AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Even if I’ve argued against getting into the flesh trade multiple times. It’s risky and dirty, and I don’t love the idea of buying and selling girls across the border. It’s the kind of thing that might draw unwanted attention, and our family has survived as long as it has thanks to clever planning and a dedication to secrecy.
Another loud moan escapes the room directly to my left. Guido glares at Zarita, who flushes red. I sigh and glance toward the parking lot, not embarrassed by the fucking—it’s a whorehouse, after all—but by the way Guido acts as though any small error might cause our association to end. My Pakhan is not so fickle as to hold the facts of his family’s trade against him, particularly when that’s what we want from them.
To learn how to run girls, and break into the industry.
“Last I spoke with your father, he said he’s thinking about, ah, investing in my enterprise,” Guido says as Zarita takes the group along the walkway. Enzo remains behind near the stairs, and I wonder if he’s about to break into that room to scold the poor girl getting humped by some sweaty businessman.
“An alliance is a better way of seeing it,” I say, frowning at him. “You provide us with resources and intelligence on running girls, and we help you expand into other business ventures in return. You grow, we grow, and everyone profits.”
“I wonder about that,” Guido says, still smiling, but his eyes are sharp. “My family has controlled the sex trade in this region for a long time now. I bled to build what we have, and my sons will continue on in my legacy when I am gone. But it seems shortsighted to train my own rivals and replacements.”
I nod once, understanding. He’s not wrong in his assessment, but he’s right, he is being shortsighted. “Whoring only gets you so far. You’re one of a dozen small families scattered all over Texas, eking out a decent living, but never growing. You know my father, the Pakhan. You know the influence my family wields in North Texas. We will muscle into your trade, whether you like it or not, but we are offering you the opportunity to get something for it.”
The muscles in his jaw work as we reach the door. Zarita wordlessly opens it.
I step inside. It looks like any other motel room I’ve seen. Beige carpet, cream-colored walls marked by smudges and dust, a queen bed with a dark green bedspread and several fluffy pillows, and a beat-up old flatscreen TV. It smells like cleaning products, chlorine and bleach, and the carpet looks like it’s stained in several spots. But it’s not so bad, all things considered.
I step inside and stop suddenly, my hand flying into my jacket as I catch movement near the bathroom in the back. I grip my sidearm and am about to draw it when a girl steps out tugging a little maid’s cart behind her.
I freeze and stare. She’s got thick, black hair and beautiful skin the color of sun-darkened sand. She struggles with the cart, cursing softly to herself, and finally gets it from the room and turns to meet my eyes.
It’s her.
I can’t believe it’s her.
Siena. The girl from that night two months ago. The virgin that gave me her first time and left without a word. I remember waking up in that bed alone and finding the bloodstain on the sheets. She was a gift and a curse.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since, and I never thought I’d see her again.
She’s a maid in a whorehouse. How is my virginal princess a maid in a whorehouse? It makes no sense and I feel like I’m reeling.
Her clothes are rumpled. She wears old jeans with holes in the knees and a ratty sweatshirt despite the heat. Her perfect, full lips fall open, and I remember what they felt like against my own—soft, supple, and incredible.
How is this possible? How is this happening, now of all times?
“Siena,” Zarita says, moving past me and deeper into the room, approaching the girl. “You were supposed to be finished here an hour ago.”
“I’m sorry, miss,” Siena says, blinking rapidly and forcing her gaze away from me and toward the madam. She lowers her head. “There was a problem with Ora’s customer that I had to clean, and then Lan got sick again, and by the time I finished—”
Zarita’s hand whips out. She smacks Siena across the face with a loud crack, and Siena’s head snaps to the side with a soft groan. She doesn’t fight back or try to cover herself, which suggests this has happened before.
Rage flares and burns hot and bright and I find myself reaching for my gun without thinking.
“Stop it,” I say, moving forward as Zarita goes to hit Siena again.
The older woman stops and stares at me with surprise in her eyes. I’m gripping my gun and breathing hard, and it’s taking all my willpower not to murder the woman on the spot. How dare she hit my Siena?
I shouldn’t be this upset—I’ve seen and done so much worse, and it doesn’t surprise me that they treat their employees like this. The Velvet Rope isn’t a kind place, and a woman like Zarita must be hard in order to make sure everything runs smoothly. Slapping a maid is likely the nicest thing she’s done all week.
But rage rolls through my body like a tidal wave. That old bitch hurt Siena, and even though the girl is nothing to me, nothing more than a single night and a bloodstain on some sheets, nothing more than a perfect memory that still gets my cock throbbing each time I bring it back to mind, I can’t help but want to defend her from this.
“Maxim, please. Zarita means no harm.” Guido steps up beside me, his smile wavering. “She only meant to discipline the girl. You were not supposed to see this little display.”
I stare at Zarita, my jaw working. “Get out,” I command.
The madam lowers her hand and looks to Guido.
Guido nods and waves her on. “You’re dismissed, Zarita.”
