“Glad to hear it,” I say, giving him a forced smile as I sit up in bed. “But I don’t, and I’m sorry to say you only paid for a round one.” I tap my fingers on the headboard, mentally calculating if I have enough time for a shower and a shave before my next client. There’s something about the lunchtime quickie these businessmen savor.
The first warning bell clangs when his eyes begin to narrow. “Is that all this is for you?” he asks in a low voice. “A job?”
I feel my eyes go wide at the utter stupidity of his question.
No, dumbass, I think to myself. I’m here for fun.
Instead, I force a smile.
“Um, hello,” I say. “Are you still in sleepy land? Because before you took a little nap, our roles here were very clear.” I shake my head. “Yes, this is a job, one you’re utterly familiar with because you’ve been a regular client now every week for three weeks.”
“You remembered. You wouldn’t remember if this didn’t mean something to you.”
I never forget details, I never forget dates, and I remember exactly the first interaction we had together. It means literally nothing.
Sometimes, I can’t believe how easy this job is. And other times, like this moment, I wonder if I need my head examined.
I draw in a breath and remind myself of my ultimate goal, my ultimate purpose. This is only for a short time.
I’m here because my sister deserves a better life. I’m here because this is the fastest, most efficient way out of nowhere, and I am not going to back down now.
So when it gets rough, or uncomfortable, or challenging, I remind myself I can do this. I’ve got this. And right now, that means throwing this asshole the hell out of my room.
He isn’t important enough to be one of them.
I’ll stay professional, but firm.
I shake my head and swivel my legs over the side of my bed. “Your time is up. You paid, I delivered. Now excuse me, you have five minutes—”
He grabs the back of my arm and yanks me over toward him back on the bed. Alarm flares in my chest. On instinct, I elbow backward and connect with something hard.
“You bitch!” he hisses, cursing up a blue streak. The momentary distraction gives me enough time to hit the discreet call button I have hidden under my bed. I slam it once, twice, three times, before I’m forced belly-down on the bed, his full weight on top of me.
“Get off!” I scream, but he outweighs me by a good bit, and he’s furious. With a vicious yank, he tears my panties down. Cold terror grips me. Even though I hit the panic button, my mind fast-forwards to what will happen in the next few seconds. He’s going to rape me. He’s going to assault me. He’s going to force his way inside me, and I can’t do a thing to stop him.
Footsteps pound down the hallway, drawing nearer.
“You called someone, didn’t you?” he growls in my ear. “Too late. I locked the door and stole the master key.”
He planned this, then. My God.
“Help!” I scream. “Someone help—”
He shoves my face onto the bed to muffle my screams. I writhe, unable to breathe, and finally manage to steal a breath of air as the voices outside my door carry through.
“It’s locked! Who has the key? We need the key!”
He shoves my legs apart like he knows he’s running out of time and needs to see this through. I throw the weight of my whole body to the side, rocking so hard I jostle him enough that I can roll myself onto the floor. But I don’t make it two steps before he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me back over. Pain ricochets through my skull. I scream.
The sound of metal keys in a lock. The jingle of a doorknob. High-pitched female voices. I scream again as he pushes me over the edge of the bed and forces my legs apart. I sob, wriggling as much as I can beneath him, when I hear a loud whomp against the door. My attacker actually pauses at the sound of a deep male voice.
“Move.”
Another guest? Seconds feel like they last minutes as another loud whomp sounds against the door. It begins to groan.
“What the—”
My face still pushed to the bed, I can’t see anything, I can only hear the sound of wood splintering and worried voices. Suddenly, I’m released. I jerk my head up to see my attacker dangling in the air as if he’s hung by a string. He’s gripped by a huge, larger-than-life, absolutely furious man holding him up in front of him. I hold my breath. Relief floods through me so rapidly I’m dizzy.
Growling like an animal, with one swift move he throws my attacker as if he’s no more than a small animal. My attacker lands with a nauseating crunch against the wall and slumps to the floor.