SEVENTEEN
GRAVE
“No.” I sat in the armchair with my elbow on the armrest, my curled fingers resting against my chin.
The beautiful girl stood in a one-piece bodysuit, the material so sheer that her nipples were like targets. The sexy smile she wore vanished when I rejected her like the smallest pup in the litter.
Jerome nodded for her to leave.
She dropped her arms to her sides and strode off, chock-full of attitude.
The next woman entered the room, beautiful like all the rest, but also ordinary. She barely had a chance to smile before I dismissed her too. “This is all you have, Jerome?” Jerome was basically a pimp for the criminal underworld, but his girls were more than just whores. They were fantasies, commanding top dollar. That was how I found Camille in the first place.
“These are my finest girls, Grave.”
“Really?” I grabbed the drink on the table and downed it. “Then you’re losing your touch.” Booze and cigars weren’t enough to alleviate my frustrations. I had two enemies, one known and the other unknown, and I’d lost the one woman who made sex feel good again. When it came to whores, they were constantly trying to figure out what you wanted rather than just living in the moment. It made the sex robotic at times.
Jerome took the seat beside me. “Better get on one of the dating apps, then.”
A smirk moved on to my face. “Wouldn’t that be fun.”
“A nightmare for them.”
We shared a drink before we went into the main room, an exclusive bar in Paris. Upstairs was a café that served crepes and cappuccinos, but below was a world of pleasure for the criminal underworld. Men sat at the tables with their drinks, and the waitresses behind the counter were all topless. I walked up to the counter and tapped my fingers to get the girl’s attention.
She came to me right away. “The usual?”
“Make it a double.”
“I thought the usual was a triple?” She smiled.
I smiled back.
She poured the drink and slid it to me.
At that moment, a commotion erupted.
“Touch me again and see what happens.” A woman entered the bar in an expensive pea coat. She wore black leggings and booties underneath. With thick dark hair all over her shoulders and down her back, along with full lashes and beautiful red lips, she didn’t look like a waitress or a whore. More like a model.
A man walked behind her, wearing a three-piece suit. “Elise.” He looked ten years older than me and not nearly attractive enough to know a woman like that. He grabbed her by the elbow and tugged her hard. “Elise—”
She struck him so hard the smack made the room go quiet. “What did I just tell you? I said we’re done. Business relationship over. You understand?”
He slowly turned back to her, and the hatred in his eyes reeked of vengeance.
She strutted away. “Jerome, let’s go.”
He left my side immediately, abandoning his drink on the counter, and followed her back into the room from which we’d come.
I turned all the way on my stool to catch a final glimpse of her before she disappeared behind the door.
The man adjusted his cuff links before he walked out of the bar.
Couldn’t stand the humiliation.
“Who was that?” I asked the waitress.
“You heard her name. Elise.” She poured other drinks and set them on a tray so she could deliver them to a table.
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“She’s one of Jerome’s girls. Just at a higher tier, I guess you could say.” She lifted the tray and walked away.
I stared at the door for a few seconds before I made my move. I walked inside and heard their raised voices.
“Do you have any idea what you just did?” Jerome yelled. “He could kill you.”
“Well, I told him my rules, and he chose to break them.”
“Elise, he’s from the Russian mob—”
“It’s your job to protect me, so do it!”
“That’s a bit difficult when you smacked him in front of all the gentlemen in the room.”
“Gentlemen?” She issued a laugh as she stripped off her black coat, revealing a skintight dress underneath that showed a fine ass downstairs and perky tits upstairs. “Assholes. That’s the word you’re looking for.” She walked over to the table where the cigars lay and lit one up before she put it in her mouth.
I was utterly mesmerized.
She hopped on the table, crossed her legs, and took a big puff before she released the cloud of smoke.
Jerome stood there, rubbing the back of his head as he tried to solve his dilemma.
She must have felt my hot stare because she addressed me without looking at me. “What do you want?”
She was a million times sassier than Camille had ever been. I liked it.
I walked over and took the cigar out of her mouth.
Both of her eyebrows rose like she might slap me for the indiscretion.