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She doesn’t speak, but I whisper an I’ll see you soon.
Her life will never be the same after today.
4
“SHE DANCES FOR NO one but me.”
“Christ, Asher!” Liam yelps, jumping in his seat. He’s been hiding inside this office all night, and as I walk in an hour later, I can see the why. He has a girl on his lap: late twenties, a redhead, and practically naked. The man is imbibing. Sampling what he perceives as his own merchandise. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Not my problem.” Not waiting for an invitation, I take a seat across from them and lean back. Watch him squirm while the girl begins to play with a loose curl around her bare shoulders. “Now, about London.”
“Figures.” His companion mutters low, something he ignores. Knows better than to acknowledge, but I don’t miss her grimace when he tightens his hold on her midsection. “But it’s true.”
“Shut it, Stacy.”
“No, Liam. Let her talk…” I narrow my eyes at her “…finish. Say what you need to say.”
“She’s too innocent for a place like this. Too inexperienced, and I worry certain clients will eat her alive.”
I almost smile at her perceptiveness. She’s right on both accounts, and I won’t be the only one to take notice of Twirl’s naivete. However, I’ll do more than that. I’m going to consume her and make her dependent on me.
Show her brother and father before they take their last breath that I own them. Destroy without a single repercussion. Alton chose their lives’ path, and I’m now fate here to collect.
At my silence, Liam becomes nervous. Curious, while his body language shows discomfort. “I apologize if London ruined your night. Did she upset you?” His worry is almost comical—full of apprehension that I will lash out. Pussy. “She’ll get better. It was her first day and dance.”
His words please me. I was her first.
It’s an egotistical response. Feeds my need as an alpha to dominate and conquer.
To own. Be everything she will ever need.
“This man is just going to use her,” Stacy mutters under her breath, but I hear and so does Liam. It’s obvious she isn’t quite sure who I am and that she worries about London, so I let it slide this once.
However, how loud she’s now popping her gum in a show of annoyance is downright disrespectful. Motherfucking nasty habit.
“Don’t concern yourself with London. Just make sure she doesn’t dance...” my glare settles on the redhead and she dry-swallows the gum “...much less goes near any of your other clients.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Sweat beads at his brow while he frowns. Thinking. “I scheduled her for one more client tonight. A friend of a friend.”
Sitting back, I take a second to rein in my rage. Breathe in deep while looking around the spacious room. It’s opulent, heavily furnished, and predictable in its display of wealth. The paintings alone in this room would set him back millions—stolen originals come with a hefty price tag.
And then there is him.
Heavier set, hair dyed to hide his greys, and an expensive Cartier on his wrist. A wife and a few teenagers at home while he fucks anything that walks. He doesn’t discriminate. He doesn’t care as long as his dick gets wet.
Be a real pity if he loses it all.
“Find her.”
“I can guarantee her starting tomorrow?”
“She’s getting ready for her next client now.” They speak in unison, but my attention stays on her. That’s when I notice a few things aside from her trashy appearance.
This woman doesn’t look like the rest. She’s fidgety; lipstick smeared a bit and pupils dilated.
There isn’t a single doubt that she is high.
Leaning forward, I wave a hand. “Explain.”
