Creed’s Honor by Simone Nicholls

I was taught the right way to apply lipstick at the age of nine. I knew how to shape, fill, shadow, and contour my lips before I was fourteen. I got my first lip filler at sixteen. My mother believed your worth was determined by your reflection in the mirror.

It was ingrained in me at a young age that the lips were the gateway for men’s fantasies.

I was nineteen when I had my first shaping liposuction. Did I need it? Well, it depended on who you asked.

I was twenty when I started working in the family’s business. Elite Escorting. This meant I was the girl those billionaires fucked in the late hours of Friday night when they told their wives they were still working late. My mother was a Madam. She ran the most prestigious service that you wouldn’t even know it existed.

She prided herself on her girls being the image of perfection. We had to allure, seduce, and fill their every fantasy. She sold the forbidden fruit. The girls they wanted would do anything for their fix. It was our job to keep them hooked, tease, and mainly keep them coming back.

So a few cosmetic touch-ups were considered maintenance. After all, what girl at the age of twenty could say she earned a high six-figure within months?

My mum was not only a successful Madam but also a successful businesswoman. Her elite girls had to be able to do everything because her high-end clients wanted more than just sex—they wanted a package, an experience. A woman they could dine, flaunt to the public, a woman who could hold a conversation. Then when they wanted, the girl was to open her legs or get on her knees and fulfil his needs.

I often wondered, was I heading to hell or was I living in it. Was a nightmare nothing but our circumstances—that we created? That living with our mistakes, our decisions—was that the true meaning of hell. Because most days, I felt I was in hell, ruled by the devil of money and expectations—the expectations that society cast on you, and the money you needed to live a lifestyle that your actions created.

I decided to spread my legs for a price, at the end of the day, so it didn’t matter if I got paid thousands, hundreds, or cents. I traded my morals for money. At the same time, someone on the outside wouldn’t know what I did, unless they knew me.

I did know.

So I could fool them that I was a functioning mid-twenties adult, but at the end of the day, I had to live in my mind, and my mind was nothing but chaos, ruled by dark demons where I continually asked myself, What the fuck am I doing.

Some days I wondered if I was mentally ill for the lies that others believed of me. Other days, I believed the lies that I told others.

But only rarely did I see who I really was. Right now, as I stared at the woman in the mirror, I didn’t know her. Her perfect make-up, constructed curves, beautifully maintained blonde hair. She even had a small smile on my face that never fell. I saw the woman everyone else saw. The only downfall was I was within her mind. I felt the weight of the lies—the dark, suffocating guilt of being a soul that did nothing but keep up a front. I watched the tailor-made mask fall from the woman’s face. And I watched as her eyes became mine. When I saw the ghost of my decisions, the hollowness, the crippling pain rise in my blue eyes, I felt a tightness in my chest.

I had always worked well with clients. Always kept a clear line between them and me. But that was before Ty. A cutthroat businessman. He was everything I was trained to entrap. The only problem was, he trapped me, not the other way around. In other words, his soft kisses, that charming smile and how he actually asked me questions, wanting to know the real answer.

In my head, I knew what we had wasn’t healthy. But I slowly began to believe that what Ty and I had was an affair more than a business relationship.

He’d hired out our usual penthouse floor and flew into town just a few hours ago. We had our typical dinner, and he was the only person in this world that felt like—he cared about me. I was in the middle of telling him that I wanted to step away from the business… the lifestyle. For some stupid reason I thought he’d encourage it, and hell, Ty was always great at giving advice. So I was sitting there in our bed after we just made love. I was bleeding to him, that who I was pretending to be and who I wanted to be weren’t the same person.

That was when his wife called. Bushing his lips across my forehead, he’d said the words that shocked me, “You’re good at your job, sweetie,” and then left. Just like that, his wife had called, and he’d left.

My heart was bleeding in front of him. And he just put on his suit as he called his pilot to fly back home while also reminding me I was in this on my own.

He went back to his wife, and I was left lying in a hotel bed. I was reminded every month when my monthly payment went in that what we had wasn’t love—it was a business transaction. It didn’t matter how much I wanted to believe he loved me or how soft his touches were. How, when he smiled at me, I would melt.

I didn’t even wipe the tears away. They just rolled down my cheeks.

I managed to get dressed, and I did the thing that was expected of me. I suffocated my emotions and went back into business mode. A client had cancelled their appointment, so I had to rebook the spot. However, I couldn’t stop thinking. Was it all forced? His laughter, the knee-buckling smile he gave me? I felt myself crumbling to pieces…tiny pieces.

I headed home, waiting for my client to confirm the next booking.

