Chapter 1 - Annabelle
Monster.
There’s a monster in my closet, and I don’t know what to do.
I hide, but he’s always there, catching me with his demonic stare.
Will I ever be free? I don’t know.
But one thing is for sure: I will run, and I’ll take his next innocent victim with me.
He can hurt me for now, but he won’t get to hurt her—my sister.
I’ll do whatever it takes, which brings me back here.
Sinners Paradise.
I step through the main doors and head down the corridor. The music blasts so loudly that I’m surprised my eardrums don’t burst.
My long blonde wig swishes against my exposed back. My dress is green, low-cut, and backless. It has thin spaghetti straps that barely hold it in place. I would never choose to wear anything like this, but there’s no other option in a place like this.
I step through the last set of doors and nod at Mark, the bouncer. He gives me a smile in return.
He watches over us girls to make sure nothing happens. He’s a gentleman, unlike most of the patrons in this place.
The place has an exotic atmosphere that surprised me when I first walked in. The decor is black and red. The lights are dim, while strobe lights flash around the space.
Booths surround the edges, while a stage sits in the center with a bronze pole up front. Seating surrounds the stage for patrons who want a front-row view.
The VIP area is on the left of the stage. The lap-dancing rooms are to the right. They offer a private space to interact with the dancers.
For the people who know me, they’d never think someone like me would work here. I’m the shy girl. The girl that keeps her head down and never swears. I’m the nerd—the outcast.
Not here, no. I’m the girl that radiates confidence like it’s swimming in the air. How can I go from that shy girl during the day to the complete opposite at night? It’s simple. When you’re pushed so far into a corner, you start to push back. I don’t even want to imagine what’ll happen if I didn’t do this.
It might all be an illusion, but it’s an illusion I’m in control of.
I’ll do whatever it takes to escape because I’ve got to.
Men with drinks in their hands sit around the room, watching the center stage with lust in their eyes. Star dances to the music with a seductiveness that’s gaining the attention of every man in this room.
Men offer generous tips to persuade her to remove all her clothes. It’s a policy that they must tip to stay in the room. Nothing would be worse than having a sleazy guy getting a view for free.
I shouldn’t even be working here. I’m only seventeen, but my fake driver’s license got me through the door and a job I desperately need.
“Angel, you’re here!” Aria, the bartender, yells over the loud music. “We’re short on girls tonight, so hurry your ass backstage and get ready.”
I salute her with my hand so I don’t have to raise my voice over the music and head backstage. Even though my dress is revealing, it doesn’t cut it for the job. Lingerie is the only outfit we’re allowed to wear.
I nearly combusted at the idea the first night, but now I’m used to it—immune to it.
I knew it would be part of the job, but it’s one thing to know versus actually doing it.
Surprisingly, it didn’t take me long to do a one-eighty on my personality. The choice was easy once I saw how much money the girls were making. I need money to escape the monster, so I do whatever it takes.
Walking through the door, I hear the girls chattering inside. Star, Ruby, and Lily sit at their makeup stations, touching up their faces and hair.
As soon as Ruby sees me, she jumps up and hugs me. She’s the most affectionate of the girls and, in my opinion, the most lovable. This job is much like a competition, so there’s always some animosity lingering in the air.
“I’m up next, babe. Then it’ll be your set.”
“Sure thing,” I say, walking towards an empty station. I say hello to Star and Lily and open my bag to pick something to wear.
The only lingerie I own is Marvel sets. It’s pretty nerdy, but I love Marvel too much to care.
I’m not like the other girls here. I don’t come from the Southside; I come from the North. It’s like light and dark between the two places. The Northside holds all the elite—the richest of the rich.
The Southside holds all the lower class—the people who struggle from week to week.
The last thing I want is for my mom to find out what I’m doing. She would never believe my reasons because she never takes my side; she’s never sober enough to care. The only person I can count on is myself.
I remind myself why I’m here, and that’s for my little sister. My everything.
I pair a red Spider-Man set with a red garter belt and heels.
I do my hair and get changed quickly. I’ve tried to conceal what I really look like in case someone I know comes in. My red hair is now blonde, and my glasses have been replaced with contacts. I layer on the makeup until my face is barely recognizable.
I’m Angel here, not Annabelle.
I stand behind the curtain and put on my mask.
Confident.
Fearless.
Assertive.
All the things I wish I had beyond the act. Beyond the night.
