The Disguised Girl: Captivating The Billionaire King

The sharp blades of the scissors bit into the thick black hair.

Dasia stood in front of the cracked bathroom mirror in the rundown Queens apartment. She didn't blink. The metal snipped again, and a heavy lock of hair that used to reach her waist hit the stained floor tiles with a soft thud. It was a brutal, uneven hack job. She picked up a razor from the edge of the sink and ruthlessly dragged it through the jagged ends, texturizing the choppy mess into a rough, wild style that screamed rebellion.

Her jawline, usually softened by the dark waves, now looked sharp and unforgiving under the flickering fluorescent light.

She dropped the scissors into the sink. Her fingers grabbed the roll of medical bandages.

She wrapped the coarse fabric around her chest. She pulled it tight. Too tight. Her ribs screamed in protest, and her lungs struggled to expand against the crushing pressure. She ignored the burning in her chest and pinned the bandage in place.

She pulled a massive black hoodie over her head. She yanked the hood up, casting a dark shadow over the upper half of her face. The girl in the mirror was gone.

A violent pounding rattled the thin wooden door of the apartment.

"Gerald! Get your ass out here!" Felix Adler's voice bled through the cheap wood, thick with panic and irritation. "We are going to miss the train to Penn Station!"

Dasia grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. The hinges shrieked.

Felix stood in the hallway, his fist raised for another knock. He took one look at her and stumbled backward. His eyes widened, scanning her flat chest, the brutal haircut, and the dead, cold look in her eyes.

He sucked in a sharp breath. The air hissed through his teeth.

"What the hell did you do to yourself?" Felix demanded. His shock quickly morphed into a sneer. "Listen to me. You think changing your look is going to make people forget? You're still the trash who ruined his team."

Dasia's expression didn't shift. Her heart beat a slow, steady rhythm against the tight bandages.

She didn't waste a single word on the low-level assistant. She grabbed the worn canvas bag holding her custom keyboard, slung it over her shoulder, and walked forward.

Her shoulder slammed directly into Felix's chest.

Felix gasped, clutching his collarbone as she shoved past him without breaking her stride. He stared at her back for a second before scrambling down the narrow stairs after her, cursing under his breath.

The cab ride to Manhattan was suffocating.

Dasia sat in the back seat. She pulled a black surgical mask over her mouth and nose. She leaned her head against the cold glass of the window and closed her eyes. The heater blew dry air against her face, but her fingers inside the hoodie pockets were ice cold.

The taxi slammed on its brakes outside Penn Station.

Dasia pushed the door open before the car fully stopped. The biting November wind whipped against her jeans. She shoved her hands deeper into her pockets and walked toward the entrance.

Felix paid the driver and jogged to catch up. He kept looking over his shoulder, his eyes darting around the crowd. He was sweating despite the cold, terrified that a reporter would spot the disgraced e-sports player he was forced to babysit.

They stepped into the massive, echoing main hall of Penn Station.

A giant digital billboard hung from the ceiling. It was playing a loop of a cologne commercial. The face on the screen belonged to Carlton Gordon. The captain of Blackflame. King.

Felix noticed where she was looking. He let out a harsh laugh.

"Don't even think about it," Felix spat. "Don't try to pull a stunt and bump into him for clout. He would crush you."

Dasia turned her head slowly. She locked eyes with Felix. The absolute, freezing contempt in her dark eyes made Felix's stomach drop. The rest of his insult died in his throat.

A sudden, deafening scream erupted from the left.

A mob of middle school girls holding neon signs rushed forward. The wave of bodies slammed into Dasia and Felix, tearing them apart.

Dasia gritted her teeth. The crowd shoved her forward. She curled her arms inward, protecting the keyboard bag against her ribs.

A girl behind her shoved hard against her spine to get a better view.

Dasia's boots hit a patch of freshly mopped tile. The rubber squeaked. Her center of gravity vanished.

She pitched forward, falling straight toward a small clearing cordoned off by massive men in black suits.

Instinct took over. She threw her hand out to catch herself. Her fingers clamped down hard on thick, expensive fabric.

The sharp, freezing scent of cedar and mint flooded her senses, cutting through the smell of sweat and train exhaust.

Her forehead crashed into a wall of solid muscle. The impact sent a dull ache through her skull.

The body beneath her hands went completely rigid. A wave of pure, suffocating hostility rolled off the man she had just hit.

Dasia pushed off the hard chest and snapped her head up.