I was standing in front of the floor-length mirror now, getting ready to leave to entertain another client. The only problem was, I loved Ty. He’d stopped being a client to me a long time ago.

However, the truth was, the only reason I fell into Ty’s grips was because of Kobra. I loved him in a way that broke me, and when I broke, I went for the comfort of a stranger’s arms. Thus, I fell in love with a client. But was it really love? Right now, I was confronted by the truth… It wasn’t really love. I just needed someone.

Because I had tasted real love, and he intoxicated me. Love was smothering common sense from my mind, consuming me with an undying passion for his touch. What I felt for Ty wasn’t love. Love was pure and utter insanity. That was what love really was.

It wasn’t just the desire to be touched, to be held. No. And right now, as I stared at myself, it terrified me. Because if I didn’t love Ty, that meant I was still in love with Kobra. And all the men I had fucked believing I had moved on—meant nothing.

And just for a few moments, as I stared at the woman in front of me, I was beginning to see me, and… then there was a knock on my front door. My masked quickly flicked back up.

Forcing a smile, I turned to the side, walked to my front door and opened it as my gaze landed on the man who made me suffer these painful truths every few weeks.

Kobra Kincaid. And true to his name, he was painfully poisonous to my mind. In some ways, he drove the insanity away that I lived with daily, to face my conscience, and that scared the shit out of me.

He was a biker, and sure enough, looked as terrifying as a man that carried the name Kobra would. Now, there were clear rules when associating with bikers. Well, clear rules set by Madam—the only problem was I ignored every one of them, and I fell in love with Kobra at a young age.

Why would I want to be alone with a man who could terrify Lucifer? I don’t know. I supposed it came back to my self-destructing tendencies.

I didn’t know why, but when I stood in front of him, I felt as much a fraud as I was. Perhaps it was because he lived a life true to being who he wanted to be. I lived a life true to money, society, and the expectations of Madam.

He was stunningly beautiful and alluring, words you wouldn’t normally associate with a hundred per cent biker. But to clarify, his muscles defined his stunningly carved body, and his detailed cryptic tattoos were beautiful. The way the black swirled so beautifully into the grey, his skin was a work of art. Even though I knew most of the ink on his skin stood for things, I could never fully understate their beauty. As for alluring, well, that all came down to the look in his eyes, the sharp smouldering blue eyes, which claimed your ability to think straight and could see onto your soul—just with one look.

Kobra Kincaid cast a spell over me. In more ways than just making me see myself clearly. He fanned my wildfire of lust within me. There was a long list of reasons why I couldn’t act on those lustful feelings. One, we had a business relationship that didn’t involve fucking. He supplied my high-end clients with their drug fixes. He sold me the drugs that put my clients on benders. Essentially, he gave me another tool to keep my clients coming back.

So I gave him my normal smile and snapped out of the trance he cast. I pretended he hadn’t broken me years ago.

“Kobra,” I said, trying to act normal. Like my heart hadn’t been ripped out hours ago when realising I still loved him. That I hadn’t spent the hour after that on the bathroom floor crying, washing Ty’s scent off me and that it hadn’t taken layers of foundation and blending to cover the redness to my cheeks.

My eyes were still slightly glassy.

I opened the front door wider. “I just got Holly’s message you were stopping by,” I said and stepped right to the side as he walked in.

My phone rang, and seeing the client’s number who I had replaced Ty with tonight, I answered.

“Hey, Dylan—”

“Sorry, Jasmine, can you cancel my evening appointment. I’ve got family commitments,” he cut me off before I said any more, so I knew someone was listening.

“Not a problem, Dylan. Family always comes first. We can reschedule.” With those words said, I hung up.

It was the second man tonight to cancel me for his wife, and my name was Opal, not Jasmine. Which told me, his wife had indeed been listening—because his receptionist was named Jasmine.

That was when it ran through my mind, the cold face-slapping fact. There wasn’t one person in this world that loved me. Not one person that would cancel their plans to be with me. Not one person who cared if, come tomorrow, I wasn’t breathing.

“Opal?”

My eyes flashed off my phone and to Kobra. He was looking at me as if he knew the pain I was feeling.

“Are you okay?” he asked, shifting, slightly uncomfortable. As if asking that question went against his better instincts.

I could taste my tears, and I was quick to wipe them away. I gestured my head to the lounge room. “Her bags are in there,” I said, ignoring his question.

I didn’t know what else to say. I slipped out of my heels and walked into the lounge room, sitting down on the circular couch. If life was what you made it, it was fair to say I had made a toxic potion of co-dependency and addiction to unhealthy men.

