffed."

Hazel raises a brow as she places three twenties on the table. "You actually work?"

"Sometimes," I snort, hitching a proud shoulder. "If I'm bored."

She flashes me a weak smile. "Sounds fun...having a choice."

Hayden's low, rumbling voice infiltrates my thoughts. He's been doing that a lot recently. I can't seem to mute him. Every time I try, he gets louder. It's almost deafening. I can't hear anything else.

"Everyone has a choice," I say as we leave the bar. I glance across the street at my club as I flag a cab for Hazel. A taxi stops almost immediately, and I open the car door for her as she slides inside and grips her handbag. She looks up at me, conflict dancing across her weary features. I tilt my head. "Let me know yours soon, yeah?"

She swallows. "I'm scared."

Me too.

"Fear forces us to be brave," I say, sucking in a sharp, cold breath.

"Yeah." Hazel nods, contemplating our conversation. "I'll text you tomorrow. "

"I'll be waiting," I say, slamming the cab door shut.

I watch Hazel drive away before I run across the street toward Suffer N' Rage. Shit, that's a big line . Vince, the bouncer, unlocks the velvet ropes for me as I waltz inside, my shoulders relaxing as comfortable familiarity soothes my nerves.

"Cami!" Javi screams my name as he runs toward me. "You're here!" He stops in front of me, adjusting his tear-away tuxedo. "Like it?" He wiggles his brows, flashing me a pearly white grin. "Kody's got a matching one. We thought maybe later after our set we could?—"

"No," I say, shutting him down immediately. I blink, surprised at myself. Clearing my throat, I offer him a gentle smile as I place a hand on his chest. "I... I think we're done with... that. "

"Oh..." He frowns, evidently confused. "Did we do something wrong?" He scratches his shiny hair. "I know it's been a while, but we just thought you were busy or something and?—"

"Javi." I rest my index finger against his rambling lips. "Get back to work, okay?" I nod at the swarms of horny patrons. "There are tips to be made." He hangs his head, disappointed. Poor kid. As he turns around, I give his ass a quick slap. He whips his head back at me and grins. "Go get 'em, tiger."

"Yes ma'am," Javi chirps, mood boosted as he saunters toward my other dancers.

"Boys," I mutter under my breath as I remove my jacket.

"I always thought you preferred men ." Leo's playful voice calls from behind. "Glad to see you're evolving."

"Leo," I sigh. It'll be 3 a.m. by the time I make it to the costume room. "What do you want?"

"Where were you?" he asks. "Violet's been trying to call you for hours. Apparently, Bunny's not coming in today."

"I know," I narrow my eyes at him. "How do you know?"

He shrugs shamelessly. "I know everything."

"Do you now?"

"Sure do," he hums, sipping on a cocktail. He gives me a knowing smirk as he asks, "What were you doing with Hazel? I saw you guys across the street. You looked... friendly ."

Friend or foe?

Another gamble.

It's a game I seem to be losing recently. But my father taught me that you can't win if you don't play.

He taught me a lot of things.

Perhaps too much.

I intend to put my education to good use. There must be a light somewhere in this godforsaken tunnel. It can't be dark forever. There must be an end.

There is always an end.

And if I can't find one... I'll blow a fucking hole myself.

"We were having a drink," I say lightly, waving Zoey over from the back bar. I hope her search was fruitful. She rushes toward us, tablet in hand. I look down at her. "Did you find a doctor? "

"Yes, and?—"

"Doctor for what?" Leo asks, interrupting Zoey. He scans my face, mild concern in his tone. "Are you sick?"

"I am sick of you ," I say, rolling my eyes. Leo scowls, unimpressed. "No, Leonardo, I am not sick, okay? Relax."

Leo twists his lips, gaze flicking between Zoey and me. "What are you girls up to, huh?" He looks around cautiously before leaning down and whispering, "Is this about the deal? Did Alba send details yet?"

"He did," Zoey says, giving me a pleading glance.

She's asking for faith.

It's like I'm giving it away for free.

Nothing is ever free.

Nothing.

