Page 28 of Corrupted Heart

Then I’m frowning at my open closet. I mean, what the fuck do you wear to a rape fantasy chase?

In the end, I go with a not-too-short skirt, moderate heels, and a cute top. I even manage to put my hair up into something other than my usual scraped-back dancer’s bun. I ignore one call from Naomi, then another from Milena. I add a touch of makeup. Then, as a last-minute thought, I open a drawer and pull out the blonde wig I got for a costume party last Halloween.

I have no idea who this person is that I’m meeting tonight. But they’re obviously a member of Club Venom, which means they may know Dante.

That means there is a very slight chance they’d know who I am. And I’d rather be safe than sorry.

I stuff the wig into my bag. Then I’m locking the door to my apartment, feeling like I’m about five seconds away from having a heart attack.

I barrel out the front door of my building, and immediately scream as I slam into a body.

“FUCK!” I choke, almost falling on my ass as I spring back. I’m met with an explosion of laughter. My heart manages to start again, and I realize it’s Naomi and Milena standing in front of me.

“Holy shit, jumpy much?” Milena laughs.

I smile weakly, trying to form a sentence. Or even a word.

“Oh, good!” Naomi beams, eying my outfit. “You read my texts!”

I blink. “Um, what?”

“My texts about us going out tonight to celebrate?”

I blink again. “I… No, I don’t think?—”

Naomi’s brow furrows and she exchanges a suspicious look with Milena.

“What are you dressed up for, then?”

Yeah, like I’m going to tell them “Sorry, I can’t go out with you. I’m actually dressed up to go get chased and fucked by a stranger from the internet in Central Park”.

I laugh weakly. “Kidding! Yeah, let’s go! But I totally missed some of those texts. What are we celebrating, again?”

Milena groans. “My dad met with Boris Chernoff this afternoon about me potentially marrying his son, Anton.”

My face pales. “Fucking hell! Are you serious?! Why are we celebrating that?”

“Because it’s all good!” Naomi chips in.

Milena beams. “Yeah, Dad killed that quick.”

“Which is great, because this motherfucker definitely lives under a bridge somewhere.”

Naomi flashes her phone, revealing a picture of a truly troll-like young Russian man wearing a track suit, with awful facial hair, the world’s worst mullet, and…

“Is that…”

“A tattoo of a girl fucking herself with a vodka bottle on his neck?!” Milena huffs. “Sure the fuck is.”

“Yikes.” I make a face.

“So yeah, that’s why we’re celebrating.” Milena flashes a thick black credit card. “On Dad’s dime, even.”

I start to grin. Then suddenly the reality of my original plans for tonight hits me.

“I—”

“Well?” Naomi turns to hail a taxi. “Where should we go first?”

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