She found herself staring into a pair of deep, ocean-blue eyes. They were filled with absolute, unfiltered disgust.

Carlton Gordon looked down at the boy in the cheap hoodie. His eyebrows pulled together in a tight, furious line.

Felix broke through the crowd just in time to see Dasia's hand on Carlton's custom trench coat. Felix's knees buckled.

Carlton lifted his long fingers. He flicked the spot on his lapel where Dasia had touched him, as if brushing off a cockroach.

He let out a low, mocking scoff that vibrated in the quiet space between them.

The fans behind the security line shrieked in outrage, screaming at the boy in the hoodie for touching their idol.

Dasia didn't flinch. Her heart rate didn't spike.

She looked down at her own sleeve and calmly brushed off invisible dust. Then she tilted her head up.

Above the black mask, her dark eyes met Carlton's. She looked at him the way a person looks at a piece of garbage rotting on the sidewalk.

The silent challenge in Dasia's eyes made Carlton freeze. The muscles in his jaw tightened.

Before he could speak, his personal assistant, Alex Vance, shoved past the bodyguards. Alex threw his arms out, shielding Carlton like Dasia was holding a loaded gun.

"Are you out of your mind?" Alex barked, pointing a manicured finger at Dasia's face. "You do not touch him. I will have you sued for harassment so fast your head will spin."

Felix scrambled forward, his face pale and slick with sweat. He grabbed Dasia's wrist with trembling fingers.

"Apologize!" Felix hissed, his voice cracking. "Get on your knees and apologize right now before you ruin us both!"

Dasia's stomach twisted with revulsion at the physical contact. She ripped her arm out of Felix's grip. The violent motion sent Felix stumbling backward.

She turned her gaze to Alex.

"Get lost," Dasia said.

Her voice was low, raspy, and completely devoid of emotion. The single word sliced through the noise of the station.

The fans went feral. A neon green glow stick flew over the security line and slammed into Dasia's shoulder blade. It bounced off with a dull thud.

Dasia didn't blink. She didn't even rub her shoulder.

Carlton watched her. His blue eyes narrowed. The boy's spine was perfectly straight. There was no trembling, no frantic apologies. Just a cold, dead stare.

Alex's face turned purple. He waved frantically at the station security guards standing nearby.

"Get this psycho out of here!" Alex yelled.

Three massive security guards pushed through the crowd. They unclipped their radios, forming a tight circle around Dasia and Felix.

Felix dropped to a crouch, burying his face in his hands. He was hyperventilating.

One of the guards reached out a thick hand to grab Dasia's shoulder.

Dasia's eyes went pitch black. Her left foot slid back half an inch against the tile. Her weight shifted. Her muscles coiled tight, preparing to snap the guard's wrist the second he made contact.

"Stop."

The word was spoken quietly, but it carried absolute authority.

Carlton raised one hand. His long index finger twitched in the air.

Alex immediately grabbed the security guard's arm, pulling him back. The guards stepped away, waiting for the billionaire captain's orders.

Carlton took a slow step forward. His leather shoes clicked sharply against the tile. He stopped less than two feet from Dasia.

The sheer physical presence of the man was overwhelming. Dasia had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. The scent of mint and cedar grew stronger, suffocating her.

Carlton leaned down slightly. He studied the dark, violent eyes glaring back at him over the black mask.

"Whoever paid you to put on this little show," Carlton said, his voice a low, mocking rumble, "tell them your acting is pathetic."

A tiny, humorless laugh escaped Dasia's throat.

She raised her right hand. She pressed her index finger directly against the center of Carlton's chest, right on the expensive fabric of his coat.

She shoved. Hard.

Carlton hadn't expected the strike. His body rocked backward on his heels. A flash of pure shock widened his eyes.

"Keep your dogs on a leash," Dasia said. Her voice was like crushed ice. "Before they bite the wrong person."

The entire station went dead silent. Alex stopped breathing.

Carlton looked down at his chest, then back up at Dasia. A dark, dangerous smile slowly curved his lips.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vintage silver Zippo lighter. His thumb flicked the lid open. Clink. He snapped it shut. Clink.

The metallic sound was sharp and rhythmic.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the station intercom crackled to life. A loud voice announced the final boarding call for the express train to Boston.

Alex checked his watch, panic replacing his anger. "King, we have to go. Now. Don't waste time on this trash."

Carlton's thumb rested on the lighter. He stared at Dasia for three long seconds, burning her eyes into his memory.

