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“The last man I accepted help from was my husband. The man before that was Cyrus. Both made me their whore with no escape route.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“No, youcouldn’t.Because you’re someone’s whore, too.” I yank the handle and step through the open doorway.
Reece
Fuck. This was it, my one shot to get back in Cyrus’s good graces. And I just fucking ruined it by…what? What did I do wrong? I did everything Lexi, or Lenox, or who-the-fuck-ever that just was in here, told me to…except insist she come first. But she surprised the hell out of me by actually doing it, which was fucking hot, hotter because she wasn’t putting up a front. She couldn’t. She just let the fuck go. It was beautiful and intoxicating and—
And distracting. Damn it, what do I do now?
I can’t go back to Cyrus fired on the first day. He’ll kill me and force my sisters to bury my body…before making them clock in for their new jobs at The Playground. They’re not even out of high school yet.
Fuck!
Lenox. Lexi. She was right. She—
A scrap of black amongst the brown of the chair across from me snags my eye. Sticking out from where the cushion meets the armrest are the panties she took off.
She left incriminating evidence behind, something I’ve never done and would never do. This jacket of hers that’s got my spunk all over it now, it’s getting burned when I go home, along with any chance of anybody being able to figure out what happened in here today.
I knew before I walked in this morning where every camera on this floor was located as well as which ones were actively running. Lenox—not Lexi?—spoke about the camera pointing at her office like it was, but it’s not. It’s one of a few decoys I discovered placed around the forty-second level during my recon last night. Either she lied to me or she’s legitimately unaware someone’s looking out for the Debrosses’ privacy because not only is her office going unmonitored but so is both her husband’s and his brother’s.
If the wrong person were to stumble across those worn panties discarded in a public space while her husband’s holed up in the hospital, there’d be questions. Attention. Suspicion. None of which she can afford right now.
She does need help.
Lexi—
Lenox—
What the fuck do I call her? She didn’t seem to like either name when I tried them out. I’m not calling her Mrs. Debrosse. Kordin Debrosse doesn’t deserve to have that kind of claim on her.
Fuck, I’m calling her Lex. This shit’s too confusing.
“Tonic-immobility bullshit,” I mutter to myself while tucking my dick back in my pants. I also adjust my phone to stick half out of my pocket, so when I stand and twist, it falls out, skittering across the floor in the direction of Lex’s abandoned chair. Keeping the jacket in front of my hand as I bend to pick it up, I grab the panties, too, before pocketing both items and straightening.
I stop by the cubicle assigned to me, hiding Lex’s jacket in my bag under the desk, then go to the conference room. I wasn’t invited to the meeting but I’m new here. I don’t know what all my limitations are yet. At least that’s what I’ll say if anyone brings it up.
Even if I get kicked out, it’ll be worth it just to see the look on Lex’s face when she realizes she isn’t getting rid of me that quickly.
When I enter the room, everyone’s out of their seats, attention on Lex stationed at another wall of windows. Her shoulders are slumped forward, her head bowed, almost touching the glass, and when she turns in a circle, facing the room, her eyes are drowning in tears. What the fuck happened in here? She was away from me for a fucking second.
My first thought is Phil and that touchy-feely shit guys his age always try to pass off as innocent, so I round on him, but someone saying, “What the hell happened?” stops me in my tracks.
The other men tear their focus off Lex to glare at…me.
Me? What the fuck did I do?
Lex makes eye contact with me, her expression hardening.
Oh fuck. What did she tell them?
Lex shakes her head imperceptibly, so I keep my fucking mouth shut, lifting my chin a half inch to silently tell herlead the fucking way then.
“Is it your jacket?” Kaisin asks, and all eyes swing back to Lex, taking in her thin frame barely covered by a loose black tank and tight black skirt that stops well above her knees. I thought I saw some kind of markings on her wrists the other night at The Playground, but with both of us in constant motion and at each other’s fucking throats, it was a little hard to tell what they were. Then in her office, I was more interested in her pussy. And face.
There’s no mistaking the marks now though. They’re scars. Raised and pearl-colored, they run up her wrists and are about three or four inches long each. I’ve seen some of the girls at The Playground with similar scars, but don’t know what they’re from.
