Amelia prided herself on being sharp, but even she had to admit she could be a fool at times. And this plan? It teetered between brilliance and complete stupidity. Whether it leaned more towards one or the other depended entirely on how the night played out.
She had been tracking Gawr Gura—the Queenpin of the sea—for months. The elusive criminal ruled over docks, ports, and anything connected to water. A dominion that vast made her almost untouchable. Almost.
Amelia had discovered one of Gura’s secret haunts—a club shrouded in mystery and frequented by those who thrived in the underworld. With each visit, she crafted a new identity, donned a new face, and played a new role, all in the hopes of understanding Gura’s patterns. It took weeks, but eventually, she had it down to a science. The Queenpin was nothing if not predictable in her unpredictability.
Once Amelia confirmed her observations were correct, she knew it was time to set the trap. And what better bait than temptation itself?
The plan was simple in theory: seduce the Queenpin, lower her guard, and strike. The perfect opportunity arose on Fridays, the night the club pulsed with energy—loud, chaotic, and filled with the perfect excuse for a stranger to slide into someone’s life unnoticed. Amelia had spent weeks carefully laying the groundwork, creating a character that would intrigue Gura. A woman who was bold, alluring, and unafraid to play with danger.
She took her time building an image, a pattern with her hot persona. Waving the bait every Friday night. It's a long work but she'll do it. No matter how long it takes.
As time passes, a random day in the office almost made her loose her perfect Friday visit, she almost didn't go. A rough day at work left her exhausted, and the thought of playing yet another role felt draining. But the thought of wasting all that effort gnawed at her, so she arrived late, expecting the usual routine.
But Gura wasn’t there.
Irritation pricked at Amelia. Had she miscalculated or today just wasn't her day at all? All of her hard work, and for what? She turned to the bartender, ordering her usual, drinking her problems away. She drank almost five glasses before calling it a night. But just as she was about to leave and pay, the man halted her with a casual, almost amused remark.
“No charge tonight, madam. Your tab’s been covered.”
Amelia frowned. “Since when?”
“Since Gawr Gura ordered it so. Earlier, before you arrived.”
The exhaustion and alcohol in her system evaporated in an instant. Her gaze flicked up, scanning the dark corners of the club until she spotted her.
Gura sat above, perched like a ruler surveying her domain, a glass in hand. Her expression was unreadable in the dim light, but her eyes gleamed—a predator watching its prey. When their gazes met, the Queenpin raised her drink in a silent toast. Amelia nodded in acknowledgment, lips quirking in the faintest smirk.
Then Gura turned and disappeared into the VIP lounge.
The bartender’s voice snapped her out of her trance. “She requested your presence, miss.”
Amelia’s pulse spiked. Finally. The bait had been taken, now she just had to reel it in. But excitement warred with caution. Gura wasn’t just some target. She was the Queenpin of the sea, a woman who didn’t play games unless she had already decided the outcome.
The detective shook off the hesitation, heading to the restroom to freshen up. A touch of rouge, a smudge of red across her lips—nothing too much, just enough to make her presence impossible to ignore.
If this plays out well and Amelia lived to tell the tale, perhaps she'll leave a red stained lipstick on the sharks skin to haunt her for the rest of the night. The thought intoxicates Amelia, perhaps that the gin was to blame.
A knock on the door interrupted her. When she opened it, her heart nearly jumped at the sight of the towering figure before her. Shark-like features, deadly sharp eyes—one of Gura’s men.
“The boss is waiting.”
Amelia swallowed and nodded, stepping out.
“The name’s Bloop,” the man said as he led her up the stairs. He glanced back at her hesitation. “You can drop the act. The boss will figure out who you really are soon enough.”
Amelia forced a chuckle, masking the unease curling in her gut. She had come too far to falter now. But as they passed doors with muffled moans and hushed whispers, the realization struck—this wasn’t just a meeting. Gura had invited her into her domain, her lair.
The possiblity of the night ending with a one night stand heats up her entire being. But considering from where she's standing, she'd rather sleep with the Queenpin than die on her hands.
The guards at the final door barely spared her a glance before stepping aside. Amelia sweats at how heavily armored they are, Bloop knocked, then cracked the door open. “Boss, she’s here.”
A voice, smooth and rich, beckoned from within. “Let her in.”
Bloop smirked as he turned to Amelia. “Relax. Boss doesn’t bite.”
“Much,” he added before shutting the door behind her.
Amelia was trapped.
The VIP lounge was draped in the essence of power and seduction. Navy-blue walls wrapped the room in an intimate darkness, broken only by the soft glow of silver accents. Plush velvet couches and sleek black marble tables spoke of wealth, while the scent of aged whiskey and expensive perfume hung in the air like a whispered promise.
And at the center of it all—Gura, her back turned, sleeves rolled up as she adjusted the cuff of one wrist. In her other hand, a gun, cradled like an afterthought.
Amelia’s breath hitched. This close, the Queenpin was even more dangerous. And intoxicating.
Bloop’s words rang in her mind. Relax.
She took a step forward, forcing confidence into her stride. Before she could speak, Gura turned, slow and deliberate, a smile curving her lips—laced with something both inviting and lethal.
“Good evening, milady,” Gura purred, eyes heavy-lidded, predatory.
Amelia’s brain short-circuited.
Oh no. She’s hot.