He turned around without another word. The bodyguards formed a wedge, and the Blackflame team disappeared down the VIP corridor.

The crowd slowly dispersed, muttering insults. Felix collapsed onto a wooden bench, gasping for air like a dying fish.

Dasia adjusted the collar of her hoodie. She looked down at the floor.

A glossy poster of Carlton Gordon lay on the dirty tiles, dropped by a fleeing fan. Dasia stared at his arrogant, printed face.

Dasia looked at the poster by her boots. The corner of her mouth twitched under the mask.

She bent down. Her long fingers pinched the edge of the glossy paper. She lifted it off the filthy floor.

Fifty feet away, Alex glanced over his shoulder. He saw Dasia holding the poster. A smug, victorious sneer stretched across his face.

"Look at that," Alex said loudly, making sure Carlton heard him. "I told you he was just a psycho fan. Acting tough, and now he's picking up your trash like a good little dog."

Carlton stopped walking. He turned his head slightly. His blue eyes locked onto Dasia through the thinning crowd.

Felix groaned from the bench. "Are you crazy? Drop that!"

Dasia didn't look at Felix. She didn't look at Carlton.

Her hands moved in a blur. She crushed the thick, expensive poster into a tight, jagged ball. The sound of tearing paper echoed sharply.

She raised her arm. With a flick of her wrist, she launched the paper ball through the air.

It sailed over the heads of two passing commuters and dropped perfectly into the center of a hazardous waste bin three meters away.

"Trash belongs in the trash," Dasia said. Her tone was flat, stating a simple fact.

Alex's face flushed a violent, angry red. He looked like he had been slapped across the face.

Carlton's grip on his silver lighter tightened until his knuckles turned white. The disgust in his eyes ignited into a predatory, burning anger.

Dasia shoved her hands back into her pockets. She turned her back on the King of e-sports and walked toward the exit doors.

Felix shrieked, scrambling off the bench and sprinting after her.

The taxi ride to the Upper East Side was a nightmare.

Felix screamed until his voice gave out. He slammed his hands against the back of the driver's seat, accusing Dasia of destroying her brother's life and his own career. "And why the hell are we going to this preppy high school? !" Felix shrieked. "You are a disgraced pro now! You should be hiding!" Dasia kept her eyes on the window. She had made a promise to Gerald. She would finish his senior year and secure the diploma he had worked so hard for, maintaining his cover no matter how much she loathed the place.

Dasia pulled a pair of cheap wired earphones from her pocket. She shoved them into her ears and cranked the volume on her phone to the maximum.

Heavy metal guitars screamed against her eardrums. She closed her eyes.

The image of her twin brother, Gerald, flashed behind her eyelids. She saw his hands covered in blood, his face pale as his team threw him out into the rain.

Her hands, hidden inside her sleeves, curled into tight fists. Her fingernails dug into her palms until the skin broke. The sharp pain grounded her, keeping the violent rage from boiling over.

Thirty minutes later, the taxi jerked to a stop outside a massive wrought-iron gate.

Dasia ripped the earphones out. She pushed the door open. The bright afternoon sun made her squint.

Felix rolled down the window. "Listen to me! This prep school is full of rich kids. Keep your head down. Do not cause trouble!"

Dasia slammed the door shut in his face. She adjusted the strap of her keyboard bag and walked onto the campus.

The hallways of the prep school were crowded. The moment Dasia stepped inside, the chatter died down.

Students stared at the dark, brooding boy in the oversized hoodie. A group of bullies who used to shove Gerald into lockers froze, intimidated by the cold, murderous aura radiating from her. They stepped aside, clearing a path.

Dasia found Gerald's locker. She spun the combination dial from memory. Click. The metal door swung open.

"Holy crap! Gerald? Is that you, bro?"

A loud, obnoxious voice echoed behind her.

Dasia turned her head. A boy with bleached blonde hair stood there, his jaw hanging open. Cody Brogan. Gerald's only friend in this hellhole.

Cody circled her, his eyes wide. He reached out to touch her chopped hair.

Dasia shot him a look so cold his hand snapped back to his side.

"Did you go dark after getting kicked off the team?" Cody whispered, vibrating with excitement. "Because it looks badass. Good timing, too. We have a massive fight in the parking lot after school."

Dasia shoved a textbook into the locker and slammed the door shut. The metal banged loudly.

She looked at Cody. A dark, bloodthirsty smile curved her lips.

"A fight?" Dasia said softly. "Perfect."