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I huff. “Yeah, well they’re not the type of clients we attract.” I smirk at no one in particular. “Or perhaps, it’s different body parts they want to see pierced.”
“Do they speak English?” Mason asks, looking worried.
“Do you care if they speak English? They’re not being paid to speak, are they?”
In fact, most of the women that work in The Whisperspeak only a little English since they mostly come from Eastern Europe or Latin America. In the short period that I’ve had the pleasure of discovering this world so filled with glory and dirt, it never ceases to amaze me how naive some of these women are. Young bitches like the trio in front of me remain a mystery. Isn’t the word “danger” or “badass” written all over the foreheads of the men that encourage them to come to the US to make a better living for themselves? And if they failed to pick up on these obvious signs, how responsible arewefor their misfortune? After all, some of these girls manage to create a pretty solid future for themselves over here. However, most of them don’t get that far. Too tempted to play a game they won’t ever win, they rapidly find themselves locked in a downward spiral. We, theiremployer, become their pimp and their dealer, all under one roof. Mason’s right though. These bitches are fairly attractive and their hips will certainly roll perfectly against the pole or the crotch of a paying customer.
I wave my hands. “Oh, and make sure that that look of fear is washed off their faces. It stinks.”
The noises from inside the club become louder, meaning that the place is slowly filling with well-dressed ladies and gentlemen, hanging out at the bar or taking their bottles of expensive spirits to one of the many seating areas from where they have a front-row view of the dancers on stage.
“Yes, boss.”
“Boss?” One of the dark-haired women echoes, her full, glossy lips making an O shape before she mouths something in her sister’s ear in her mother tongue. Both women giggle like school girls, before Ella, who’s been working at the table, stands up and clears her throat.
“Right ladies. You heard him. Show respect and listen to your orders please.” More giggling from the sisters.
I ignore them and instead point at the other woman. “You.” She’s a beauty with silky white skin, blonde curls down to her shoulders and icy blue eyes. “Get her to work right away. It’s busy tonight, so it’s the perfect tryout. No dancing for now, just entertainment at the bar will do. Make sure that our clients buy enough drinks. Mason,” I turn to face him. “Tell the boys to make sure she stays inside tonight. We don’t want any virgin dancers running off during their first night on the job, do we?” Mason snickers and nods. I tilt my head and glance at the woman. “D’you understand me?”
She hesitates, then nods. “Use your words, honey.”
“Yes, uh, sir.” She has a Russian accent in her soft voice and I nearly burst out laughing at her choice of words.
“Oh boy.” Now she’s sweet and shy, but in two weeks, a woman like her will be an experienced tiger. Or a ruthless junkie. “Happy that we understand each other. What's your name?”
“Agnieszka.“
“We'll call you Agnes from now on, okay? Ella here will explain what will happen tonight and what the rules are in the club, payment, housing, blah blah blah. If you follow the rules, you’ll see that we have a lot of fun together. If you don't follow the rules, you’re going to have a problem with me. Are you feeling me?” I don’t wait for her answer, but turn my eye to the two Latino women. They’re attractive, with olive-colored skin, round, perky breasts, and narrow waists. A great addition to the dance pole.
“My name is Romina,guapo.“ The same mouthy woman eyes me with a lascivious look from behind thick eyelashes. “I came to this country to meet someone like you. Please allow me…“ She smiles, baring a series of beautiful white teeth as she moves forward and brushes her hand over my biceps. “To please you. I’ll do anything you want. And if you want…“ She runs her free hand across the cheek of the other woman who lowers her gaze uncomfortably. “My sister Mariana can join in. We can give you exactly what you want,señor.”
I stare into her batting eyelashes, then gently wrap a hand around her ponytail. I rub her skull softly, feeling a diabolical grin appear on my face. Ella coughs—an attempt to distract me, I know—but Romina still smiles her most seductive smile. Stupid cunt. Only when I start pulling her hair, forcing her head back, does she understand where this will end for her. “Señor,“ she yelps, panic lacing her voice, the sound further encouraging me to bend her head all the way back to reveal the most sensitive spot in her neck. My cock hardens in my pants when I stroke a single finger over the throbbing vein and linger there for a moment while ignoring the sniff from her sister. Just as Romina’s about to stumble back against the wall, I pull her back sharply. Her eyes bulge as she catches my glare.
“Know your place, bitch,” I whisper. “To me, you are a puppet on a string. And it’s me, and only me, who holds the string.” I lean in and let out a short sigh, before adding gruffly, “If I want to fuck you, I'll take you. If one of our clients wants to fuck you, they'll pay me. You…“ I run a finger over one of her breasts and watch with a soft chuckle as her nipple hardens under the thin material. “Give anyonewhatthey want,whenthey want it. Am I clear?” Romina gulps and nods shakily, eyeing her sister as if to silently beg her for protection. “Yes,SeñorDonnelly.”
“Good.” I take a step back and straighten my shirt. “Ella, Romina can sleep here tonight. Check with Detroit or San Francisco to see if they still have a vacancy for a girl. Let’s get this troublemaker far, far away from New York.” I eye her sister Mariana from head to toe, and the girl seems to shrivel completely now, her arms still wrapped tightly around her sister's shoulder. “Ella, this one can start working like Agnes.” I gaze blankly at all three women before nodding to no one in particular. Then I turn and make my way back into the bar, closely followed by Mason.
The twilight hangs like a blanket around the open space, making the formally dressed crowd nearly seem obscene. Or maybe that’s mostly due to the bright lights that rotate every few seconds to create more effect on the dancers. After having exchanged pleasantries with loyal customers, I catch Big at our usual spot in the back of the bar. After this morning's encounter, I haven’t heard from him. As I make my way to our spot, Mason hands me a glass of whiskey. Still walking, I polish it off in one go. “Another one.”
By now Angélique’s friends must have left. My heart skips a beat at the thought. Perhaps she’s left. Perhaps she refused my offer to stay longer. The offer…I’m so fucking pathetic. No, I’m a grumpy fucker, that’s what I am. And that’s exactly why I’m sure she hasn’t stayed. Hell, I can’t blame her for fleeing back home. After all, she’d been tied up in my apartment, for fuck’s sake.
No, it’s for the best that she left. I’m too busy, there are real threats coming at my family. And the look on her face, in those eyes, was too honest. Too innocent. She wouldn’t have lasted a week in my world.
As I approach our spot, Big gives me a firm nod and a grunt, proving that we’re still not okay. A completely mutual feeling, I growl internally as I ball my hands into fists.
“Logan,” Big mumbles and jerks a thumb toward the pool tables.
“What?” I spit, but follow his gesture anyway. I freeze at the sight of Angélique.
There’s something so elegant about the way she presents herself. A strange combination of soft and determined. Something airy, that I breathe in like a drug, my addiction.
It’s fucking terrifying.
She brushes her sand-colored, smooth hair out of her eyes with her hand, and the gesture looks so…pure. My mind’s toying with me, making me remember how she looked, tied up against the wall of my apartment, at my mercy. An unknown feeling begins to form in the pit of my stomach. It turns me on to see her like that. Fuck, it makes me hot. I’m so hot for her.
“Got a message from Jayden, they’re still working on it.” Mason interrupts my train of thought, but my eyes stay fixed on Angélique. “Logan? D’you wanna hang here? Or have another drink?”
“You know what,” I turn toward my bodyguard. “I might take things a little bit more private.”
