Page 1 of Red My Lips

Prologue

Gage

The clink of the poker chips landing on the growing pile punctuates the silence of the room. All eyes are zeroed in on the man sitting opposite me while they await his next move.

Will he call? It’d be an interesting move, considering he’s out of chips. But if he folds, he’ll be lying down to let me win. And he can’t do that after the trash he’s been talking all week leading up to this game. No, Jonas has dug himself into a very deep hole.

And I’m about to bury him in it, alive and screaming.

The blonde curls hanging over his forehead don’t hide the sheen of sweat on his brow that belies his calm expression. He’s trying to play it cool, but I can read him like a book, and I know exactly how this next scene plays out because I’m the one writing it.

“Go ahead, Jonas,” I say as I casually lean back in my chair. “There’s no shame in folding. Forty million dollars is a lot of money to lose, no need to add your dignity.” The condescension in my voice lets him know what I really think of him. His lips press into a firm line as he looks between me, the pot, and what he’s sure is a winning hand.

He’s fucking wrong.

“Nice try, Lawless.” His attempt at returning banter falls flat under the pressure of the situation. “You might have more chips, but you can’t beat my hand.”

“Then it’s a pity you have nothing to bargain with. Cards mean nothing if you can’t pay to play.” I can see when my words spark the idea. He’s a puppet in my hands.

“I have something to play, and it’s worth plenty,” he counters.

“Oh, really? Is it as worthless as your nonexistent chip pile?” I ask and the other players chuckle around the table.

“It’s not fucking worthless,” Jonas spits through clenched teeth. “It’s the hottest nightclub in Chicago. I’m putting up Inferno.”

I tilt my head in consideration. Unlike him, my poker face is unreadable, masking the exhilaration coursing through me. That saying about horses must be bullshit, because I just led this ass to water and made him drink. Now, the real fun begins.

“You think one club covers everything?” I scoff, looking around the room like I don’t believe it.

“It’s worth plenty.”

I remain skeptical, playing it up just to piss him off a little more before I sigh good-naturedly.

“Alright, you can put up your little club. But not just the building—the employees, the vendors, the backroom deals. Everything.” I know how Jonas does business, and I don’t want any surprises. He doesn’t get to leave the building and take all the furniture with him when he moves out.

There’s hardly a beat of pause as he considers the offer.

“Deal.”

“Put it in writing.”

Jonas is offered a napkin, which he uses to write out the terms of the deal in full. At the bottom, he signs his name with the date. Then he tosses the napkin, worth millions, onto the pile of chips in the center of the table.

“Alright Jonas, time to show your hand.” When he lays his cards down, adrenaline runs through me—dark, twisted, and thrilling.

He has a full house, which would usually be a good hand—a winning hand even. If I didn’t have a straight flush. The color drains from his face as I show what I’ve been holding. A satisfied grin slowly spreads across my face as I stand to lean over and collect my winnings. Jonas’ hand shoots out to snatch up the napkin before I can. I stare into his eyes, watching the five stages of grief warring in them.

“Are we going to have a problem?” I ask, a sharp edge to my voice. Playing with such high stakes leads to severe consequences, and you always pay up. There is no other option. He can grieve all he wants as long as the stage he lands on tonight is acceptance.

Jonas stares at me for a moment, his mind reeling, before he finally pulls his hand back. Picking up the napkin, it carries a weight far heavier than a scrap of paper. I have so much planned for this contract and everything it represents.

This is the beginning of everything.

Chapter One

Jill

The next man to ask me what I’m doing after work is getting stabbed.

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