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They’re high-class prostitutes. They don’t work the street. That’s obvious at a glance. They move through the room with confidence, comfortable in their heels and their bodies. Their easy, seductive smiles have turned this into an upscale version of a frat party.
Bettencourt could afford the best of the best, and that’s exactly what he chose. They don’t hesitate. They don’t show any fear. They have faith in the agreements they’ve made.
But at the core? They’re just like me.
They know the risks of the work. Get close enough to a given person to do your job, and you’re close enough for them to hurt you.
One of them is rounding the corner of the conference table. Her long, blonde hair falls in straight waves over her shoulders. If I ran my fingers through it, there wouldn’t be a single knot.Her movement shifts the air around her. I catch the scent of her perfume in the air.
It’s Dior Eau Sauvage.
I can’t.
I can’t take another breath.
I can’tmove.
She keeps coming, glancing down to navigate around the chair that Jacob sat in. I can’t stop her. It would only take one word out of my mouth, but my jaw is locked down tight. My lungs ache from holding my breath.
Oppressively humid air seeps into my clothes. It’s not possible. The air in the Bettencourt International headquarters is filtered and conditioned. It’s not happening. My lungs spasm, sucking in a breath, and I taste grime and overflowing garbage.
You’re cute, you know that? How much do you want?
No.
I don’t think you understand. You’re the one who made the offer. And you’ve already caused a problem, see? This is from you, and you’re going to fix it.
Please, no. Nobody has touched the lights, but the conference room is getting darker. It’s starting to look like a brick wall. It’s starting to look like an alley.
Got you.
A hand slips into mine. Warm. Dry.
I look down and find Elise looking back at me. “Let’s go somewhere private.” She’s too loud. Bettencourt hears. “I want you with me.”
20
ELISE
For a good ten seconds,I’m not sure if Gabriel can hear me.
He stares down into my eyes like I’m a ghost. His eyes go to our linked hands, then back to my face.
My pulse speeds up. This is what happened before. Except nobody is waiting for us to have sex anymore. Even my sick bastard of a father, who’s oscillating between rage and satisfaction at my last-second demand to join the consortium myself, has moved on to the call girls. I wouldn’t put it past my dad to engineer another harrowing test in the middle of the “celebration,” but Chambers and Newhouse don’t seem to think that will happen.
Newhouse has downed one drink already and clutches a second one. Chambers keeps congratulating Jacob on joining the consortium like it’s a bigger accomplishment than graduating from college and successfully managing large parts of the overseas branch of the family company. My father hovers nearby, his attention on a prostitute who has similar auburn hair to Catherine’s.
Jacob ignores all the prostitutes. He answers his father’s questions and my father’s questions. Newhouse can’t resistbeing drawn into their group. He says something to Jacob, who answers, his handsome face wearing an expression that’s more observant than gleeful.
He takes another glance at Gabriel, then meets my eyes, raising his eyebrows over his drink.
I’m not sure if it meanssomething is going on with himorwhat the hell are you waiting for? Get him out of here.Probably both.
Definitely both.
The sixth prostitute is a couple of steps behind me, approaching with a tray of drinks, but Gabriel doesn’t move. He looks into my eyes like we’re standing in the path of an oncoming train and there’s nothing to do but let it hit us.
I squeeze his hand again. “Come on. Let’s go.”
