If you could get up the courage to begin, you have the courage to succeed.

David Viscott

JENNIE

I groan as soon as I see the sign for Rogue above us, a sense of dread filling my empty stomach.

"Doyeon, I hate you."

"You're welcome."

"You suck."

"Well, you don't, because you're going to get us into the club with your newfound connections."

And I do.

Or it could be how we look tonight. Either way, the bouncer takes one look at us and ushers Doyeon and me inside, much to the chagrin of the hundred-plus people that are waiting in line. When we're personally greeted by a pretty bottle girl and led upstairs to the VIP level, I know this treatment has nothing to do with how we look.

Our first time at Rogue, we waited in line for hours with our stupid heels killing our feet. Now, we're being treated like VIPs, ushered straight from the Uber inside the club and escorted directly to the VIP level. The only thing missing is a damn limo. This has Lalisa Manoban written all over it.

The VIP level is stunning. On the sides of the room are glass walls tinted white with bright lights behind them. Through the tinted glass, I can see the outlines of dancing bodies. There are five girls on each side, their shadows forming movements that are clearly the product of formal training. We can make out their shadows, but they can't see us. It's like a one way mirror in that regard.

A long but skinny table lays in front of an expansive booth-style bench. The open booth is made of blood red velvet and is pressed against the center wall. In the middle of the booth sits Lalisa. She doesn't look surprised to see me. In fact, her beautiful face is completely void of emotion, as hard to read as ever.

Doyeon grabs my hand and drags me over to her. I nearly topple over my high heels. As we approach, I get a better look at her. She's wearing a suit, of course, but it's a dark navy blue this time. The fabric is tightened around her thighs from sitting, and Horny Jennie admires how muscular they are.

As excessive as Doyeon can be, she's right this time.

Horny Jennie needs to get laid.

I sweep a longing glance behind me, wondering if it's too late to head to the dance floor below and find a suitable candidate for what I want. I'm starting to refer to the deviant side of me in the third person.

This is bad.

How long has it been since I've had sex again?

Over two years.

I have to remind myself again and again, because I can hardly believe it. I went from having an almost-daily friend with benefits to quitting cold turkey for years. That has to be some sort of record. And not the kind I'd want advertised.

"Ladies," Lalisa greets us when we reach her. "What brings you two to these parts?" She looks all too smug for my liking.

I avert my eyes but take a seat anyways.

Doyeon speaks for me, "Jennie, here, needs to get laid."

What. The. Fuck.

I'm going to kill her. She must be determined to turn me into a homicidal maniac. Maybe then will her fantasies of Lalisa and I living happily ever after actually be realistic. I glare at her, hoping that the longer I glare the more likely I am to forget that she just told Lalisa I need to get laid.

I am so mortified.

Lalisa laughs. It actually sounds genuine, but a part of me doubts that it is. Everything about this woman is too controlled, too purposeful. Like if she doesn't benefit from something, she won't do it. So, what does she gain from having me up here? From laughing at me?

She meets my eyes. "Well, I think I can help you take care of that."

Wait… Is she actually acknowledging our hook up?

Her words are said so suggestively, so flirtatiously, that I can't conceal my shock. Doyeon even gasps.

My face whips to her so quickly, I'm left dizzy for a brief moment. "What?" I whisper under my breath, but she hears it.

There's mirth in her brown eyes when she continues, "The club is at maximum capacity tonight. There are plenty of suitable candidates below. You're welcome to bring one you like up here for some more privacy."

"Oh."

I thought… Never mind what I thought.

My eyes narrow on her. I feel like she's toying with me again, expecting me not to take her up on her offer. To instead sit here and pine for her like I have no other options.

So, I do the opposite of what she thinks I'll do and agree. "Okay. I think I'll do just that."

I get up and leave. When I'm halfway to the stairs, I can't help but turn back to stare at her, a smug grin on my face. But she isn't even looking at me. She has her phone out, her mouth frowning slightly at the screen. Doyeon's not looking at me either. She's too busy stealing peaks at her crotch.

The damn traitor.

I sigh and continue toward the staircase. From my vantage point at the top of the stairs, I scan the club for anyone that's my type. Of course, no one looks interesting after seeing Lalisa here.

I choose a random guy to dance with. He's cute and well-dressed, but he's also significantly shorter than me and a little smelly. To be honest, I'm only dancing with him because he secured a position on the dance floor that has the perfect view of the staircase leading to the VIP level.

I tell myself that I'm only interested because I left Doyeon up there with an alleged killer. I have to make sure she's okay. It's the responsible thing to do. Any good friend would do it, right? But when Doyeon descends the stairwell and is replaced by the blonde from The Hallway Incident, I don't go anywhere.

Doyeon is down here, safe and alive, but I still can't move. I don't understand myself. I watch and wait, even when Smelly Guy wraps his arm around my waist and tugs me closer, invading my personal bubble with his putrid odor.

I endure his scent of pickled cabbages, focusing all of my brain power on the stairs until I can no longer smell it. And when Blondie finally descends with a livid expression plastered all over her pretty face, I can finally breathe again. I regret it instantly.

Two words: pickled cabbages.

Gross.

I can't take the scent anymore, so I push away from the guy, mumble a quick thanks and head to the dance floor to find Doyeon.

