Doris Elizabeth Corday

Even though I wore a smile, I hated Rob B. Illion with all my heart.

He could stuff his coffee machine up his ass for all I cared.

But I hid my claws as I played this game of ours. I would be nice and funny and even vulnerable if it meant getting close enough to snatch that cold heart of his.

The devil himself, Coy, and I walked into the same boutique we had visited last time. Every inch screamed wealth — from the polished marble floors to the soft lavender scent in the air. Coy walked ahead, ever the professional, while Mr. Illion trailed behind me, likely blocking a quick escape. As though the dozens of security stationed outside wasn't enough.

"This feels familiar," I said lightly, trailing my fingers along a rack of sequined dresses.

"You know why we're here," Mr. Illion replied. "Let's not waste time."

The cheerful assistant approached, arms already brimming with dresses.

"Let's try these first," she chirped.

I followed her to the fitting rooms, throwing a glance over my shoulder. Coy and Mr. Illion had already taken their seats by the mirrors. The secretary adjusted his glasses, his expression neutral but attentive. Mr. Illion, on the other hand, lounged with his phone in hand, seemingly bored.

The first dress was a fiery red, clinging to me tightly while showing a lot of skin. When I stepped out, Coy gave a curt nod of approval. Meanwhile, Mr. Illion's gaze barely flicked up before returning to his phone.

"Too bold," he muttered.

"Too bold?" I repeated, hands on my hips. "I thought bold was the point."

"Bold isn't desperate," he replied without looking up.

I bit back the urge to snap at him, retreating to the fitting room to try on the next option.

The second dress was a short navy dress, elegant but understated.

"Better," Coy said.

"Forgettable," Mr. Illion countered, not even bothering to glance up fully.

The process dragged on. Dress after dress. Critique after critique. My patience wore thinner with every smug comment Mr. Illion made.

Then, I slipped into the last dress.

A short silver cocktail dress, the kind that shimmered like liquid moonlight under the boutique's soft lighting. The fabric clung to me, accentuating every curve, every line. When I stepped out this time, there was a pause.

Mr. Illion's gaze lingered a moment longer than usual.

"It's good..." he murmured.

"So, this is the one then?" I asked. "Unless you'd rather I model the entire store?"

"That won't be necessary," Mr. Illion replied, standing abruptly. "We're done here."

The dress was boxed, its silver shimmer hidden away, and we left the boutique. All the while, I couldn't help but notice the way Mr. Illion kept glancing at me. It felt like I had something on my face.

By the time we reached the penthouse, the weather took a turn for the worst. Security flanked us with umbrellas, their rigid stances offering little protection from the downpour's relentless assault. Aurelia was already waiting in the lobby and greeted me pleasantly as we rode up the elevator.

The living room felt suffocating.

The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a clear view of the rain outside, the perfect backdrop to my current thoughts. Coy, Aurelia, and Mr. Illion sat on the black leather couches while I stood in the center, feeling exposed under their scrutiny.

"Lady Q doesn't hire just anyone," Coy began, crossing his legs. The miserable weather through the windows made his chestnut blonde hair look dull in this light. "She's discerning."

"No pressure," I quipped, forcing a smirk.

"This isn't a joke," Aurelia snapped. Despite the sharpness of her tone, her dark eyes softened. "Getting hired is the easy part."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"According to our reports," Coy explained, "Lady Q keeps her card in her office. She doesn't let just anyone in there either. Only women who earned a bottle of champagne get to celebrate with her in her office."

"How do I earn a bottle of champagne?"

"By bagging a high roller."

My stomach turned.

"I'd have to get a client? And do what with him?"

"Just..." Coy trailed off. "What you would usually do."

I grimaced at the suggestion. What exactly was he implying here?

"Let's try again," Aurelia said. "Show us what you've got. Seduce the room."

I hesitated.

The task was so simple, yet with everyone staring at me so intently, I faltered. I tried to summon the coyness I'd relied on before, curving my lips into a sly smile and tilting my head slightly.

"Too forced," Aurelia said.

"It's a little hard to 'seduce the room' when you're all staring at me like vultures," I sighed.

"If this rattles you, tomorrow will destroy you," Mr. Illion said.

My glare shot to him, but he didn't flinch.

"Fine," I muttered, straightening my posture.

If they wanted a show, I'd give them one. I sauntered toward Aurelia, my movements slow and deliberate. Sitting beside her, I let my fingers trace a lock of her sleek black hair, my gaze lingering on her lips before meeting her stare.

Her eyes widened slightly as she shifted her weight.

"Better," she said, swallowing.

"Barely," Mr. Illion added from his corner.

I ground my teeth to stop the insult from leaving me.

What would a man with no romantic interest know of seduction?

I'd sooner believe him attracted to a printer than a woman.

The hours dragged on. They pushed and prodded, their critiques relentless, their corrections biting. By the end of it, I was exhausted both physically and mentally.

