He gestures at me with his black latex hand. “Ms. Payne,” he greets.

  I continue on without stopping. It’s what I was told to do.

  The second floor is crowded, making goosebumps raise on my skin. It’ll be all right, though. He’ll make me feel safe. He always does.

  I head toward the St. Andrew’s cross in the corner and stand in front of it. My reflection stares back at me and I smile into it as I open my trench coat.

  The blood red corset hugs me so tightly I can barely breathe. I suppose that’s the point but I have a bit of a history with not breathing on crosses. I would like to not repeat it.

  But I have my instructions.

  I slide the coat off and let it fall to the floor. I step up to the X-shaped cross, my feet feeling twice as heavy in these thigh-high leather boots.

  “Oh—”

  I step down and bend over to fish into my coat pocket for my blindfold. Wouldn’t want to forget that.

  I return to the cross, take one last look at myself in the mirror, and place the blindfold over my eyes. It blocks out every sliver of light around me, plunging me into an epic darkness that sets my nerves on fire.

  I place my palms on the cross and wait.

  My hearing piques and I listen to the sound of feet and voices behind me. I focus on my breathing, counting each inhale and exhale until I lose count. I feel eyes on me but I can’t tell whether or not they’re his. Is he here already? Standing behind me and staring this whole time… just to see if I’ll break?

  Finally, a flogger tickles my bare shoulders.

  I smile. “Mr. Snow?”

  “Hello, Ms. Payne,” he says, his voice so close. He moves in behind me and kisses the back of my neck. “You look beautiful.”

  I roll my head back and his lips graze my ear. “Thank you.”

  Clive reaches around me and pinches my chin. He draws me toward him for a kiss but I don’t dare move my hands from the arms of the cross. I feel his skin on my back and his body heat blends with mine. He’s not wearing a shirt.

  His fingers move down my shoulder, traveling up my arm to my wrist. “Are you ready?” he asks.

  I tremble, unsure. “I think so.”

  “Tell me when it’s a yes.”

  I take a deep breath, holding it in as it nourishes me, but it’s his capable hands on my body that brings me home.

  “Yes,” I say. “I’m ready.”

  He steps back but his presence never leaves my side. He takes my hand and wraps a thin rope around my wrist before binding me to the fasteners on the cross. I smile, enjoying the thought of submission. I’m in no danger. He’ll take care of me.

  Clive ties up my other hand and fixes the rope to the cross. “How does that feel?” he asks.

  “Good,” I answer.

  He presses in behind me again, unable to resist a few nibbles on my neck. I sure as hell don’t mind. I let out a quiet moan as he feels up my curves.

  “We shouldn’t stay too late,” I remind him. “You have an early meeting tomorrow.”

  He laughs and drops his hands. “Don’t you ever clock off?”

  “It’s important for the new app! I am your boss…” I tease.

  “Only from nine-to-five.” He curls his arm around my waist and draws me closer to him. “In here, I’m the boss,” he says into my ear. “Say it.”

  “I’m the boss.”

  “No…” He scoffs. “Say that I’m—”

  I giggle. “You’re the boss, Mr. Snow.”

  His fingers twist my hair. “Bad girls don’t get rewarded, Ms. Payne,” he growls. “Bad girls get punished. Do you understand?”

  I quiver in his grip. “Yes,” I sigh.

  “Do you remember your safe word?”

  “Yes.”

  He runs his mouth between my shoulder blades. “Do you want me… to make you use it?”

  I shudder as I squeeze the ropes above me. “Yes, Mr. Snow.”

  He kisses my back. “Good girl.” I feel his lips curl into a smile. “I have something for you.”

  His hands move out in front of me and he lays something around my neck and fastens it. He pinches my blindfold and pulls it over my head to show me.

  I look at our reflection in the mirrored wall. It’s a thin, black choker just like the one he gave me before. Simple and classy with that shiny, dangling—

  My jaw drops. “Wait, is that real?”

  He smiles. “Yes, it is. Figured I’d put my first good paycheck to decent use.”

