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I glanced down and the fucking floor dropped beneath me.
A blank white chip.
My blank white chip.
The one that I lost to her in a game when she sat in her father's stead.
A favor chip. Something I never would’ve lost—never would’ve offered—to her father. And maybe she'd caught me in a moment of weakness when I lost it to her, but I never allowed myself to think about what would happen when she actually used it.
“I'm calling this in,” she said, her voice sweeter than honey.
I motioned for her to come inside, my mind instantly churning with what she could possibly need at this time of night.
I closed the door behind her, and she only made it a few feet inside before she spun around and untied the coat, letting it fall open to reveal a long, white silk nightgown that was edged in lace and danced at her ankles.
My blood turned to liquid fire. It was all I could do to hold in my reaction and keep a neutral expression.
She was the most gorgeous creature I'd ever laid eyes on, all smooth, unmarked skin, delicate curves, and innocent eyes.
“I need you to take me,” she said, her voice cracking.
Did she just tremble?
Fuck me, was she afraid to be in the room with me? Hadn’t I shown her ever since she started attending our monthly poker games that I was on her side? I was always the first one to put Doyle in his place when he was being an absolute prick to her, let alone check on her even when I wasn't supposed to, like when we’d all played never have I ever and she’d been more of a bystander than a participant, thanks to her more-than-sheltered upbringing. I’d offered to opt out of the game with her, but she’d politely refused.
“Take you where?” I asked, my voice rough as I tried my best not to drop my gaze below her beautiful face. It was fucking hard. She was a dream.
She was calling in her favor for a ride on the jet? That would certainly let me off the hook, but didn't she know the power that chip held?
Her laugh was a hurried, slightly broken sound, and it made me wonder what her real laugh sounded like.
“This is harder than I thought,” she said, shaking her head.
“What is?”
“Seducing you,” she said, shrugging.
“I’m sorry?” I asked, taking a massive step back, my spine hitting the door. I’d have been less shocked if she’d pulled a gun on me.
She blew out a breath, her eyes on mine. “That favor chip is supposed to be good for whatever I want. And what I want is for you to have sex with me. I know that's a lot to ask. I figured with the incredibly long list of women you see casually, I thought you could fit me in, just this once.” She trailed her gaze over me, and I just stood there gaping at her. “I know you came up here alone,” she continued. “So I know I'm not taking you away from anyone else. You’d never have to think about it again after we’re done.”
Words. Speaking. Respond.
Had I just dropped into the fucking twilight zone? How the hell was Serenity O'Brien standing in my hotel room, looking sexy as hell, begging me to fuck her?
“That's not what that favor chip is for,” I said. “And what do I look like? A stud for hire?”
“Funny you should say stud for hire,” she said with a little spark in her voice, like she was angry with me. “If you don't do this, if you don't grant me this favor, my life is over.”
Something sharp clenched my chest.
“My father is downstairs right now,” she continued. “He's making a deal for me. Selling me like some horse for breeding. He's trying to make up for losing the Bangor team as the organization’s cash funnel. I'm going to end up married to a seventy-year-old mobster who treats me worse than my father does, if you can imagine that. Unless,” she continued, “I’m not the pure prized asset he’s trying to sell.”
Anger sliced through me, my muscles clenching as the fight-or-flight instinct took over my body.
Heavily fucking leaning toward fight.
Up until now, I'd suppressed every urge to knock out Doyle's teeth every single time he said something awful to her. But this? Selling his own daughter? I knew he was still heavily entrenched in the old ways—where loyalty, obedience, and service to the family was everything—but this was fucking crossing a line.
