The Drazen World: Dominate (Kindle Worlds Novella) Read Online Free

ten.”
    I held up a black band of material. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
    “Cover your ass with it.” She spun me toward a redhead wielding a cosmetic brush. “Put more makeup on this one and frizz out her hair.”
    While the redhead was turning me into a puta , the Goth was shoving my tits into a spaghetti strap tank top.
    “Here.” Goth chick yanked my shirt down, then turned to a woman behind her. “Get me a new bra. These need a lift.”  
    I looked at my tits. What the hell? My girls didn’t need perking. They were perfectly natural and had just the right amount of drop for D cups.
    By the time they were finished with me, I wanted to cry. My cheeks looked like they’d been slapped, my lashes were clumped with black goo, and my tits were spilling out of my shirt like two fluffy coconuts.
    They teased my hair, making me look like an ’80s rock star. They squeezed my ass into a tight miniskirt, strapped my feet into four-inch heels, and shoved me out the door.
    I had only one line to memorize, a line I had to repeat in a thick Mexican accent while propositioning a cop for sex. Why I didn’t walk off the set, I had no idea. Maybe I was too stunned to leave, or maybe I was afraid the director would have me blackballed from Hollywood.
    All I knew was this was one of the most horrifying and humiliating experiences in my life, second only to the night Bud Boudreau had violently raped me in the back of his barn the night of my high school graduation.
    I couldn’t wait to get back to my temporary home. I wanted nothing more than to change out of these clothes, wash off this makeup, and crawl into bed, pretending this day had never happened. 

five
    A fter I slipped into a silky nighty, I sat beneath the covers, drowning my sorrows in a tub of double-chocolate brownie-swirl ice cream. I was startled by a knock on the front door, but decided to ignore it. Whoever it was could come back tomorrow or never. I didn’t care either way.
    The stupid fucking knocking persisted, the methodic repetition like a loud metronome, driving me loca . 
    Finally I pushed out of bed and stomped to the door. After glaring into a pair of bright blue eyes through the peephole, I threw it open, ready to chew out my neighbor. Imagine my surprise when I saw the bottle of champagne in one hand and a single rose tied to a balloon with the big, bold word Congratulations printed across it.
    Whatever bitchy comment I was about to make died before it could slip past my lips.
    Brad handed me the rose wrapped in paper with a sprig of baby’s breath. The balloon bobbed against the doorframe, a slight breeze from outside blowing my wet hair off my shoulders.
    I hugged the rose to my chest, leaned up on my tiptoes, and kissed Brad on the cheek. “Thank you.”
    When I pulled back, I was pleased to see the flush in his cheeks and the sparkle in his eyes as he looked at my skimpy nighty. So he liked what he saw? Good. If only I was in the mood to play around.
    “I came to see how your first day went.” He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
    Was my depression that obvious? Then I realized my eyes were probably still red from crying. My lower lip trembled. “I’m a Mexican prostitute.”
    His jaw dropped. “What?”
    I clenched my hands, doing my best to hold back my tears. “They gave the detective role to someone else.”
    His eyes softened, then saddened. “I’m sorry.”
    The guy was being too nice, making my heart go thumpity thump thump. If he hadn’t been such a clean-cut, all-American, apple pie kind of man, and if I’d been in a better mood, I’d so want to fuck him.
    I dabbed my eye before a tear could slip free. “What am I supposed to tell Mamá?”
    He clutched my shoulders, searching my eyes with an intensity I hadn’t seen before. “Ariana, we’ve all got to start somewhere. At least you have a foot in the door.” He grinned, shadows from the setting sun through tree branches dancing across his features. “Be the