  “Wow…” I admire it for another second before my gaze finds its way to his bright, blue eyes. “Thank you.”

  “I want you all to myself, Ms. Payne,” he says. “If you’ll let me. Again.”

  I turn my head to kiss him and he wraps his loving arms around me.

  “Yes, Mr. Snow.”

  Thank you for reading PRETTY LITTLE THING and for completing my flirty collection! I hope you had fun with it. Bringing a smile to readers’ faces is what gives me life. :)

  I had one job.

  Stand up tall, look pretty, and don’t fall for the lawyer trying to put my father in prison.

  I had one. fucking. job.

  Turn the page for the first chapter of Trix’s story, PRETTY DIRTY TRICK!

  Excerpt: Pretty Dirty Trick

  Trix

  “Dammit.”

  Not again.

  I look out my bedroom window at the busy Chicago street below. Cars and pedestrians hustle by, either to work or church or shopping or whatever it is normal people want to do with their Sunday mornings. Not my problem nor my business in any case — except for the tall man lingering on the corner outside of his black car, leaning against the hood and staring at my goddamn front door.

  Marcus.

  His dark head tilts upward as if he feels me staring at him. I twist away behind my curtains to avoid his eyes. My apartment is on the fifth floor, so I doubt he saw me but then again, it’s his job to know exactly which window to look at.

  He’s my family’s bodyguard. And my fuck buddy. Former fuck buddy, I should say, but Marcus hasn’t quite got that little detail into his thick skull yet.

  I stomp my heel. “Go the fuck away,” I mutter to myself, needlessly waving my hands to banish him.

  I take another quick peek through the curtains and heave a thick sigh at him. He’s not going anywhere. He’s going to stand there until I come outside and I’ll have to once again tell him how so very not interested I am in him or his cock he so delightfully keeps sending me unsolicited pictures of.

  I don’t have time for this shit.

  I grab my black denim jacket and throw it on over my peach tube top and blue jeans. If Marcus isn’t going to let me walk out my front door undisturbed then I’m going to have to find another way out of here.

  With my small purse clenched between my teeth, I throw open my kitchen window and climb outside onto the fire escape. Before I can even tell myself not to, I stupidly gaze downward at the alleyway below. My nose recoils from the stench of trash, oil fumes, and other shit but it’s either this or talk to Marcus.

  I’ll take the other shit.

  I slam the window closed behind me and start my slow trek down the ladder. Heels were a bad idea in hindsight but at least I’ll look good when I get down there. Assuming I don’t fall and kill myself in the process but that’d still be a better alternative than enduring yet another awkward encounter with Marcus “Do you like that, baby?” Donner, my father’s favorite errand boy.

  Sure, it was fun at the start. Two silly teenagers doing silly things behind my family’s backs. Sneaking off to the abandoned campgrounds while my half-brothers launched firecrackers at each other on the Fourth of July. Hooking up after the homecoming game and on prom night and the day before he got shipped off to basic training and… okay, again when he got back and then again when he came home from Afghanistan and yeah, sure, we had sudden bursts of silly sex-having fun over the nearly ten years he’s been my father’s full-time bodyguard.

  But it was just sex. Fun, silly, no strings sex.

  Or so I thought.

  When we were young(er), Marcus knew how to take no for an answer. He’d shrug his broad shoulders, turn around, and snap his fingers like The Fonz. Some eager girl within earshot would look up all misty-eyed and she’d drop to her knees for him. Hell, he could still do that easily. He’s got that tall, dark, and handsome thing going for him but there comes a time in a girl’s life when sneaking around with the bad boy just ain’t that fun anymore.

  It’s usually around the time her father gets thrown in jail for criminal conspiracy to commit murder.

  What can I say? Girl stuff can be complicated sometimes.

  I release my grip on the ladder, letting gravity take me the rest of the way down into the alley. It’s only a couple of feet but I just barely stay upright on my wobbling heels as they clack with the concrete. My balance returns to my limbs and I hightail it out of the dirty alleyway to find a cab while slipping on a pair of black sunglasses to hide my shame. No way I’m risking going to my car with Marcus parked right outside my building’s private garage.

