Playing His Game

Chapter One

The bass from the speakers thumped through the walls as Aaliyah pushed open the heavy black door to V Lounge. 

The “hoe house” as the streets called it—half strip club, half trap where the real money got made in the back rooms. 

She clutched the fake resumé in her manicured hands, heart slamming against her ribs like it wanted out. 

Soft, sweet, innocent. That’s what they told her to be. The perfect bait.

She was sent here to ruin him. Infiltrate. Become his bottom bitch. 

Make King Von fall so hard he’d hand her the keys to his whole empire.

Then watch it burn from the inside. 

But right now? She was just a girl from the other side of the city, looking for a job. Or at least that’s the lie she had to sell.

The place smelled like weed, expensive cologne, and desperation. Girls in thongs and heels twerked on the poles like it was nothing. 

A couple of Von’s goons eyed her from the bar, smirking. But the second she stepped into the VIP section, the air changed.

He was there.

King Von, Dayvon Bennett in the flesh.

He lounged on the black leather couch like he owned the whole damn world. 

Dreads twisted perfect, fresh lineup, that gray Burberry cap pulled low. 

White tee hugging his tatted chest, heavy chains dripping. 

The same man from the pictures. 

Mean as fuck. And fine enough to make a good girl question everything.

He looked up slow, dark eyes locking on her like a predator spotting a bunny in the grass. A smirk tugged at his lips.

“Yo, who the fuck is this?” His voice was low, Chicago grit thick, that calm but deadly tone that made niggas switch up quick. “You lost, lil’ mama? This ain’t the mall.”

Aaliyah swallowed hard, eyes dropping to the floor just enough. Soft. Scared. Exactly what turned him on. “I—I’m here for the dancer position? I saw the sign outside. I really need the job, sir.”

Von leaned forward, elbows on his knees, gold grill flashing when he smiled. Not a nice smile. A dangerous one. “Sir? Damn, you polite as hell. Come here. Let me see you.”

She walked over on shaky legs, the black dress she wore hugging her curves but still looking innocent compared to the rest of the girls. 

He stood up slow, towering over her, the scent of his cologne wrapping around her like smoke. 

He circled her once, eyes dragging down her body like he was already imagining breaking her.

“You soft, huh?” he said, voice dropping lower. “Look at you. Big pretty eyes, trembling for me. You ever danced for niggas before, Aaliyah?” He read her name off the paper without her saying it. Of course he did.

“N-no, not really.” she whispered, voice sweet as honey. “But I’m a fast learner. I just… I need money. My grandma’s sick and—”

“Shut the fuck up.” His hand shot out, grabbing her chin hard, forcing her to look up at him. Not enough to bruise… yet. But the grip was possessive. Controlling. “I ain’t ask for your sob ass story.”

Her breath hitched. Real fear flashed in her eyes, because this nigga was crazy, and everybody knew it. Violent. Unpredictable. The type to put a bitch in the hospital for looking at him wrong.

Von’s eyes darkened with lust. Fear turned him on. And she was giving him the perfect amount. Weak. Breakable. His favorite kind.

“Yeah… you scared.” he murmured, thumb brushing her bottom lip. 

“Good. That shit get my dick hard. You probably gon’ be my new favorite. But listen up, lil’ hoe.” She cringed at the word.

He stepped closer, chest almost touching hers, voice dropping to that deadly whisper he used right before shit got ugly.

“When you work for me… you don’t dance for nobody else unless I say it. You don’t talk to nobody else unless I say it. You don’t even think about another nigga breathing the same air as you unless I tell you to. You understand me?”

Aaliyah nodded fast, eyes watering just a little. “Y-yes, Von.”

He chuckled low, dark. “Nah. You call me Daddy when we alone. Boss when the girls around. And if you ever fuck up…” His grip tightened on her chin, just enough to make her whimper. “I’ll have you on that pole with a black eye and a smile, you hear me? I don’t play about my shit. This my house. These my hoes. And now you mine too.”

He let her go, stepping back to look her up and down again like she was already his property. The sadistic glint in his eyes said he was already planning how he was gonna break her in…slow, mean, and possessive as hell.

But what he didn’t know… what nobody knew… was that the sweet, scared girl standing in front of him had a wire in her bra and a mission in her heart.

She was gonna make King Von fall in love.

She was gonna become his everything.

And then she was gonna watch him lose it all.

Aaliyah lowered her eyes, playing the part perfectly.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Von smirked, already hooked.

“Welcome to the family, baby. Now go get changed. You dancing tonight. And if you make me proud…” He licked his lips, eyes promising pain and pleasure. “I might let you ride this dick later. But only if you cry real pretty for me.”

She turned to walk away, heart racing for reasons she didn’t want to admit.

This was gonna be harder than she thought.