If I become less forgettable, I’m scared the monster will pay more attention to me. A shudder went down my spine at that thought. No, I need to keep the two separate.
I need to be forgettable beyond these walls.
Invisible.
I pull the curtain back to watch Ruby finish up her set. Club bills fill the stage while one guy stands up and claps. He’ll take her for a lap dance, by the looks of it.
The DJ, Rich, calls out the end of Ruby’s set and then announces my name. “Give a round of applause for our next dancer, Angel. Get your club bills ready ’cause this is about to get sexy.”
I take a deep breath, take my cue, and saunter through the curtain onto the stage. My hips move side to side seductively. I place my hands on the pole and begin my first routine.
Ruby stayed behind one night and taught me how to dance on the pole. Let’s just say when I first started, I was about as clumsy as a newborn giraffe.
Now, I have grace that I didn’t even think was possible. I grew up doing ballet and transferred the skills here, making them more seductive and more sexy.
I twist around the pole, climbing to the top and wrapping the pole between my thighs. I lie back so my legs are the only thing holding me to the pole. I arch my back as the pole spins around in circles.
Sitting up and reaching back towards the pole, I hold myself so my feet face the floor and then drop down. I drop down towards the ground into the splits. The thud of my heels clacking on the ground rings through the room.
Cheers and hoots echo throughout the room as guys throw club bills onto the stage. Let’s just say that move is always a crowd favorite.
I finish off my set, leaving my G-string on. The good thing about this place is you don’t need to be naked on stage if you don’t want to. But, in a lapdance, you have to be.
My breathing is shallow, and my fake hair sticks to my back. The amount of physical strength it takes to move around the pole is unbelievable. Sweat drips down my temples as I gather the club bills from the floor.
I take one last look out into the crowd and freeze. My eyes lock onto steely grey ones that I would know from anywhere.
Storm.
He looks me up and down, studying me. His gaze would strip me bare if I weren’t already nearly naked.
Cheese sticks.
His face belongs to gods and general immortals. He’s so handsome that it’s almost painful to look at. His face has harsh lines sharpening at his masculine jaw. Storm's dark hair is short all over, and his skin is this exotic brown. The only flaw on his handsome, beautiful face is his slightly crooked nose.
Everyone knows Storm is a well-renowned fighter in the underground ring. I can only assume that’s how he’s damaged his nose. It doesn’t make him look any less perfect; in fact, it makes him look more dangerous. More threatening.
Please don’t notice me. Please. He can’t, can he? I doubt he even knows who I am. While I’m the invisible nerd at HES, he’s among the most popular.
Three guys rule over HES, the school for the elite.
Damon, Ace, and Storm.
People call them the Unholy Trinity, and for a reason. Each one of them is a king at the school. Some have even given them individual names: Damon is known as Havoc, Ace is Mayhem, and Storm, well, Storm is Chaos.
You don’t want to mess with them. I’ve seen it firsthand when people get on their wrong side. They bring total destruction.
Annihilation.
My heart rate starts to skyrocket, and my hands become clammy as I pick up the last bills. Rich calls out through the microphone, ending my set. I walk back through the curtain, trying to calm my racing heart. He won’t know it’s me. He doesn’t even know who I am.
Calm down.
Coming to stand in front of my station, I place the club bills down and start putting my lingerie back on. He shouldn’t even be here; he’s only seventeen. What in the world is he doing on this side of the city?
Your name can get you almost anything when you come from a family like his. From what I know, his dad is the CEO of the energy company Stark. They provide electricity to the whole city. To say he’s rich is an understatement.
His mom died in a tragic accident when he was younger. It was all over the news at the time. She fell down the stairs in their family home.
“Angel doll, you’ve been booked for a lap dance. Get ready and head to room five,” Aria calls out from the door.
Great, just what I need. This night is looking like I’ll make some decent money.
I fix my wig and ensure it’s secure, then touch up my makeup. Stuffing my bills into my bag, I head to the lap dance rooms.
Walking back through the main room, I’m searching the area for Storm. I can’t see him anywhere. Maybe he left? Or maybe he’s booked me. Something about that last thought is terrifying.
As I spot room five, my temperature gets ten degrees hotter. “It’s not him, it’s not him,” I chant in my head.
Even if it is, he won’t recognize you.
I push back the curtain to the small room. Storm bloody Hunter sits with his legs spread, staring at me with a cruel smirk on his lips.
“Angel, or should I call you Annabelle?”
