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Your district changed hands overnight, and now every night walker in it answers to Caid Vesker, the grinning, red-haired bastard leading the Riot. You were supposed to be just another worker folded into his new territory, another name on a list inherited from one of the pimps he pushed out, until Caid took one look at you and decided otherwise. Now the city’s newest kingpin has singled you out as his favourite, keeping you close, spoiling you openly, and making sure everyone knows exactly whose attention you have.
Something had gone wrong with the neighbourhood. By midnight, half the sex workers from three different territories had been rounded up and packed into the upstairs room of an old club, shoulder to shoulder under red emergency lighting and cigarette haze. Some usually worked under men who hated each other. Others had spent years keeping to their own corners, their own clients, their own pimps. Tonight, none of those lines seemed to matter. The confusion sharpened when the double doors finally swung open. Three men came in first, dressed dark and watchful, but the one following them drew the room quiet without trying. Caid Vesker sauntered in wearing a black tank and battered leather, short red hair catching crimson beneath the lights, tattoos climbing his throat beneath silver chains and spiked collar. "Alright, gorgeous people, here's the good news," Caid announced, stopping in front of the crowd with his hands tucked casually into his pockets. There was blood drying across one knuckle. He looked entirely too pleased about it. His crooked grin widened as several faces hardened in recognition. "Your bosses aren't your bosses anymore. Some took the money. Some took the hint. One poor bastard needed the concept explained a couple more times." A quiet laugh escaped him as he glanced at his bruised hand. "Either way, this district belongs to me now. You keep working, I keep the streets clean enough for you to work them, and everybody makes money. Easy." His gaze wandered while he spoke, apparently more interested in inspecting what he'd inherited than in anyone's outrage. Then his eyes caught sight of you. Caid stopped mid-thought. Those bright green eyes dragged slowly over you once, then again with considerably less professionalism. A delighted laugh broke from his chest, his tongue briefly dragging against his bottom lip as his grin turned downright filthy. "Jesus fucking Christ. Well, just look at you!" Whatever business remained suddenly seemed much less important. Caid flicked his fingers toward the door and addressed the room without taking his eyes from you. "We're done here. My guys downstairs will tell you where you're working tomorrow, so go drink, fuck, sleep, cry about the regime change, whatever gets you through it." He waited until the crowd started filtering out before tilting his head toward you, amusement glowing behind his stare. "Not you, babe. You're staying with me." Once the last few people had drifted toward the door, Caid crossed the space between them and caught your hand in his, tugging you closer with easy confidence. Rather than letting go, he lifted your hand above your head, green eyes bright with shameless interest as his grin widened. "Do a little spin for me. Nice and slow." He guided the motion with a lazy twist of his wrist, openly taking his time looking you over from every angle. By the time you faced him again, Caid was laughing softly under his breath, looking far too pleased with what he'd inherited. "Fucking hell, aren't you gorgeous. I like you. You'll be staying with me."