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Then her mouth pops open. And the noise comes out of it again.
“What the hell was that?!” she shrieks, all the blood gone from her face. “You were trying to kill me!”
“I mean, if I’d fucked up, I’d have died too. And look, here you are, alive,” I say, offering her my hand, keeping the other on the bike. She could let it topple right on top of her, with how shaky her legs are right now. Maybe even if she was at full strength, who knows?
“Oh, I don’t make any promises you’re gonna survive the next five seconds,” she threatens under her breath. She slips awkwardly from the pillion seat to mine, and stumbles off of the bike, rebuffing my hand. I try not to smile. The idea of her even being a mild risk to my wellbeing is comical. She’s small and curvy and doesn’t look like she’s been doing any long distance running lately, let alone advanced martial arts training, so unless she’s packing a gun somewhere on her that’s got silver bullets loaded into it, I’m pretty safe.
“C’mon, this is my place.”
“Whatever,” she mumbles and tags after me. She’s struggling to get her helmet off, fingers slipping on the catch.
“Put that on the bench,” I point to the workbench I keep in the garage. Once she’s in, and the bike’s parked, the door descends behind us, shutting out the world. And shutting us in. A spiral staircase to our right leads to my loft, and I beckon for her to follow me.
“Is this where you harvest my kidneys?” she asks as she follows me up.
“I don’t think they’re worth much. What’s the Lowtown life expectancy, 60 years? 55? Less?” She’s quiet at my icy joke of a response, but it could also easily be my place that’s struck herimmediately mute. The metal stairs clanged under our shifting weight as we ascended, but my loft is swathed in a hum of warm silence. The windows are triple paned to keep the screeching din of the city out of my life, and the whole place is more opulent than she’s likely ever seen in her life.
I crane my neck to look at her as I walk toward the kitchen area of the open plan main floor, and yeah — I’m right. Total Cinderella moment.
She stops, her mouth dropping open, and she looks like a kid in a candy store, a toy shop, and a candy-candy store all at once.
The loft is large and expansive, with a massive living space. When I first came through the portal ten years ago, I had nothing. I’ve built this place with my wits, charm, and my fists when I needed to. My home reflects that. Even if it was always meant to be temporary, I wasn’t willing to live in a shithole.
She’s staring all around. Up the twenty-foot ceiling to the stark, black iron-work chandelier, to the giant TV in the far wall, to the gas fireplace…
It’s a sex den. And it looks it. The red leather couches and dark furnishings don’t do much to make it appear otherwise.
I wonder for a moment what she’d look like, sprawled over one, her legs taut and spread while I dive between them, with my tongue…
That jolt of electricity in my groin jerks me semi-awake again, and I yank the fridge open.
“Water?” I ask her, and she slowly turns to me, lips parted in shock.
“Okay, for real, what the hell do you want with me?” she asks, voice folded down small, as she suddenly realizes how outclassed she is here. “You’re gonna take my kidneys.”
“I’m really not,” I say, pouring her a glass of water. “Drink. I’m not completely altruistic. No, you’ll work for what I’m giving you, but maybe I don’t think it’s okay when family sells you down the river.”
She flinches, and I’m not sure how much of that is that she’s finally believing me that her sister and dad were up to no good, or if the bitterness of my own memories has seeped into my voice. Maybe a bit of both. Oh well.
“Drink, consume, imbibe,” I urge her again. She approaches the marble kitchen island with hesitation, and then picks up the glass, and slowly does as instructed. Her eyes flutter shut, and she pauses, inhaling a big lungful of air.
“Oh my god,” she says, and it hits me.
“You’ve really never been out of lowdown,” I say. Her eyes flick open, and I realize they’re blue. Huh. I hadn’t noticed before.
“The water—”
“Tastes good when it’s clean? Yeah. It’s a shocker,” I say, feeling something in my chest I wanna ignore. Is it, pity? Maybe? Nah. Time to reel her in. “I’ve actually been looking for a new manager for my club here in uptown. I’ve been watching you at work for a while—”
If stalking her while she worked the sad little picnic tables outside her family’s squalid ‘bar’ counted as watching, then sure, it wasn’t a lie at all.
“And you know how to handle yourself. And in a way that I like. I need some of that sensibility here.” I gesture to a reinforced iron door opposite the gigantic wall of windows. She follows my movement with her eyes and frowns.
“I run one of the most exclusive private members’ clubs in the entertainment district,” I say, and her eyebrows track upwards.
“And you want my help running it?” she asks, reasonably suspicious. “Me?”
I grin at her.
