Page 38 of Escape The Light


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“We are.” He flicks a blank look my way as we make our way up the stone steps.

“But we’re here.” He’s being obtuse, and it's annoying.

“Every employee and client has to sign an NDA. They can't discuss this place or its members, guests, or any other person who crosses its threshold.” We're at said threshold, and Stalin opens the door, greeting us both. “No one will say you were here,” he leans in to whisper as a broad business-type walks towards us, his head double-taking when he sees me being escorted in by the owner. He inclines his head to Callan and drops his gaze, refusing to acknowledge me.

I stare back over my shoulder, unable to put the level of trust in his clients or employees.

“How do you know you can trust everyone?” I say with unease.

“I don’t.” We step inside, and Stalin shuts us in. “But each employee is far better off on my good side than bad, and they know that. Each client is handpicked and invited. This club is invite only. We extensively research our members before we reach out to them.” When he said it was an exclusive club, I had no idea just how much.

“And the clients, are they better on your good or bad side?" How can he trust that man isn’t going to say I was here?“They know where they stand.”Riddles again.

“And me?”

“I prefer you beneath me.”

“Nice.” I tut. He grins over his shoulder and drops back to take my hand. My eyes widen, but I look away. He's never held my hand in public before. I don’t want to overthink this, but Callan is pretty closed off, and we share very little physical affection, so feeling his big warm hand enveloping mine feels both alien and nice. I’m conscious not to relax my hand and run my fingers over his skin. Stalin leads the way, and we head towards the back to Callan’s office. I remember the layout from my very short visit here before.

“She still in there?” Callan demands. I have no idea what he is talking about, and Stalin gives a very sharp but short nod. Callan stops and looks at me. “Do me a favour and play along?” I search his eyes. Play along with what? His head tilts, and I nod, unsure what I'm agreeing to. Just what or who am I going to find on the other side of this door? I'm not left guessing for long, as Stalin stands back, letting us pass. Callan pushes his way in, my hand in his.

“Katryna.” He sounds bored, his usually rich tone dry and lacking emotion, and as we step around the door, my eyes bug. I recover quickly, but a bubble of laughter is rushing up my throat. I clear it as I take in the near-naked woman spread out on his lounger. She slants narrow eyes at him, and they flare with recognition when she sees me, and now she looks pissed.

“I didn’t realise you were arriving with a guest.” Her accent is thick, Eastern European, and the way she says ‘guest’ tells me her English is a lot better than her accent suggests. She isn’t pleased about me being here.

“Zara isn’t my guest. She's my girlfriend.” Years of manipulating my emotions stop me from choking out a shocked laugh.Girlfriend, the term feels unnatural and a whimsical part of me I have long buried rears her head. So this is why I'm here. I’m a pawn.

She erupts into a string of foreign words—swear words I believe are all directed at the unimpressed male staring at her, clearly bored. I catch his lips twitching and frown. He understands her?

“You don't date!” she finally adds. This woman really isn’t happy. She sits up, her face a picture of shock and hurt.

“Didn't,” he replies darkly. He pulls me to his side and leans in, pressing his lips to my hairline. It shocks both me and the other woman. Her lips open in an audibly painful gasp. My skin tingles from that one touch. “You'll do well to remember that me, and my office, are off-limits. I’m your boss,” Callan warns.

“But—” she blabbers, her jaw hanging open. “I thought.” This is difficult to watch. Why has he brought me here and manipulated me to endure her pain? Her face flushes, her chest heaving, and she narrows her eyes, her pain quickly transforming into anger.

“You thought wrong,” Callan bites out.

She focuses her attention on me.

“He slept with me,” she declares loudly, her thin lips pulling up at the sides. But he has rules? I don't understand. Who is she? Do I blame him? The woman is stunning. Her long bronzed hair hangs down to her waist,and her figure is well looked after. She is incredibly sexy, and I’m sure many clients pay for her time and now, her boss, so it seems. I try not to let my own discomfort show.

Callan barely shifts, but I feel his thumb rub along my pulse. My heart is hammering away. I feel sick. I shouldn't, but I've been sleeping with him too. We're not exclusive by any means, but I thought he would at least be loyal. How long have they been involved?

I can’t bear the thought of being viewed as the other woman, someone to be pitied.

“I know,” I find myself saying. “Callan mentioned his past before I moved in. And the cameras speak for themselves.” I allude to having been a viewing participant to their night together. “I knew what I was getting into.” I give her my best smile and watch as she grits her teeth. She stands quickly and storms out, leaving us alone and me glaring at the beast of a man standing in the centre of his office with a smirk on his face. Oh, this is absolutely not funny. “What in the actual fuck, Callan!”

“What?” He laughs, his eyes creasing and his hand hitting his upper stomach.

“I’m sure you could have dealt withthatby yourself,” I huff, not finding him funny in the slightest. What I really want to know is when he slept with the naked psycho?

“Where is the fun in that? Besides, I like you jealous.” He gnaws his lip and tugs me to his hips.

I huff. I am not jealous. “A little more of a heads up wouldn't have gone amiss,” I grumble. Has he been fucking her too?

“You're angry,” he replies, his laughter dying off, his face becoming more serious. “It was before our arrangement.” That one word ‘arrangement’ has the power to eliminate any delusions I was having on my way in here with the handholding, that and the naked woman. “A momentary lapse on my part.”

“Evidently. If I'm honest, you don’t strike me as the kind to mix business and pleasure.”

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