Page 52 of Hero Worship

Something about having Ash behind me, about knowing I was his even as I prepared to seduce a killer... it made everything sharper. More intense. The thought of the dangerous game ahead had my cock hardening in my lace panties.

"Remember," Ash's voice dropped lower, his breath hot against my ear. "You're mine. No matter what happens out there, no matter how deep this cover goes. You belong to me."

His words settled something in my chest, calming the familiar BPD spiral of too much, not enough, wrong wrong wrong. With him, I never had to choose between parts of myself or fit into neat categories. He saw all of me and wanted me exactly as I was. This wasn't like all those times I'd used my body as a weapon,seeking validation through a stranger's touch. Back then, each encounter had been a desperate attempt to feel real, to quiet the relentless thoughts that I was nothing, worthless, empty. But now I had purpose, control, someone who saw me as whole even when I couldn't see it myself. This was a mission. And more importantly, I had someone to come back to.

"Yours," I agreed, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "Though you might want to ease up on the caveman act if we're going to sell this cover."

His smile was all predator as he pressed closer, letting me feel exactly how affected he was by my outfit. "You think Roche will believe a man could have something like you and not want to show it off?" His teeth grazed my neck, just hard enough to make me gasp.

"Later," I promised, though my body screamed for more. "After we make contact. After we find Misha."

The reminder of why we were here sobered us both. Ash stepped back. "Nikolai's intel puts Roche at his usual table by now. You ready?"

I checked my reflection one final time, adjusted the knife concealed at my thigh. "I was fucking born ready."

The club rose like a gothic cathedral gone wrong, all black stone and wrought iron transformed into something decadent and dangerous. Where religious iconography should have been, there were twisted metal sculptures of beautiful figures forever frozen in poses that might have been ecstasy or agony. The entrance was unmarked except for a small brass plaque bearing the club's name in elegant script, while velvet ropes held back a crowd of Paris's most beautiful in their darkest finery.

The doorman's eyes flickered over Ash's credentials before he unclipped the rope, not even bothering to check my ID. Smart man. We'd chosen this outfit specifically because it made me look exactly like the kind of prey Roche preferred. It was acalculated risk. The barely legal look might attract unwanted attention from other predators in the club, but that could work in our favor. Let them watch. Every pair of eyes on me was another witness who could place us here if things went wrong.

The bass vibrated through the floor, and Ash winced, shifting his weight off his bad knee. I wanted to ask if he was okay, but I didn't dare draw attention to his one weakness. Not here. Not now.

The air was thick with competing scents of expensive perfume, spilled champagne, and underneath it all, the metallic tang of desperation. The temperature dropped as we descended, the club's climate control fighting a losing battle against the heat of writhing bodies and the cold stone walls. Every surface held that particular sticky sheen unique to high end nightclubs at peak hours, where even the expensive finishes couldn't quite disguise what humans did in the dark. A spiral staircase dominated the entrance, its black marble steps disappearing up into dark. The writhing figures on the walls were definitely not saints, their gilt faces caught in expressions that belonged in heaven and hell both.

The main floor of Le Voile was a carefully orchestrated chaos of beautiful people and pulsing music. The kind of place where the cover charge could feed a family for a month and the champagne started at four figures. Exactly where someone like Roche would hunt.

I felt eyes on us as Ash guided me through the crowd, his hand never leaving my back. The possessive touch wasn't just for show anymore. We both needed the contact to stay grounded. To remember that this was a mission, not just another night of me trying to fill the hollow spaces inside me with chemical courage and stranger's validation.

Nikolai's men had secured us a booth with clear sightlines to Roche's usual table while maintaining enough distance to avoidseeming eager. I caught Anton's eye across the room where he lounged against the bar, playing his role as our security perfectly. The rest of his team was scattered throughout the club, ready to intervene if things went sideways.

My phone buzzed for the fourth time that evening. Xavier again. I silenced it without looking at his latest message about my fashion internship, guilt twisting in my gut. He'd been calling increasingly often since we'd landed in Paris, his texts growing more worried when I kept brushing him off with vague responses about being too busy to talk. But I couldn't deal with his particular brand of possessiveness right now. Not when I needed to stay focused.

"Dance with me?" I turned in Ash’s arms, letting him see the need in my eyes. This wasn't just about the mission anymore. I needed his touch, needed to feel claimed before I had to play bait for a murderer.

Ash's eyes darkened as he pulled me to my feet. "Anything for you, baby."

The dance floor was a press of beautiful bodies, but Ash carved out space for us like he owned it, his movements controlled to favor his bad leg. His hands settled on my hips as I moved against him, letting me take the lead while making it look like he was in control.

"Let me guess," I murmured against his ear, rolling my hips in a way that made his fingers tighten. "Last time you were in a club, they were still playing disco."

His grip turned bruising. "Behave yourself, brat."

"Or what, you'll throw out your back trying to keep up with me?" I pressed closer, letting him feel every movement. "Don't worry, Daddy. I'll be gentle with you. Wouldn't want to strain anything."

"Keep running that pretty mouth," Ash growled. "See what it gets you later."

I caught Roche watching our little display in the mirror behind the bar, their expression calculating. Good. Let them see how Ash handled my bratty behavior, how easily he turned disobedience into a game of control.

The rhythm of the music shifted to something darker, more primal. I let myself get lost in it, channeling every ounce of training into making this performance perfect. Each movement was designed to draw attention while maintaining the illusion of spontaneity. This was what I'd been trained for, to be both weapon and lure, beauty and blade.

"They’re watching," Ash murmured against my ear, his voice pitched low enough that only I could hear. "Time to move to phase two."

I caught Roche's reflection again as Ash guided me off the dance floor. The designer sat like a spider in their web, surrounded by beautiful people but focused entirely on us. On me. Their expression was hungry as they watched us over the rim of their crystal glass.

Misha sat at their right hand, ethereal in what I recognized as a piece from Roche's latest collection. The architectural lines of the suit emphasized both strength and vulnerability, transforming him into living art. His pupils were blown wide, movements sluggish as he reached for a glass that was never quite empty. The subtle tremor in his hands, the glassy sheen to his eyes… Classic signs of benzodiazepines. But there was something else in the jerky way he blinked, the micro-twitches at the corners of his mouth. They’d probably mixed the benzos with ketamine or something similar. The combination would keep him compliant while maintaining the illusion of consciousness for the public eye.

A server materialized beside our table, her French rapid and musical. Ash responded smoothly in kind. I watched hisreflection in the mirrored walls as he ordered, noting how Roche's attention sharpened at his perfect accent.

"Louis XIII," Ash told me in English, his hand sliding higher on my thigh. "And something special for you, my love."

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