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It seemed like forever that we stayed like that: him watching me, his focus calculating, intimidating.
“You think I’d be interested in doing anything for you?”
I couldn’t deny that I was terrified for even asking this dangerous man for help. It was stupid, given the fact I was in this problem for this exact situation. “I hope you can.” I swallowed. “I mean, you’ve been watching me. You had me come here, into your office—”
He made this deep sound in his throat, cutting me off, making me even tenser, more frightened.
“What makes you think I can help you, that I would help you?” His face remained a stoic mask, a stone statue. “Maybe I want you here, watch you, called you into my office because I want to defile you.” The way he spoke, his voice, was like ice, so emotionless, so hard and unforgiving. I had no doubt he meant that.
I was on the verge of crying.
He eyed me for a long second. “You screamed of desperation, and honestly I’m a vulture wanting to feed off that.”
My entire body went rigid, frozen to the core.
“Because that would be a lie, a bold-faced fucking lie.”
His voice was so deep, so heavy, that I felt it weighing down on me, sucking me under like a current, making me hold on for dear life. I opened my mouth but closed it promptly. I didn’t know what to say, how to answer. I felt like I’d fallen down a rabbit hole. But this was no dream. This was reality. It was my reality.
“Tell me why I should do anything for you that doesn’t benefit me completely.”
“I don’t know,” I said. It was the only thing I could come up with in that moment. This man didn’t even have to say anything for me to be afraid of him.
His expression was stoic, his face a hard mask of indifference.
This was a mistake, a terrible, horrible mistake.
Although the truth was I’d known that deep down inside. The truth was I already had enough mistakes under my belt. What was one more?
“I can give you whatever you want, whatever you need.”
He made this sound in the back of his throat after I spoke, and I didn’t know what to make of it.
“You can give me whatever I want?” There was this hard edge to his voice as he looked at me. “And what exactly is it you think I want?” He moved his gaze up and down my body. I felt like he was undressing me right then, like he’d reached out and torn the clothes from me as if they were tissue paper. I clenched my hands into tight fists at my sides, but even that couldn’t help the shaking that consumed me.
“I don’t know,” I said again, feeling stupid. Show strength. “I don’t know anyone else that can handle my problem, that can get this asshole off my back.” I took a step closer, but a blast of frigid air that seemed to come from Cameron stopped me. “He’ll do unspeakable things to me.” God, I sounded pathetic. “I can offer you…me.”
Then maybe you should have been smarter. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to a motherfucker who uses people like toilet paper.
If Cameron cared, I could imagine he’d have said something like that. Hell, I’d said that to myself many times over. I hadn’t told him what my problem was in detail, didn’t know what this payment would entail, even if he did agree to help me. But I’d do anything. “I owe a very bad man money, even though I never spent a dime of it. I know they are following me.” I ran my hands over my thighs, a nervous habit I’d always had. “I know they’ll hurt me before I can do anything about it, make my life right…” Or as right, as normal as it could be for me. I shivered at the thought of what they could do to me.
“And you think I am the type of man that can come to an agreement with you, that I’d give a fuck what happened to you?” His voice was shrewd, his gaze glacial. “I don’t think you realize the type of man you’re standing in front of.” There was almost this touch of amusement in his voice. Almost.
A criminal?
A drug lord?
A killer?
He’s probably that and more. So much more.
“Tell me what type of man you are,” I whispered, not thinking he’d actually be honest. I thought the corner of his lips quirked up, but it was gone before I could really see if it was there.
“What type of man do you think I am? What type of man would you need to help you get out of your situation?”
Could he hear my heart? It was beating painfully hard. “I think you’re worse than them in a metal capacity, in the way you can outsmart anyone and anything.” I took a steadying breath. “I think you’re the type of man, the only type of man, who can help me.” He didn’t speak, but his gaze was unwavering. “And I hope you’ll help me because you want that bleakness I have in me, that emptiness.” That awarded me with a flicker of emotion over his face, but it was gone as soon as I saw it. “You want it because it matches yours.”
He stayed silent. That was the worst of all.
“Please,” I said, all but begging now, desperate. I’d already opened my mouth and asked him for help. There was no going back now. If he wouldn’t help me, I’d be up shit creek without a paddle.
I’m already in that situation.
Hell, I’d rather be dead than think of what those assholes would do to me. Cameron certainly seemed far worse, far scarier, than what I was currently dealing with, and he’d only said a handful of words to me, only stared at me, maybe gauging how “worth it” I was.
He chuckled then, but it wasn’t humorous, wasn’t filled with amusement. It was the laugh of a depraved man…of the very devil himself, perhaps.
“I’ve always liked the sound of begging.”
I bet he did.
I looked around his office. Aside from the television monitors behind him that showcased the entire club, and his desk and chair, there wasn’t anything else in the room. It was like a coffin, a large, cold and frightening coffin. It was a place for someone to rot in the ground, away from anything and everything.
It was dark, like his soul, no doubt.
I didn’t have anything of real value to offer—that was my problem, and how I’d gotten into this shit storm to begin with. But a man wanted one thing, and it was something I had, something I could give him in exchange for his help. Whether he’d accept it or not, deem it worthy of his time, was left to be determined.
Before I could say anything, Cameron started drumming his fingers on the desk, his focus trained on me, as if I was intruding on his time, despite the fact that he’d invited me here. I shifted on my feet, feeling very vulnerable in this moment. I could see his mind working, and whatever he was thinking about couldn’t be good.
I took a step closer and saw something dark come into his eyes. I wasn’t wearing anything sexy, but I didn’t need to show off skin to get a guy’s attention. The way he skimmed my body with his gaze told me all I needed to know.
Yeah, all men wanted something, one thing, but I was pretty sure I had something a man like Cameron could appreciate…nothing to lose.
“Tell me your name.”
“Sofia Mikellson,” I supplied, my voice wavering despite my desperate internal struggle to stay calm.
“Sofia.” The way he said my name, the way it rolled off his tongue shouldn’t have made me tingle, shouldn’t have made my body tighten. He said it with this thick darkness in his voice that should have scared the shit out of me.
It did.
“Isn’t asking for help the reason you’re in this situation?”
It was like he’d read my mind, his words a hot poker right through me.
“Yes,” I whispered, not bothering to lie.
Or maybe I was trying to jump out of the frying pan, the heat turned up so that I’d burn until there was nothing left.
I could be a slave to his desires, a submissive to his dominance. I could be his personal victim. If it meant that I stayed alive in the end, so be it. I could be whoever, whatever he wanted.
It seemed like an eternity before he finally moved, before he finally spoke.
He
leaned forward, his forearms on the table, his expression suddenly intense. “You need my help, and the payment I want in return is your body…used in any way I see fit, for the duration of two weeks.” And then he smirked. It was dark and dangerous, and shouldn’t have made me feel anything other than self-loathing. “You’ll be mine, Sofia. Any. Way. I. See. Fit.”
I breathed in harshly. “Yes. Okay.”
And so it was. I’d just sold myself to the devil.