Lightning cracked across the sky, the rain slowly getting heavier. I was completely startled when the couch dipped down near me, and I saw Kobra—who I thought would have just left after getting his sister’s things.

As my eyes ran up his neck tattoos, I slowly brought myself to look him in the eyes. I never cried in front of anyone. To say I felt nothing but shame was an understatement.

“Your date cancel?” Kobra asked.

I scoffed softly. “Come on, Kobra. Your club has been supplying Madam longer than that—you and I both know that you know what I do now.” Dragging my gaze to him.

Was he really going to pretend as if he didn’t know that I’d traded my morals and rights to have a body that wasn’t judged a long time ago?

His solid blue eyes remained locked on me, and I was surprised I didn’t see judgement in them or disgust. Kobra was known to keep his emotions close to his chest. It was another reason we never worked.

He opened his vest, pulling out a cigarette packet. “Holly didn’t mention you were back working at your mum’s.”

What was I meant to say? I just stared at him for a few moments longer. “Kobra, what do you want me to say?” Did he really want to hear it? That I ran back to that life as soon as he walked out of my life?

His lips formed a faint line. “I thought you’d walk from it, you know, to do better.”

I was immediately offended. I didn’t even think it through. Maybe it was the fact that he had just insulted me on a level that no one else could possibly do. I picked up my wine glass on the table and threw it on his face.

“How dare you!” I yelled at him. “I tried, okay? I fucking tried!” Was this what he wanted? The fight we never had? Was that why he came here? “I’m lucky she took me back! After I left to be with you, I turned my back on my family, everything, for you, and what did you do?”

He wiped the red wine from his face but didn’t say anything. He just remained quiet.

“I loved you so fucking much. I would have done anything for you!” I added, getting more upset as the years of me smothering our breakup was finally coming out. “But I was stupid because how could the famous Kobra Kincaid feel anything for me!”

His eyes were still on me.

“I now fuck men and get paid for it. But you want to know the truth, Kobra. I fuck men, hoping they fuck you from my system! And they are. I’m not yours anymore!” Was I screaming it because I wanted to believe it, or did I want him to believe it—I wasn’t even sure at this moment.

I inhaled sharply as he got up. I took two steps back from him because he looked murderous as he approached me. My back hit the wall, and his hand gripped my hip, pulling me sharply back to his chest. His hand went to my dress, and he forcefully pulled it down, and his eyes flashed to my heart before looking me back in the eyes.

“That’s my fucking name on your heart, not no players.” The veins up his neck bludged, and he dipped his head. “They fuck you, but I’ve got your heart, and you’ll always be mine, Opal.”

At that moment, I hated him. I hated his club. I hated his claim on me.

“I’ll get it covered,” I said as tears ran down my cheeks.

His lips twitched up. “Come on, baby girl. If you were getting it covered, you would have done it when I left you at the train station.”

That was when it hit me. So fucking hard. I was this way because of him. I was soulless because of him. I pushed him away from me, shoving him with all my strength, but he didn’t move.

“I hate you,” I said with venom.

“Nah, baby girl, you love me—and that’s a fucking problem.” His grip on my hip tightened. “Because I have always struggled to stay away from you. Now I don’t think it’s fucking possible.”

Everything he had done to me. Everything we went through. The tears. The pain. The insane need for his touch. I thought I was over him when, in fact, all I had done was lie to myself. Lie that I was in love with someone else. When the only reason I craved Ty’s touch was that I wanted Kobra’s.

He let go of me, and his eyes flashed to my tattoo one more time before he looked me back in the eyes.

“Tell yer mother that yer done. And if I so much as hear that you are working the books—I’ll murder the next bastard you’re with.”

Just like that, my expression dropped completely.

“You wanted me to admit to loving you years ago. I couldn’t. I couldn’t be the man you needed all those years ago—”

“And what? You’re the man I need now?” I cut him off. “What makes you think I would ever let you back in?” I tilted my head and stared at him. “I let Holly stay here for a few weeks because she’s a friend. That wasn’t me letting all the Kincaids back in my life.”

He looked at me with a merciless expression. Like it didn’t matter what I wanted, not any more—because he had made a decision, and I wasn’t sure if anyone could save me from the wrath that was Kobra and my addiction for each other. Because that was what it was, an addiction. I loved him then, and it drove me to insanity; trying to get comfort from others’ arms.

Only for me to realise now that the mask I wore, the secrets I kept, and the lifestyle I had been living was all due to the love I felt for Kobra Kincaid.

Kobra was the devil, but he took more than my soul—he had also taken my heart.