Later that night, I was back in my room, but sleep refused to come.

My thoughts on tomorrow's task twisted in my chest like a knife that I couldn't dislodge.

I wasn't ugly, but I wasn't pretty either. I'd always welcomed my forgettable features, but now it could cost me this whole gig. Using confidence was an easy way to fool men. But women were much more critical with appearances.

And even if I got hired... It led me to my second problem.

Could I really work at this brothel? How far was everyone expecting me to go?

Did they expect me to sleep with some stranger?

Restless, I slipped into the white bikini I'd bought at the resort. The penthouse was unnervingly quiet, my feet padding silently across the cold tiles.

The storm outside had intensified, the wind howling and rain lashing against the windows. I made my way to the indoor pool, the soft thrum of the rain against glass barely registering.

The water shimmered from the city lights outside, its surface undisturbed, peaceful. I slipped into the pool, the coolness enveloping me. Floating on my back, I let the water cradle me as I listened to the storm outside.

For a moment, I almost believed the water could wash away my fear.

But it didn't.

The thought of working in a brothel continued to eat at me.

It seemed like everyone assumed I was experienced... That I had a body count too high to be bothered about.

But it couldn't be further from the truth.

I had never shared a bed with anyone. It wasn't that I never wanted to... Or that I was saving myself for something as useless as marriage... But rather because I was terrified of what could come after...

My mom didn't plan to have me. And she had taken on an insane debt to get away from my father... The thought of me ending up just like her was my worst fear.

I sank beneath the surface briefly, the water muffling the weight of my thoughts, the storm outside becoming a distant, thunderous rumble.

Was this task really something I could do?

As I resurfaced, a voice sliced through the quiet.

"You're awake late."

I gasped softly, the water rippling as I turned toward the edge of the pool.

Mr. Illion stood there, his dark silhouette illuminated by the soft blue glow of the pool lights. Hands buried in his pockets, his expression was shadowed and unreadable.

"Couldn't sleep," I said, running a hand over my face to push back stray droplets. "Needed to clear my head."

His lips twitched in what might've been a smirk.

"And? Has the great Doris Elizabeth Corday figured it all out yet?"

I cringed at that.

"Don't ever mention my first name again," I grumbled.

"Doris?"

My nose scrunched.

"Yeah."

"Interesting..."

I swam to the edge, resting my arms on the cool tiles, my breath still unsteady from his sudden appearance.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. "Come to bite my neck again?"

"Do you want me to?"

I chuckled at that.

"No thanks."

"So, why are you swimming at this time of night?" he asked.

I shrugged.

"Trying to figure out how to survive tomorrow without falling apart."

"You act confident enough," he said, his tone dry.

I hesitated, then decided on a different approach.

"You ever think maybe I'm not as confident as I act?"

His gaze sharpened.

"Oh, I'm well aware whenever you try to fool me," he teased. "Though confidence isn't about what you believe. It's about what you make others believe. Convince them, and the rest doesn't matter."

I tilted my head, a faint smile playing on my lips.

"Is that what you do, Mister Illion? Convince the world you're untouchable?"

His jaw tightened, the barest flicker of irritation crossing his face. I pushed away from the edge, swimming closer to him, my strokes slow and lazy.

"You give decent advice," I said, "despite being so willing to kill me."

His brow furrowed, his dark eyes narrowing.

"At the warehouse," I reminded him. "You really would've killed me that easily."

He paused as he fixated on a thread in his glove.

"The gun was empty, Miss Corday."

I stopped.

The ripples in the water faded back into stillness as I processed his words.

The gun was empty?

No way...

Surely, he's only saying that to get me on his side...

I eyed him skeptically but caught no deceit in his gaze. In fact, he seemed rather embarrassed to admit he wasn't going to kill me.

"Then that makes it twice you've shown mercy... Why?" I asked.

He stepped closer to the edge, his polished shoes only inches from the water. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw something in them.

Something human.

But it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"You want an answer?" His voice lowered. "I don't owe you one."

I swam closer, until I reached the steps.

"Have you grown a soft spot for me, Mister Illion?" I asked.

His hand flexed through his leather glove.

Despite how pushing him had ended up last time for me, I couldn't stop. I took my time getting out of the water, taking a step with each point I was making.

"I bet you've never had a woman around this much before. I bet you have no idea what to do with yourself. That's why you bit me like some wild animal, right? You like to control everyone around you, but I bet you have to control yourself more than anyone else. You're not domesticated at all. You just pretend to be."

I stopped right in front of him. And even though he was much taller, for the first time, I didn't feel all that small.

"Watch it, Miss Corday," he warned.

Lightning struck outside, flashing across the two of us for a second. And in that second, I saw Mr. Illion for what he really was.

I saw what he was keeping restrained.

And I don't even think he knew it himself.