But Leo has a right to know. Despite my better judgment, he needs to know.

A demolition crew can't consist of only one person.

I need a team.

A team of unreliable friends.

Or trustworthy foes.

"Show him," I finally say with a reluctant sigh that surprises Zoella. Her face lights up. "We can discuss it later...if he has questions."

Leo's forehead furrows. "Questions about what?"

" When he has questions later," I correct myself as I check the time. This conversation will have to wait. "I have to go get ready. I'm on in thirty."

Leo's jaw drops. "On?" He looks at the stage, smoke and lights swirling together in a delicious concoction of debauchery and desire. "On there ?"

I toss him a coy wink. "Better get going, Leo, or you might miss the show. "

"Not a chance, Mils," Leo smirks, gathering his wit. "I wouldn't dare miss such a spectacle."

"Right," I say as he begins to head to the spare office. I grab Zoella's arm, tugging her back as I whisper, "Keep him busy for my set." I close my eyes, struggling with the thought. He needs to know. He's a piece of the puzzle. "Tell him everything."

Zoey's eyes widen. " Everything, everything?"

"I'm placing all my chips on red," I say, my phone vibrating in my hand. "Let's hope lady luck is on our side."

"She will be." Zoey smiles as I see a new notification on my phone.

The Doc

Where are you? I need an update on phase 2.

"Go," I shoo Zoey away, chewing on my bottom lip as I reply.

Camilla

I'm working. I'll call you later.

The Doc

No. Now. Call me.

I roll my eyes.

Camilla

I can't now. I'm busy. WORKING.

The Doc

Fine. I'll come to you.

I smirk, a bolt of excitement shooting up my spine. Oh my... This could be fun. Or torturous. Hell, it'll be both. With everything that's transpired in the past few weeks, a night of mindless taunting might just be what the doctor ordered.

I hope he's ready for a taste of his own medicine.

Camilla

Great. See you soon, Doc.

"I need something with super tight latex," I tell my costume attendant as I get to the changing room. I scan the various props stacked on the back shelves. "And maybe a whip." I point to a trusted friend. "That one."

"You dancin' tonight?"

"I don't dance," I coo, grabbing the outfit from her hands. "I seduce."

"Please give a big S n' R welcome to the lady of the hour," Kody's voice booms through the speakers as deep, sultry house music slowly builds up around the club. "The one... The only... Kitty Vengeance."

Adjusting the cat woman mask strapped tightly around my head, I inhale the sweet, sweet scent of attention and allure.

This might be my last dance. The last night all eyes are on me.

And they are on me.

Every single fucking pair .

Fog swirls around my ankles as my heels thunder against the darkened platform. It's silent, not even a holler because they know...they know Kitty doesn't like disobedience. They stay silent as I emerge on the stage, the hedonistic rhythm of the bass drums growing louder and louder and louder, my heart hammering as I scan the audience.

Where are you, Doc?

When I reach the strip pole in the center of the stage, I cock my head, coiling the cold metal bar.

I give my eager spectators a smirk as I purr, "Why so quiet?" The build up in the beat grows as I grip the pole, hoisting myself up in one swift motion. "Cat's got your tongue?"

The beat drops and the club erupts in carnal roars as I slide down the pole, legs spread, abs tightened, pussy pulsing from the thrill.

For a minute, I lose myself in the music, in the energy, in the overflowing sensation of true power, of true confidence. At this moment, I am a fucking queen. With every hair flip, every grind, every meticulously practiced spin and twirl and bend, I know they respect me. My talent. My dedication.

My ability to make them wet and hard and needy .

Catching my breath as I dismount the pole, I slowly detach the whip wrapped around my thigh. My gaze sweeps the engaged audience, every single fucking person gawking at me, wanting me.

Wanting to feel me, touch me, be near me. It's stimulating, empowering, euphoric even, but it's not what I'm craving. I don't hunger for their touch, their lips, their eyes. There's only one person whose attention I want, I need, I desire.

Hayden was right.

I do want to hurt him. I want to make him suffer. I want to put him through tantalizing torment and titillating torture.