"She kicked me out," she says as soon as she lays eyes on me. "Some chick came up to us, and she kicked me out." She grins, mischievously. "She was glaring at me the whole time, too. I think she was jealous that I had her all to myself."

I think I am a little jealous of her myself, but I'm having a hard time admitting my own stupidity

Nope.

I don't have Romance Stalker Syndrome.

No way.

I wait for her to say something more, but she doesn't. We dance instead, losing ourselves in the rhythm of the music. When strong hands slip around my waist from behind and Doyeon's eyes widen, I know that they're Lalisa's.

A part of me is convinced that I knew she was there before she even touched me. I'm definitely crazy. That's for certain.

She molds her hard body into my back, and her lips brush teasingly against my ear. "Relax."

I shudder at the contact but don't reply.

She begins to move her body against mine in a hypnotic rhythm. "Act normally."

I want to scoff. She's touching me, and she wants me to act normally? A guy with her looks and her occupation is anything but normal. Plus, I can't even spell the word "normal" let alone be it when I can feel each individual pack of her abdominal muscles pressed against my back. There are eight of them.

Eight!

"Think of this as an audition," she continues. "I'm going to cash in my favor soon, but if you don't pass this audition, I'll have to ask you to do something else for me. And I guarantee you, it won't be as easy as what I am about to ask you." Her right arm grips my waist tighter. "Okay?"

I mull over her words. Dancing with her is an audition? My thoughts flash to what this club used to be—a strip club. Does she want to turn me into a stripper? No, that probably isn't it. After all, this isn't a strip club anymore.

Does… does she want me to give her a private strip tease? That's unlikely, too, because let's face it. I was already naked and writhing in front of her once, and she was able to stop herself so easily. Plus, all she has to do is ask and any girl will be willing. She doesn't need me for that.

But a part of me—named Horny Jennie, of course—isn't all that opposed to the idea. In the grand scheme of things, that's fairly tame in comparison to the other nefarious things she can ask of me. I think of Wilton and what I'll be sacrificing if I don't agree.

I make up my mind. She said that whatever she wants now will be easier than what she might come up with later, and I believe her. She may be super scary, but as far as I know, she has yet to lie to me.

I nod and tip my head back, leaning it against her shoulder, so she can hear me when I say, "What do you want me to do?"

"For now? Dance with me like you would do with anyone."

Except that's an impossible task, because she isn't anyone. She's someone I want to strip and hump like a dog in heat. She's also someone I want to cower and run away from. Horny Jennie and Sane Jennie are at war inside of me.

In the end, they compromise. I pretend that Lalisa is a robot, which makes her less intimidating. The thought even makes me laugh. Doyeon, who has finally recovered from seeing Lalisa again, sends me a concerned look at the sound of my laughter. I ignore her, my mind focused on dehumanizing Lalisa.

Robot, Sane Jennie says in my head.

Sex bot, Horny Jennie amends.

Fine.

Sex bot.

I can do this.

Lalisa isn't a human; she's a sex bot, something for me to use for my own pleasure.

I reach behind me and grab the side of her thigh, pulling her lower body closer to me, until I can feel her pressed against my lower back. She's soft right now, but I can tell she's generously endowed, causing the contact to send a shiver through my body.

My other hand wraps around her neck and tugs until we are pressed tightly against one another from her neck down. I grind my ass against her, moving in a sensual pace to the magnetic rhythm of the song, an erotic club mix of Selena Gomez's "Good for You."

Lalisa wants me to treat her like others, and I am. If she was any run of the mill hot and Horny Jennie was in charge, I would discretely take advantage of her in public until I can have my way with her in private. I'm not a prude. I have nothing against casual sex. Hooking up with Lalisa a month ago is proof of that. My long dry spell has everything to do with a lack of opportunity and nothing to do with a lack of effort.

So, here I am, grinding against the Romano family's fixer and enjoying it. Lalisa growls, turning me over and positioning me until my breasts are pressed against her. She slips a leg in between my thighs, and I automatically grind myself against it, my dress lifting up a little to reveal more of my skin.

I'm soaking through my underwear, and I hope I'm not leaving a wet spot on Lalisa's clothes. I barely consider this, though. I'm too lost in the moment, embarrassingly close to coming. I even forget who she is for a second, simply enjoying her company instead of worrying about the inevitable consequences.

Lalisa lowers her head, burying her face in my neck. I grip her button down at the feel of her tongue running up the length of my jaw. Her nose trails along my neck until her lips reach my earlobe, and she nibbles on it.

This is too much. I'm so close. I want to come. I need to. It's been too long. She has to know what she's doing to me. I feel the sudden urge to look into her eyes and see whether or not I'm having the same effect on her.

I sure think I am. After all, she has a massive hard on pressed against me. But my insecurities are there. They haven't forgotten how she left me that night. How I was so close to coming on her fingers, her tongue against my clit, and she was able to walk away.

When I finally gather the courage to look up, I'm rendered frozen. I notice that all eyes around us are on Lalisa and me. That isn't what unsettles me, though. It's Lalisa, always Lalisa. Her eyes are tilted upward, focused on a group of people that stand at the balcony of the VIP area. They're looking directly at us.

Understanding floods through me.

This is all a show.

Why? I don't know. All I know is I was so close to coming, and I still need the release. I thought that maybe—just maybe—Lalisa would be the one providing it to me, but I was wrong.