She snickers. “I can’t disagree.” Of course not, because she finally wised up and left him. She already figured out what a waste he is before ever hearing about the offer he made. Now? There’s no doubt n her mind.
I spread my arms in a shrug. “But a deal is a deal. I’ll be using you to make back what I’m owed.”
“What?” It comes out sharp, like a gunshot.
“I think you heard me. My family owns a number of establishments through which women like yourself offer their time, companionship, and pussy to men willing to pay for the three. I know you’re familiar with that line of work, so don’t give me the innocent act.”
She doesn’t. In fact, her expression hasn’t shifted an inch. Her clear, glittering eyes haven’t moved from my face. How much did Greg put her through that she can pretend this way?
Unless she’s that weary. That broken by life. Seems a shame, a girl this young and this exceptionally gorgeous to be broken. Like a shell-shocked refugee.
Except for those eyes. Instead of wide and blank, they’re full of life. So much so that I can’t help but stir in my pants, like part of me wants to figure out why she knocked me off my feet the way she did.
“You want me to live in a brothel? So I can pay back Greg’s debt?”
“It’s more like a hotel, but yes. That’s exactly what you’ll do. Your every move will be observed—and reported on if you break the rules. From now until the debt is repaid, you belong to me.”
Her brow furrows in a frown. “I’m a human being. How can I belong to you?”
Interesting. Of all the possible responses, this is one I never counted on. “Because I say so. Because I could snap my fingers and you’d be dead on this floor before you took another breath. Because this is the way the world works. You should’ve dated somebody with a bit more character if you wanted to avoid getting into a situation like this.”
She bites her lip before remembering her water, gulping most of it down before lowering the glass to her leg again. “And I only have to do it until the debt is repaid?”
My head snaps back before tipping to the side as I study her. Not physically, not this time. I can’t get a read on this woman, which is unusual to say the least. I imagined she was broken, but now I’m wondering how much intelligence lives in that head of hers. Under all that thick, luscious hair a man could bury his hands in and—
I tighten my fists in plain view in case she’s unsure who she’s dealing with. “You’ll do it until I say you’re finished. You will stop no sooner than that.”
“And I have no say in this? It doesn’t matter who you want me to screw, I have to do it?”
“That’s generally the way it works. If it makes you feel better, this isn’t your average, everyday prostitution ring. Our clients are discerning, and we don’t allow just anyone to walk in off the street and take their pick. It’s more of a member’s club than what you might have in mind.”
“I see.” I have the sense she’s arguing with herself, or trying to work something out in her head. I can’t imagine what—she doesn’t exactly have a choice in this.
“And you’ll have all the new clothes you need. I’m sure it’s been a while since you had to dress up for your clients.” And because I can’t help myself, “I doubt Greg took you on many expensive dates.”
“It would’ve meant having less money to gamble with.”
“No doubt.” She’s taking this pretty well, all things considered. I guess it would be unreasonable to expect her to simply fall in line. “I appreciate you understanding the situation and what has to be done. I was hoping you would accept this without a bunch of drama or emotion.”
“I can’t afford that.”
“Neither can I.” Damn, she is something. Rarely do I venture outside my rigid social circle when looking to get laid—a man in my position can’t afford to take chances—but she’s enough to make me wonder if slumming is the way to go. The girl’s obviously poor, probably grew up in some shithole with parents who couldn’t be bothered.
Yet she’s smart. Tough. Nothing like the whimpering girl I would’ve been unsurprised to meet. She’s the sort of person I wouldn’t mind getting to know, which is saying a hell of a lot since I rarely want to know more about a woman than whether she’s good on her knees.
I want to know what makes her tick. How she got to be who she is. And who crushed her spirit enough to make her think she couldn’t do better than a loser like her ex.
Get it together.
She moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue and I have to suppress a groan. Everything about her sings to me, entices me, makes me want more. “There’s nothing else I can do? I mean, like, a job somewhere else? Answering phones, booking appointments? That kind of thing?”
“No. This is where you’re going to make the most money, and it’s where I want you. There’s no room for negotiation here.”
She pulls in a deep breath. “Would it matter if I told you he stole the money from me? The money he used to place those bets—plus a lot more besides? I worked hard for it. That money was my future. I’m getting screwed both ways here, by him and by you.”
I watched my best friend die today. I’m the man who ordered his assassination. I felt nothing beyond disgust and betrayal.
Yet here I am, regretting this situation. I have no doubt Greg stole the money. He’s the type who’d do it.