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“Miri,” he said with a dip of his chin.
I glanced toward the front door, then back to the intimidating man towering over me and dropped my eyes to avoid Boss’s hard blue stare. “What’s going on?”
“Doll, I’m up here,” Boss said, his tone lighter than usual. Oh, so we’re back to the friendly Texan, are we? Curious, I met his gaze and found him smirking. “I don’t usually entertain here at the house, but a business associate visiting from out of town insisted. I’m hosting a formal dinner tonight.” He didn’t sound too happy about the get-together, but maintained what looked like a painful, forced smile.
“Oh, okay.” I bit my lip and threaded a finger into my hair, twisting it around a long tendril. “I’ll make sure to stay in my room.”
Boss’s face split into a genuine grin and he spoke in a drawl so sexy my insides clenched. “No, doll, you misunderstood me. I want you with me, by my side.”
The blood drained from my face. “What? No!” Boss’s smile fell and I saw a flash of anger in those deep blues. “I-I mean… I’m not good enough to sit with you. I’m just a…” My words trailed off as I saw his face harden. There would be no challenging this man. Boss got what Boss wanted. He probably hadn’t heard the word “no” in years.
All pretenses dropped. “You will be there and you will be polite and charming.” His voice sliced the air like a guillotine and I swallowed the urge to flee. “I have neither asked nor demanded a single thing from you since your unexpected arrival. You will be dressed and ready at six sharp.”
Boss’s displeasure at my refusal was obvious. With one final, hostile glare, he was satisfied his word was law and turned to leave.
“I’ll be ready, but…” I nearly choked with fear when Boss spun to face me once more, the fury in his eyes and annoyance in his body language indicated he was more than ready for a throw down. Shrinking back, I stammered, “I-I have nothing to wear.”
Boss’s expression relaxed a fraction, but his stance remained hostile and defensive. The line of his jaw was harsh, sharp enough to slice me open and scatter my courage all over the fancy floor. “A cocktail dress has been placed in your closet, along with shoes. You should find them acceptable.” Boss retreated, walking backwards to keep that cold stare fixed on me. “Six, Miri. Don’t disappoint me.”
When he finally spun around and left, I exhaled, gasping with relief. It took a few moments to tamp down the unholy fear that twisted my stomach in hollow knots. That was easily the most terrifying interaction I’d had with Boss since I mouthed off after our shower that first night. One thing was certain, Boss did not like to be challenged or told no. Asshole.
I retreated to the library and checked the clock. Noon. Six long hours to freak out while waiting to be presented as some sort of pity case to Boss’s business associates, whatever the hell that meant. Was he going to show me off as some kind of experiment? Look how I cleaned up this junkie whore. Or was I being dressed up for more sordid reasons? Entertainment, perhaps?
I dashed away the hot tears with a trembling hand, angry with myself for getting upset. I would do whatever it took to survive. Boss wasn’t telling me to fuck everyone in front of an audience. Yet. All he wanted was for me to join him at a dinner. I could do this. I’d done much, much worse for so much less.
6
Miri
Dinner was a thousand times worse than I’d imagined. Boss’s guests, while outwardly well groomed and dressed in expensive suits were, beneath the surface, some of the creepiest men I had ever met, and that said a lot. Throughout the meal, I would look up from my plate only to find one or more of them leering at me as if I were a selection on the menu. A single dinner made me feel more like a whore than any other time in my life, including when I was actually acting like a whore by trading sex for drugs.
“You know, there are rumors that El Cuchillo is looking to take over your territory, Boss,” the heavyset man who seemed to be in charge of the visitors said casually with a heavy Mexican accent. He used a napkin to wipe his mouth and took a long drink from his wineglass.
Boss waved a hand dismissively. “Tell me something I don’t know. He was after my predecessor for years even before I took over. I have no doubt Cuchillo is after me. He wants Austin. That’s not a secret.” I turned to glance at Boss sitting next to me. He was dressed in his own designer suit, looking more like a fashion model than a drug czar. Boss leaned back in his chair as casually as if he was discussing the weather. “Naturally, he won’t succeed.” The hair on my arms stood on end when his vibrant blue eyes narrowed and darkened to harsh slits in his handsome face. “Let him try. He’ll see what happens to those who cross me.”
After a long, painful silence, the other man burst out laughing, a creepy, dark chuckle that iced my veins.
“Good for you, Boss. Good for you.”
Boss pushed back his chair, stood, pulling out mine as if he were a gentleman and this was a five-star restaurant. Not a drug lord’s compound and a meeting with disgusting members of a Mexican cartel. “No more business for now,” he said, extending a hand to help me to my feet. “It’s time to relax.” With my elbow firmly, almost painfully, clasped in his hand, Boss led the group into a large, formal room where a bartender was waiting to serve drinks. Once everyone was comfortable and chatting amongst themselves, gulping down Boss’s expensive liquor, he tugged me down to sit next to him on a small love seat.
One of Boss’s men appeared in the doorway and the two exchanged a look. My jaw nearly hit the floor when Boss nodded and women began filing into the room. And not just women. The scantily clad kind, with fake tits, bright red lipstick, and four-inch, clear stripper heels. They were prostitutes. Lots of them.
The guests cheered, all of them halfway to shitfaced and eager to start partying. All that was missing were the lines of coke on the coffee table along with various other drugs, and this would be a scene I’d experienced many times in the six months I spent with Mason.
Boss must have felt me tense up because his large hand landed on my thigh and his fingers pressed into the soft flesh—a silent warning not to move or make a scene. I shot him the dirtiest look I could manage, which he returned with an impassive stare.
Jackass!
I tried to wiggle my leg out of his grasp, but Boss’s fingers only dug in deeper. He squeezed so hard I bit my lip to stifle a cry. Resigned to sitting quietly at his side, I tried not to watch while the disgusting spectacle in front of me played out. One by one, the hookers fanned out across the room, each finding a man to entertain. Nausea burned my esophagus, my dinner attempting to resurface, as subtle bumping and grinding quickly turned into live, full out, graphic porn. Another glimpse at Boss and I could see he still had that damn unaffected mask in place, not giving away a hint of what he was feeling or thinking. I couldn’t even tell where he was looking. His eyes were unfocused, as if he didn’t want to watch the scene any more than I did.
When the first of the women, now nearly naked, slithered to the floor between one of the men’s legs and began to suck his dick, I’d had enough. I pushed up off the couch to leave, but Boss was faster. He grabbed my wrist, wrapped his other hand around my waist, and yanked me to straddle his lap, facing him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I growled in his ear. “I don’t want to watch this.”
Boss held me in place, the hand on my wrist moving to the back of my head, roughly pinning my chest against his, and cheeks pressed to one another in opposite directions. The scratch of his stubble sent electricity skittering down my spine to gather where our groins were rubbing together, and damn if his scent didn’t make my eyelids heavy.
“Don’t even think about disrespecting me in front of my guests. You are my property, Miri. Tonight, you will act like it.” His low growl frightened me as much as it angered me, while the intimacy of our bodies made my heart pound.
