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John responds, “I think we have the ’why’.”
I lean forward, my eyes narrowing, eager for more information. “Oh?”
“Your other guy from last night, the one with the false identity,” John reveals, “Real name, Eric Royce.”
My heart sinks as I realise the implications. That was the name Candy gave us. “What about him?”
“He’s the son of the foster home owners where Candy Grace Canse was placed,” John confirms, his face tense.
I mutter a curse under my breath. “Fuck.”
John continues, “Yeah. There’s no record to say that he did what she claims, but—”
“But we know he did,” I interrupt, my frustration evident in my tone.
John nods, his expression grim. “Yeah. Not a nice guy. I’ll send over his current file, but there are some sealed records from his teenage years that might be of interest too.”
“Thanks,” I say with a sense of grim determination.
“No problem, Wint. Want me to keep digging?” John offers.
“Absolutely. I want to know everything,” I reply firmly.
After the call ends, I head back into the club, my steps purposeful, my mind racing with the information I’ve just been given. I enter my office, and with a resolute expression, I review Aidan’s file, Elle’s application, and the false file of Eric fucking Royce, determined to uncover the truth.
Killing two birds with one stone, I search for the address of Candy’s old foster home. I want to go there and ask my own questions. I can only imagine what happened to her as a child and I want to know the truth.
I sigh deeply, my shoulders slumping for a moment. But then, I straighten up, my expression determined. I’m going to get the answers I need, and I’m going to be there for her. I want to know the truth, and if there’s any way I can save her from her past, I’ll do it.
CANDY
Vixen squeals with excitement when I step into the dressing room. “Damn, girl, I knew you had legs but damn. That dress last night! Those shoes. Girl, you’ve been holding out on me. Where did you get those Choos?”
I grin at her enthusiasm and look down at Elle’s heels which I’m wearing again because it was these, or barefoot. “They’re my friend’s.”
“Fuck! I wish we were the same size. But oh no, stupid old Gigantor over here has to have size seven feet. I’m practically a man!” she wails, making me laugh at her outlandish theatrics.
“You know Gigantor saved the world though, right?”
“He did?”
“Yeah.”
“Awesome. How’d he do it? One epic winged eyeliner at a time?”
“That’s what I heard. You’re here to do me, right?”
She sniggers and I shake my head. “Any day babe. Just say the word and I’m all yours. But your little entourage of admirers might have something to say about that.”
“Entourage?” I ask, raising a brow in amusement. I think she’s slightly exaggerating. So I kissed Dash, fooled around withWint, and slept with Don. That hardly qualifies for an entourage. Does it?
“Yeah Sugar, you have an entourage,” Don growls, making me startle because I forgot he was with me. “And I’m at the fucking head of it, no matter what happens tonight with you and Dash. Got that?”
I open my mouth but no words come out, which just makes Don smirk and Vixen chuckle. He kisses me on the cheek, pats my ass and says, “Be good”. It’s all I can do not to swoon.
As soon as he’s gone, Vixen pats the stool in front of one of the dressing room mirrors. “Come sit. I heard I have to make you even more fuckable tonight and the innocent little virgin act is out!”
“Is it?” I ask, still lost in Don’s words. What does he mean he’s at the head of my entourage? Is he…claiming me all of a sudden? We only slept together that once, but he was crazy protective last night. Shit, I don’t know.