"What? You going to attack me again?" I smirked.

I had to win this round. I had to reclaim control over what had happened last time. So, I crossed my arms over my chest in a way I knew would attract his attention.

"Go on," I challenged. "I think I like it when you act like an animal."

Mr. Illion's body went taut, and I reveled in the way he held himself back from doing anything irrational again.

Finally, he sighed, easing the strain on himself.

"Go to bed," he said, his voice steadier than I expected. "You'll need your strength tomorrow."

I didn't move.

"You going to join me?" I smirked.

A vein in his jaw pulsed as he turned away.

"Goodnight, Miss Corday."

I shook my head with a grin as I watched him disappear.

This round was mine.

***

The next evening, I stood outside the towering building that housed Lady Q's brothel — The Velvet Heart. It was a high-class bar of luxury and sin wrapped in glass and gold.

My heart thundered in my chest as I pushed open the heavy door, stepping into a world of opulence. Inside, it was like stepping into another reality. Purple velvet draped the walls, chandeliers cast a soft golden glow, and a sleek bar stretched across one side of the room. Everyone that worked here was a woman of stunning beauty.

I tried not to gawk, but the extravagance was suffocating. The air smelled of expensive perfume, priceless liquor, and branded cigars. As I walked further, I caught sight of her.

Lady Q.

She was seated on a plush chair near the bar, wearing an indigo suit. Her beauty stole my breath. She was older, perhaps in her forties, but she wore her maturity like a weapon. Her gold-blonde hair was swept back elegantly and her crimson lips curved into a knowing smile as her eyes met mine.

"Well," she said, her voice rich like vintage wine. "You must be Elizabeth. I've been expecting you."

I nodded, trying to steady myself.

"Yes, Ma'am. It's an honor to meet you."

She arched a perfect brow, her green eyes sharp and assessing as it raked over me.

"Sweetheart, I'd save the flattery for the men."

She gestured for me to follow her, and I trailed just behind. We entered a smaller, more intimate lounge area with purple couches. She seated herself again and gestured for me to stand before her. My eye caught on the tattoo just beside her cleavage. A queen of hearts.

"Turn," she said simply.

I hesitated but obeyed, spinning slowly under her scrutinizing gaze.

The silver dress really showed off my figure and I wore tall heels that hid how short my legs were. It didn't hurt either that we spent four hours on my hair and makeup.

"You're pretty enough. I suppose..." she said, her tone dismissive, as though the compliment barely mattered. "But pretty is common. I see hundreds of girls like you every day. What makes you special?"

I swallowed, my throat dry.

"I can handle people," I said, shrugging confidently. "I know how to get under their skin, make them talk, make them want more. I can play whatever role you need me to."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, I thought I'd overstepped. Then, her lips quirked into a small smile.

"Attitude," she murmured. "Now, that is something rare. Your looks might not dazzle, but your presence... That's premium. You remind me of a younger, dumber version of myself."

I didn't know whether to be insulted or relieved.

When she rose from her chair, I let out a quiet breath.

"You'll start as a server," Lady Q declared. "Let's see if that attitude of yours can translate into performance. You'll work the floor tonight. Make an impression, and we'll talk about moving you up."

"Tonight?" I asked.

Her sharp gaze narrowed, her jewelry glinting ominously under the golden chandelier's glow.

"Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," I assured her quickly, forcing confidence into my tone.

She studied me for a moment, then nodded.

"Good. Then let's get you dressed properly. You're not showing nearly enough skin."

With that, I was whisked away to a room overflowing with dresses while a stylist got to work on me.

Lady Q was apparently inspired with what I showed up in but wanted to enhance what was there. The new dress was silver as well, though made of sheer fabric that left next to nothing to the imagination. It was only a handful of strategically placed sequence beads that kept me decent enough.

My choker stayed, but Lady Q added silver chains that draped over my body like armor masquerading as jewelry. It offered more coverage than the dress, honestly. To finish the look off, she crowned me with a platinum blonde wig that flowed just past my shoulders.

I stared at my reflection in the gilded mirror and hardly recognized the woman staring back.

I looked like someone who didn't just belong in this world — but who owned it.

"Perfect," Lady Q purred. "Now go make them remember you."

And like that, the night began.

The bar was more crowded than I anticipated, the air thick with cigar smoke and the low hum of conversation. Men lounged like kings on plush chairs with women draped over their laps. Laughter wove through the room elegantly, entangling with romantic piano notes.

The most surprising part was how the clients all wore masks. It was likely to protect their reputations — whoever they were.

The moment I stepped inside, the air shifted. Conversations paused and eyes snapped to me like magnets. Their stares burned against my skin, but I smiled through it.

It was only when my gaze landed on a specific pair of eyes that I faltered. Even with his mask, I could recognize him in a heartbeat.

No way...

Of all the men...

Why did he have to be here?