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“The only thing you’ve ever had inside of you are your own fingers.”
“Finger,” I correct, but my skin is feverish at his words.
His face twitches like he wants to smile, but he quickly gets himself under control.
“I’ll fuck you, Phoenix. But not here and not in front of all these people.”
I fight back the tears of humiliation. “Why not?”
Now he looks flustered, his usually cocky face almost sheepish.
“I want something just for me. I don’t want to share you with anyone else.”
I open and close my mouth. There is nothing. No words. I do the only thing that I can think to do in such an awful situation. I leave.
I gather myself enough to hurry down the hall, through the foyer, and fumble with the door to get it open. I bang on the door twice in frustration and finally it opens and I rush out.
What were you expecting from him?I ask myself over and over. I don’t know if I’m angrier that he had his hands all over that woman or because he didn’t have his hands all over me.
“No, you don’t want him,” I say out loud. I don’t. I really don’t. He was right. I’m drunk.
I groan and walk for a while before bothering to get a car. I only ever take a taxi after a party, needing the fresh air when I’m out of the studio. When I’m close to my apartment, I remind myself that the evening wasn’t a complete bust. I open my clutch, and even in the dark, the sparkle of the diamond watch is stunning. Some of my anger evaporates, and I smile and close my purse, satisfied. This should help more than all of the bracelets put together. Watches are a rare find, especially with all the diamonds still in place.
The flash of Jackal’s body moving behind that woman, his fingers gripping her, floods into my mind. My mouth waters and I open my eyes, grateful for the dark.
“Thank you,” I tell the driver before getting out.
I’m a few steps from the front entrance of my building when a hand touches my shoulder. I jump sky-high. Damn Jackal has made me so distracted that I wasn’t even paying attention. Thief mistake number one.
She’s tall, hair tucked underneath a hat. I can’t make out her face. She assesses me from where she stands.
“Yes?” I ask, moving closer to the door.
“Thank you for your contribution,” she says.
“Jewel?” I hiss.
I’ve never seen her in person, at least not when I’ve been aware that it’s her, but we’ve talked through our Silverbooks for months now, and she says this after every donation I leave on the random doorsteps I’m assigned to.
She blinks, her only confirmation.
“Do you mind if I come up?” she asks. “It’s probably not a good idea to talk out in the open…”
I want to sayyes, I do mind, but that would probably not go over well. My hands tremble slightly as I hover the chip in my wrist over the entry, still shaky from being startled out of my dreamworld. The door slides up and we walk inside the building, silent as we ride the elevator to the twelfth floor. I can feel her eyes on me, so I study her in return. She stands a good six inches taller than me and has spiky studs on her boots that would be frightening in a dark alley...or in an elevator late at night.
The elevator dings and we step off, walking to my door. When we step inside, the lights automatically lift to a comfortable brightness and I hold my hand out toward the minibar in my living room.
“Would you like a drink?”
She shakes her head, her attention shifting off of me and onto the things in my apartment. She does a thorough check of my house, scanning it with a device I don’t recognize, over fixtures and under my table and chairs, my Silverbook. When she’s satisfied, she abruptly turns around and faces me.
“We need your help. You’ve shown your dedication to the Revolution.” She smirks and her face changes drastically with that adjustment, putting me at ease. “Your tenacity with taking from those who don’t know what to do with their wealth has been entertaining. Thank you.”
I curtsy and she grins bigger. I eventually smile back.
“Are you willing to do more?” she asks.
She’s not afraid to stare me down. I imagine her in staring contests as a child and would wager she won every time. I look away, dammit.