  It’s a quick ride through the city to Moira’s Cafe, the one happy place I still have in my hectic life right now. Hot and delicious breakfast, cold and sweet mimosas, and my two best friends in the entire world, Nora Payne and Melanie Rose. It’s where we go to leave our troubles behind, vent our frustrations, and just be there for each other through thick and thin.

  And right now, my life is a little on the thick side.

  I pay my driver and step out onto the curb, eagerly wading through the passing crowd to make it into the cafe. As I step inside, I take a deep breath, letting the very smell of the place start its loving, soothing embrace in me. I’m here. I made it past Marcus’ annoying, watchful eyes. Just a few more breaths and I’ll forget all about him.

  I walk through the entryway where two hostesses stand, one with their back to me as she folds a few napkins.

  “Good morning!” the other says, stopping me. “Do you have a reservation?”

  I laugh as I slide my sunglasses off. “You must be new here.”

  The other hostess spins around with the sound of my voice and gently bumps the other girl out of the way. “I’m sorry, Ms. Argento, you can go on in. Your party is waiting,” she says with an apologetic smile.

  The new girl’s face turns pure white.

  “That’s all right.” I wave a hand. “Don’t sweat it, hun.”

  Her smile inches back up as I continue through the restaurant. I tune an ear backward to catch the tail end of their conversation.

  “That’s the one I told you about!”

  “Oh, god. I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”

  “Didn’t you recognize her?”

  “She was wearing sunglasses!”

  I grin and carry on. I’m not offended at all. I’ve never been one to get upset when someone doesn’t recognize my face but I do love it when they turn pale at the mere mention of my family’s name.

  A little bit of fear, a little bit of awe, and a whole lot of respect. That’s the reaction the Argento family always gets. Or it was until my father got arrested and the spotlight on my family became less about our contributions to the community and more about murder and mafia conspiracy.

  But that’s a problem for Tomorrow Trix.

  Today Trix is about to get drunk.

  I round the corner and weave my way through the restaurant toward our table in the back. I hear Nora first, her tiny voice just barely reaching over the soft rumble of others nearby. Melanie is to her left, sitting back in her chair in full listening mode with her arms folded over her chest and her eyes soft on Nora’s worried face.

  “It’s a little weird, right?” Nora asks.

  Melanie scratches the back of her dirt-brown head. “No, that’s just guy stuff, Nor.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I stop by the table, grab the first untouched mimosa off the center, and down it with a few long, hard gulps. Juice and bubbles blend in my throat, surging all the way down to rest in the pit of my stomach. Warmth spreads out into my limbs. It’s a good start but we’re gonna need a lot more of these.

  When I set the empty glass down, both pairs of eyes are locked on me.

  “Hey, guys.” I lower into the last empty chair. “Please continue,” I gesture at Nora.

  She raises a brow. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  A fresh tray of mimosas appears in front of me and I flash a wink to the blessed server for his impeccable timing.

  “And a thank you to you, kind sir,” I say as I grab one.

  “Thanks, Roger,” Nora says, her eyes barely leaving me. “Seriously. Trix. Are you okay?”

  I glance at him as he walks away. “Are you ever gonna tell us how you know that guy?”

  “It’s a… long story.”

  “Fair enough.” I take a quick sip before answering. “I had to leave my place via fire escape this morning.”

  Melanie leans forward. “And you have my attention.”

  “At what point does mild infatuation become creepy stalking?” I ask.

  “The second it makes you uncomfortable,” she answers. “Is Marcus still bothering you?”

  “Yes. I’m starting to consider hiring a bodyguard to fend off my bodyguard. It’s ridiculous. I can’t live like this anymore. Every morning, he’s there, waiting outside my door, wanting to talk to me. Every night, he’s blowing up my phone, wanting to talk to me — but we all know he doesn’t just want conversation, ya know what I mean?”

