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He sets his martini glass on the divider between seats and touches my arm. “We’ll leave when I’m ready. Try to amuse yourself.”
My shoulders tense. After the altercation, I’m less inclined to maintain my docile façade. I lean against him and press my lips to his neck, all the while keeping my gaze on the others in the lounge. Then I deftly slip my hand over his martini glass and release the contents of the vial.
“All right, baby. I’m ready when you are.” I push away, taking a few seconds to compose myself before I return to my seat next to him.
Ericson should start to feel the GHB in a few minutes. It’s a strong enough dose that he’ll simply appear inebriated to his friends, but will make him very suggestible. I’ll lead him to his office where I can gain access to his computer and other company systems.
I could bag the whole charade and just break into the building, but I like to keep my jobs on the legal front, for the most part. Saves a headache with police and court proceedings.
I glance at the time on my phone screen, recalling the watch in my purse. During Alex’s lap dance, I noticed his reaction was protective. This object is important to him. While Ericson is observing two of the escorts grinding against each other to the beat of the house music, I slip out the pocket watch and click it open.
It’s a basic watch face with pewter hands. The secondhand ticks away. There’s nothing special about the watch that I can tell, but what do I know about watches or even antiques? I’ll search the Internet later.
Ericson’s head starts to sway, his eyes glassing over. I tuck the watch into my purse and slide his way, run the tips of my fingers along the nape of his neck. He revels in the stimulation, the drug that courses his veins makes every touch heightened, pleasurable.
He reaches over and palms my thigh.
Knowing what I do about this guy, his touch should repulse me, and it does on some surface level. But this is work. Luckily, I don’t have to battle emotions to stay focused on the job. That’s what makes me good at what I do.
“I want you.” I say it loud enough so he can hear me over the music and his drug-induced state. His hand starts to creep upward, and I halt his progression. “Not here. Let’s go.”
After a moment of coaxing him to follow me, we leave the seating area of the VIP lounge. My hand firmly gripped to his, I steer him toward the stairs…where he pulls me to a stop.
He tugs me into an alcove between the VIP section and the balcony. It’s private—too private.
“I love this hair.” His fingers crawl into my hair and he grips a thick hank, giving it a firm tug.
“Ericson…” I coo his name as he presses me against the wall. “Take me somewhere we can be alone.”
He drops his head to my neck, kissing a sloppy trail along the hammock of my neckline and shoulder. “We are alone,” he insists.
Not wanting to make a scene, I plant my hands on his chest. “Morealone,” I stress.
His body goes rigid. His grasp around the back of my neck clamps tight.Dammit. I may have wasted the syringe on the wrong man. My thoughts turn to the switchblade that I carry in my purse for added protection.
His eyes find mine, and there’s a molten anger swirling in the light hues. His fingers burrow into my skin as he wrenches my head back. “Do what I say, bitch.” His free hand tears at the hem of my dress and drags it upward.
The GHB was supposed to subdue him. Either it wasn’t potent enough, or Ericson is having an adverse reaction—like it’s unleashing an even more sinister creature within him.
Regardless, this can’t happen.
His fingers clumsily seek between my thighs, and I fight back. I let my clutch fall to the floor as I raise my hands to break his hold. I windmill my arms and collide against his iron hold.
He shoves his knees between my legs and flattens his body against mine, preventing a second attempt. “Oh, you like it rough, baby. I can get rough.”
Completely inappropriately, I roll my eyes. I can’t help it. What’s worse than a rapist? A rapist who quotes clichés.
He slams the back of my head against the wall, and my vision wavers. I feel the material along the slit of my dress rip; his greedy hands fondle my ass. I should find a way out of this situation that doesn’t jeopardize the job, but my self-preservation rears.
I wedge my hands up to find his face and dig my thumbs into his eye sockets.
He howls and stumbles backward. As he tries to clear his vision, I move in and knee him in the balls for good measure before I retrieve my purse and escape.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
I exit the VIP lounge and weave through gyrating bodies, not looking back.
It’s fucked.
