Eventually, in what feels like forever, I make it home and leave his car parked on the street. It’s a nice car, probably one of the nicest I will ever get to drive in my life. But, to be honest, I wasn’t paying all that much attention to the luxurious details as I sped away to get home. Opening my door, Brody jumps from the couch and gapes at me.
“Chanel.”
Quickly, I wave him off and start pushing the couch to the door to barricade it. It probably won’t stop him, but it may give me a head start.
Brody helps me manuever it. “Is he coming back for you?”
I stand back once the couch is in place and walk toward the bathroom. “Of course he is,” I shout as I step into the shower after stripping off my soiled clothes.
I let the steaming hot water hit me and manage to wash my body before my eyes snap open when the bathroom door is kicked in by fucking Lucas.
That didn’t take him long.
Through the glass shower door, I can see Brody run in behind him, but he quickly looks away when he enters the bathroom. “He got in. I couldn’t stop him.”
“It’s fine, Brody. Shut the door.”
He hesitates, then does what I ask. I continue on with what I was doing and start lathering shampoo in my hair while Lucas stands there and watches. I’m not going anywhere until I’ve washed the stench he left me in from my body. And I don’t give two fucks that he is standing there watching me either.
“I’ll leave, if you kiss me.”
Honestly, what the actual fuck!
My gaze flies to his face, and I see a smirk on his lips—beautiful, full, sinister lips. Those lips could tell horror stories, I’m sure.
“Get in, then.” I don’t think he actually will when I say this, but he surprises me as he steps in, fully clothed, and stands in front of me.
“My cock is sore.”
“I’m not kissing your fucking cock better,” I point out.
“Figured as much.”
I lean forward and, just as he thinks I’m going to kiss his lips, I move to kiss the side of his neck. It was a mistake because when I smell him, and feel his skin under my lips—and believe me, he smells devine—and the way he feels, it makes my lips tingle but I would never tell him that, so I pull back. “Now, leave,” I tell him, lifting my hands again to rinse out the shampoo. The water sprays over him, but he acts like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“I should have stipulated where.”
“But you didn’t, so leave,” I bite back. His eyes drop to my bare breasts, and he leans forward. “You can’t afford to touch them.”
“If Chase can, I can,” he replies.
“No, you cannot. Because I set the price for each client. And for a client like you, the price is incredibly high.” His lip pulls at the side, when I reach for the conditioner.
Lucas doesn’t touch, he just keeps watching.
Eventually, he asks, “What’s my price?”
Not being able to help myself, I chuckle at his words then bite back with, “Your death,” with as much venom as I can muster.
Then he steps out of the shower, his black button-up shirt now clinging to him like a second skin. The lines beneath show me just how fit he is underneath it all.
“Joey will come to collect you tomorrow.” I’m surprised by his words. “You are working for the boss’ wife, so best behavior. I would hate to have to kill you so early.” He heads to the door. I’m stunned by his words, but I’m excited to start something new.
“Lucas.” He glances back over his shoulder, and I lean through the open glass door to continue, my hair dripping onto the linoleum. “Go… fuck off and die in a damn ditch somewhere.”
“See, it’s the sweet words like that, that keep me coming back, sugar.” He winks before he walks out and shuts the door behind him.
Argh. Stepping out, I dry myself and manage to find my pajamas before I slide them on and walk out to where I find Brody counting money on the couch, which is now back in place.
He looks up at me and smiles.
“Lucas paid me and gave me a bonus for awesome work.” He shakes the money in the air.
“You should burn it,” I say as I go into our small, dingy kitchen and open the fridge to find it bare.
Shit.
I’m literally starving.
A knock sounds on the door, and I stand there afraid of who or what could be on the other side. Brody looks back at me as he reaches for the knob, and I grab a knife in the kitchen just as he pulls it open.
“From Lucas.” I don’t see the man behind the voice, but Brody nods and turns to me with a bag in his hand. When he shuts the door, I smell food. Sweet, glorious Italian food. I move around him to lock the door—for all the good it does—then reach for the bag. Inside of it is my shitty cell and some pasta. I love pasta. Carbonara is my weakness.