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He nods, seemingly satisfied enough with my response to let me go. I don’t rub at the pain in my jaw. I refuse to give him the satisfaction that he hurt me.
“And another thing, don’t get too comfortable with the Breakers being back. Like I said, they’re here doing business for me and don’t need any distractions.”
“Business that involves Stardom Academy?” I question, knowing I’m taking a risk by asking, but doing it anyway.
“Business that has fuck all to do with you. Stay out of it, Penelope. Understand?”
“Yes,” I mutter, waiting for permission to leave, because you can’t just get up and go where Jeb is concerned. No one does anything without his say so. Not unless you want to end up as fish food somewhere in the English Channel.
“Hmm…” His gaze roves over me again and I have to suffer the sting of his interest. My skin prickles and my stomach churns. I swallow down the bile burning my throat as an evil smile carves across his face. “Such a beautiful girl, even without all that makeup you have on tonight. No wonder the Breakers lost their heads over you,” he muses.
Balling my hands beneath the table, I bite down on all the things I wish I could say. I’ve never felt beautiful thanks to my mum and brother, so being called beautiful by a man I despise makes my skin go cold. My gaze flicks to the glass tumbler. I imagine smashing it against the table and using a shard of broken glass to slash his throat. Then I remember the gun and my itching fingers still.
Jeb’s dark eyes flash with amusement like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “That fire in your eyes is going to get you in serious trouble one of these days,” he muses, then picks up his mobile phone from the table when it pings with a message. Not looking up from his phone, he dismisses me. “You can go. Talk to your brother.”
Pausing at the entrance to the booth, I remember that I haven’t thanked him for the drinks he bought Clancy and I earlier, and even though it makes me sick to my stomach thanking him for anything, I do so anyway. “Thank you for the cocktails.”
He cocks his head to the side and smiles darkly. “You and I both know that I don’t buy anyone a drink unless I want something in return, and despite your beauty, you’re not really my style.”
“But who then…?” I mumble, smarting at the look he gives me.
“I don’t know nor care, you shouldn’t either if you know what’s good for you,” he says, lifting his eyes to meet mine. “Do you need reminding of what happens if you don’t follow the rules?
I swallow hard, understanding the threat well enough. “No. I don’t need reminding.”
“Good, and Penelope…”
“Yes?”
He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a wad of notes clipped together with a silver bar and chucks it across the table at me. There’s got to be at least a grand there. “Buy yourself a cocktail dress. Make sure it’s short and tight.”
“What for?” I murmur, my throat tightening as I pick up the money with trembling hands.
“Isn’t it obvious? I need you to look pretty. Be ready next Saturday night at eight and bring an overnight bag.” With that he dismisses me with a flick of his hand, just like the prostitute who was sucking his cock a few minutes ago.