  Nora nods. “Can you get a restraining order?”

  “Easier said than done,” I say. “If I did that, I’d have to distance myself from my entire family, too. That’s the last thing I want, especially since I’m joining the business soon.” I exhale, shaking my head. “Anyway, I don’t even want to think about it right now. What’s going on with you, Nora?”

  “Well…” Nora sighs. “I’ve never lived with a man before.”

  I chuckle. “Trouble in Clive-a-dise already?”

  “Not trouble. Just…” She bites her lip. “Okay. So, obviously, I asked Clive to move in with me on account of him being… you know… homeless.”

  “Right.”

  “And I was honestly a little happy about the homeless thing because I really like my place the way it is and I didn’t like the idea of a man’s stuff clashing with mine but since he has no worldly possessions, it’s not a problem.”

  I squint. “So, what’s the problem?”

  “He has no stuff!” she says, her eyes twitching with panic.

  I look at Melanie. “What am I missing here?”

  “About three more mimosas,” she quips from the edge of her mouth.

  Nora huffs. “He has no stuff, so he has to use all of my stuff.”

  I nod. “Ah, it all comes together.”

  “My shampoo, my combs, my towels, my coffee mugs.”

  “Wait, you don’t like him using your coffee mugs?” Melanie asks, laughing.

  “I’ll admit, it had its cuteness at first,” Nora says. “I mean, how many times have you seen a six-foot-tall muscular Adonis sipping out of a hot pink mug that says boss lady on it?”

  I snort. “Daddy’s awesome.”

  “Anyway, I’m dragging him out this week to pick up some new stuff.”

  Melanie tilts her head. “Thus fulfilling the horrid prophecy of him bringing a bunch of his man stuff into your place and clashing it with yours,” she points out.

  Nora nods. “Yes.”

  “So, you basically created a problem because you don’t like to share?”

  She pauses. “… Yes?”

  Melanie turns in her chair to look at me. “Okay, back to you.”

  “Nuh-uh,” I say, forcing down a belch. “Not me. Let’s do you.”

  She shrugs. “I got nothing.”

  “Not nothing. How’s your new book coming along?” I ask.

  “It’s…” Her voice fades into a long, barely audible growl. “Not.”

  Nora throws on a sympathetic face. “I’m sorry, Mel.”

  “It’s fine,” Melanie says. “It’ll get there. Eventually. Someday. Probably. Just seems like every book lately is harder to write than the one before it and I can’t figure out why.”

  I glance at Nora, locking eyes with her. “Well…” I say slowly, “maybe this is just your brain’s way of telling you to take a break. Maybe take that cruise vacation you’ve been talking about for years?”

  “Or maybe you can try dating again?” Nora adds.

  I furrow my brow at her but she doubles down.

  “It’s been about five months since the divorce, right?” she asks. “Maybe a little romance will help you write some romance?”

  Melanie scoffs. “Romance is dead.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Nora argues. “Look at me and Clive.”

  “He tried to steal from you,” I say.

  “Yeah, but…” She winces. “The rest is pretty good.”

  “How about your secret admirer?” I ask Melanie. “Anything from him? Or her?”

  “Not since my book signing,” she answers with a pout.

  “You should try and make contact.”

  “How?”

  I think for a moment. “The flowers! They come from the same place every time, right?”

  She nods. “Yeah.”

  “Go there and give them your number. Tell them to pass it along the next time someone schedules a delivery for you. Who knows? They might call and your soulmate may be on the other side.”

  Nora swoons. “Oh, yes! Yes! Do that. I like that.”

  Melanie frowns. “Sounds like the setup to a really shitty TV movie.”

  “Or… a really fun porno,” I suggest.

  “I like porn.” She nods as the server returns to take a few empty glasses off the table. “I can do porn.”

  The server pauses above her, his cheeks brightening.

  Melanie glances up at him. “You don’t know me.”

  He spins around and rushes off with his tray.

  Nora smirks. “If porn is all you’re looking for, isn’t there a certain someone we all know who’d be more than willing to—”