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Chapter Twenty-Eight
The chair scraped across the concrete.
One of the men dragged it forward at her gesture, setting it directly in front of me like I was about to be interrogated instead of murdered.
“Bring it closer,” she said mildly.
He did.
She lowered herself into it with deliberate grace, smoothing her skirt beneath her thighs before crossing her legs. Black pencil skirt. Crimson silk blouse. Black stockings—silk, I was pretty sure—because she made certain I saw the tops of them when she crossed her legs in a slow and deliberate manner.
Control wasn’t just something she exercised. It was something she enjoyed.
She folded her hands in her lap and smiled at me like we were meeting over cocktails instead of blood.
“Zarek,” she said. “We have very important guests here tonight.”
The locker room smelled like sweat and metal and something chemical I couldn’t quite place. Disinfectant, maybe. On top of fear. And here she was talking about important guests. The dichotomy was rich.
“Not just wealthy,” she continued. “But select. Men and women who sit at the top of society. Old families. Quiet power. They all have one thing in common.”
Her smile sharpened.
“They enjoy a very particular kind of entertainment.”
My stomach turned.
“And I know this,” she went on like she was talking about the weather. I know because each of them has been personally vetted by me. And they have paid handsomely for the privilege of watching tonight’s event.”
It wasn’t just the guests who liked this.
She liked it.
“Maurice told me you were in need of money,” she said, tilting her head. “Something about adoption. IVF. Is that correct?”
The words hit like a body shot straight to the ribs.
I sucked in a breath despite myself.
How in the fuck did she know that?
“Zarek?” she prompted lightly. “Isn’t that right?”
I didn’t trust my voice. So, I nodded.
Her smile widened.
“Maurice mentioned a number you would walk away with if you won,” she said. “He was… mistaken.”
She leaned forward slightly.
“It will be triple that amount.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Think about it,” she purred. “With that kind of money, you could practically buy a baby.”
Something ugly rose in my chest.