I want him to feel some of the pain that he's caused me. I want his heart to hammer, his cock to tense, and his eyes to shut. I want to hurt him so that I can stop hurting. So that I can be free. Be free of this gnawing sensation that lingers in my heart, in my brain. The feeling of helplessness. Because I am. I am helpless.

I stride to the edge of the stage, swaying my hips as I match the sensual rhythm of the music, slashing the whip against the hard platform. My purposeful gaze floats across a sea of wrong eyes until I find him , and then the music fades. It damn near stops.

All I hear is him. All I see is him. All I want is him .

Every atom in my body buzzes as I take in his disapproving glare, his stiff posture, his hooded eyes. Hayden leans against a mental pillar, shaking his head subtly. He's upset. Angry even. Good. Fantastic actually.

With a conniving smirk, I hop off the stage and march toward him, brushing my fingers against the willing bodies of my patrons, my audience, my fans. Their voices are muffled, and their pleas for a dance are ignored.

I'm on a mission.

And I've got my target locked.

"Doctor," I breathe out, my breasts pressing against the tight latex bodysuit as I feather my fingers along his black T-shirt. My core clenches at the firmness of his chest, my palm feeling the frantic beating of his heart. "A dance?"

Hayden's lip twitches, his entire body radiating with possessive restraint as he grabs my wrist, yanking me toward him. His hot breath bashes against my ear as he inhales, grunting out in a debilitating tone, "What are you doing to me, Camilla?"

"Sit, Doctor." My breath hitches, a tiny moan slipping past my lips as I meet his smoky gaze. Fuck . I latch onto his hand, drag him to a nearby chair and throw him down. "Comfortable?"

"Not at all." He grits his teeth, glaring up at me, the bulge in his pants noticeable and oh so enticing. "I'd prefer a dance...in private ."

"Really?" I glance over at the private rooms, grinning because I know the Platinum Suite is free tonight. Leaning over, I place my hands on his knees, my breasts mere inches from his wet, wanting lips. "That could be arranged." I spin around, sitting on his lap. His hard cock presses against my ass as I recline against his chest, my fingers raking through his hair. "But on my terms this time." My tongue grazes his lobe as I whisper, "What do you say, Doc?"

"Yes," Hayden groans, digging his nails into my inner thighs as I rock my hips against him.

A sweet, maniacal chuckle leaves my lips as I adjust my position and dig my heel into his foot—not too hard—I don't know his limits but enough to make a fucking point .

"Yes, what?"

His pupils dilate, a duality of arousal and irritation brimming from his being. "Yes Madam," he grunts, unable to stop his wandering hands as he explores the curves of my body. "Fuck, Cami..." He swallows, tensing in his seat. "I want you so fucking bad."

"What do you want, Doc?" I whisper, continuing to grind against his lap. "You want to fuck me?"

"I want you ." He inhales as if he's breathless, unable to absorb enough oxygen. "I want all of you." He brushes my hair away. His lips find my neck as he grumbles, "Every inch of your skin." My core clenches, heat collecting in the most infuriating way. He feathers microscopic kisses against my shoulders. "And every piece of your deranged fucking heart."

I gasp at the tempting and taunting pleasure of his words, but there's a blockage. There's a disconnect. I want to believe him. I want to give him everything. But I can't. Not yet. Not until I know he won't break me. That he won't annihilate the last shred of hope I have left.

"I don't have a heart, Hayden," I whisper, detaching myself from his grasp. I hover over him, holding out my hand as I extend an invitation to a place of no return. "You broke it."

"I can fix it," he says with absolute resolve as he laces his fingers through mine. "I promise."

"Maybe," I say, tilting my head. "But first..." I nod to the Platinum Suite. "I need to break you."

"What's in the room?" he asks in a low murmur, standing up.

"Pleasure," I whisper, guiding him toward the suite. I crane my neck, anticipation coursing through my veins as I toss him a smirk. "And pain."

He's not fazed. Not a bit.

"Whatever it takes."

I smile. "Good start."

But it's just the beginning.