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‘You’re late,’ I snarled, seeing her entering the room.
‘I needed to change,’ she barely murmured while I had noticed her making visible efforts to glance through the darkness.
What the fuck was so complicated about my request? It was fucking written right there black on white:24-hour City break ;$1500;Requirements; Bea; Now.
‘Did I ask you to change?’ I could barely hold back a groan, realizing she might be as dumb as any other stripper working at my clubs.
How the fuck did she even get past Vanya’s tests?
‘You wouldn’t have appreciated the type of clothes I was wearing.’ Her answer came with a bitter tone clinging to the words. She was probably trying to make an impression. Still, that wasn’t excusing her from not understanding a simple request.
‘And do you think I appreciate these? I don’t care what type of clothes you usually wear. If I did base myself on that, you wouldn’t be here today.’ It was time for her to see who she was talking to. I decided the lights in the room could be turned on.
I had no doubt that she recognized me on spot. I could see it in the surprised look in her eyes as she was studying me from head to toe, unsure what kind of psycho I was.
The answer was simple — the most fucked-up kind. And there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d let her back down after recognizing where she saw me before. I had too much at stake to blow it off over a pretty face.
I had to admit, she did own the beauty card. The more I was looking her way, the more I was admitting the danger I was truly in. I didn’t ask for her because I considered her perfect for the job. I asked her out of one of my dick’s mood swings and I would have to deal with that part eventually.
At least, I was getting to see the full package she had to offer. ‘Take them off,’ I ordered, waiting for her to remove her clothes.
...which, of course, she didn’t. ‘Excuse me!?’ her tone shocked by my command.
It seemed I was getting some entertainment for the night. ‘Your clothes, I want them gone.’
No need to mention the merry-go-round necessary to convince her to change... or my body that was betraying any kind of mission objectives, being mesmerized by a piece of underwear.
I needed to get over whatever the fuck was going on with me and focus on the mission. At least that’s what I kept repeating to myself all the way to the car.
Despite my visible state of annoyance, there was something else that was interesting her even more than The Pleasure of the night. She wanted to know how it was that she ended up at The Pleasure Room.
I ignored the question at first, mostly because the same thought was spinning in the back of my mind.
Why did I really choose her?
Couldn’t quite answer that one. Not even after half an hour of making out with the whiskey glass. But I could let her know that I made all of it possible. She had a job thanks to me... she had a chance thanks to me. And I was in line for some gratitude — even so, any kind of payment would have to wait since the mission held priority.
I gave her instructions on what she needed to do for this task — smile and look pretty. That was her entire job for the hours to come, and I had a bad feeling that she was going to screw it up somehow.
‘I will be Joshua Davis and you, Milenna Russo, for the night. I am an entrepreneur and often do charity work, so we met when you came to our foundation to ask for our help with a local canteen for the needy.’ I was creating a background for ourlove storywhen I was interrupted by her laughter. ‘Do I amuse you, Bea?’
That quickly washed away the smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
‘No,’ she breathed.
‘Then what is it?’ I needed to get that shit over with and go on with what I had to say to her.
‘I was thinking that if you want to make a gullible background, maybe we should change the part where you do charity work.’
Where did that bitch find the nerve to judge what I could and couldn’t do?
I felt the veins in my temple pulsing, seconds away from exploding.
‘There are five dinners in the Pit that every night, after 10 pm, serve warm food to whoever needs it. All mine. Would you like to review the charity part of the story in your case?’
Okay, maybe, I didn’t manage to be the insensitive bastard I would have liked and I could have just punched myself in the face for admitting that to her.
But I refused to let her make false assumptions about me. Besides, the food would have gone to waste if I hadn’t given it away. It was a win-win situation from what I could see. People got free dinners and I was getting tax deductions.
