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Inhuman.
Evil.
I tried to look after her, anyway, because it was a sickness. And when she found another brute of a man who hurt her, fed into that addiction of abuse, I finally walked.
I was almost seventeen, living on the streets, and here I fucking am now. Free of anything remotely like emotion or addiction.
I pour myself a drink and swirl it around in my glass.
Tonight, we’re on the cusp of everything I have planned for Henderson. But the jagged edges of anticipation grate on myinsides, and I need something to soothe the ache. Something like nicotine, which I understand. The girl in the other room? She’s not as easy.
My phone buzzes.
Malone.
Velvet Rope is old, Vale.
I sprawl in an armchair in the corner of my room with my drink in one hand, phone in the other.
VR is old, staid, and an institute for a reason, West.
Not one that Malone understands. He’s about dropping into the middle of everything, causing havoc, and watching the fallout.
He has style, and he’s meticulous behind the scenes, but then he’ll just dive in. Impulsively. Something I never do.
I got you on the list, got you registered as a long-time member. No one will question it.
“Except you,” I mutter, taking a gulp of my drink.
Are you going to share?
An irrational fury snakes through my bones.
This is a toy I’m not sharing.I have a job to do, remember? She’s part of the job.
Then you won’t mind…
I grip my glass tight in my fist.
Touch her and your life will end.
Good talk. Floor Madame is Liza. Redhead. Knows you’re coming.
I’m thinking there’s history there. Although with Malone, pretty as he is, that history probably comes with strings, pulleys, and weights.
I toss my phone onto a nearby table. I hate taking favors and being indebted to someone, especially Malone. It’s a small favor, but still…
The air pressure shifts, pulls at my attention, and I look upto see Ivy at the door. Her hand is raised like she doesn’t know if she should knock.
I take a minute to absorb our strange relationship. Built on hate, resentment, distrust. Lust and need and desire. A power imbalance from the outside, but two pieces that strangely fit together from the inside.
D/s is all about power exchanges.
I hold all the cards when Pollyanna looks.
And I’m painfully aware of the one card she holds.
My desire.
