Page 36 of Torrid (Sordid 2)

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“Why would I?” she shot back. “It’s only my third shower in less than twenty-four hours.”

I ignored her quip and left her to it. I went downstairs and found Amit sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone and a drink in his hand. Good. Alek was taking care of him. Amit was particular. If he wasn’t treated right, he’d go straight to my uncle.

I explained what I was looking for, and then we made small talk until I heard the pipes overhead go quiet. Her shower was over. I motioned to the stairs. “Sounds like she’s ready.”

I pushed the bedroom door open without a knock, because it was my house and I owned everything in it, and she turned to face us. Like last night, her hair had been twisted back in a messy bun and wasn’t wet. And once again, I admired the way she looked wrapped up in my robe, but I didn’t get to focus on it for long. Her face was coated in fear at the short Indian man at my side, who was at least thirty years old than either of us.

“Oksana, this is Amit. He’s a doctor.”

She backpedaled until she reached the bedpost. It was mostly hidden by the sides of the robe, but she wrapped a hand around it and clutched it for support. Her chaotic eyes darted from him to me. “I’m not sick.”

“Great,” I said. “That means it’ll be a short visit.”

Amit carried his leather bag into the room and set it on the bed, but Oksana skittered away. There was nowhere for her to go, because I stood in the doorway and blocked her in.

“Relax,” I ordered. “Amit examines every girl who . . . gets involved in the business.”

“All of your whores,” she said.

I shrugged, because what was there to say?

She watched as he pulled a blood pressure cuff out of the bag, followed by a stethoscope, but it did nothing to soothe her nerves. Anxiety rolled off her in waves.

“It’s all right, miss,” Amit said softly. “I’m only going to make sure you are healthy. It will just take a few minutes.”

Or a lot longer if she fought me on this. I was really hoping to avoid calling Alek up here to help me hold her still. That’d make everything more difficult, and I didn’t want him to see her when she was fucking naked. Amit I could tolerate. He was a doctor.

“Oksana.” She’d been obedient up until now, but I sensed this was her breaking point. “He’s not going to hurt you.” I weighted my voice, even though she was smart and had no reason to trust me. “You have my word.”

Her shoulders were so tense, they were practically up to her ears. Her expression was both icy cold and fiery rage, and I watched her hands curl into tight, white-knuckled balls. A deep breath was drawn in, and blown out slowly as her eyes closed. “If I do this, I want something in return.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Like, two grand worth of clothes?”

Her eyes popped open and zeroed in on me. “Hire someone to tune the piano.”

A half of a laugh erupted from me, but she didn’t smile, and I sobered. “Oh, shit, you’re serious? No.”

“Why not?”

Because bringing strangers into my house was dangerous. I could literally be inviting the FBI inside and offering them a million places to stick a surveillance device. This was my safe haven. The only place I could truly be me.

Amit chose that very fucking moment to pull the rest of his shit out of the bag and lay it on the bed. Latex gloves, an alcohol swab packet, a packaged syringe . . . and an ampule. Oksana gasped like I’d slammed my fist into her stomach and her accusatory glare cut right through me.

She thought I was going to drug her.

“That’s not what you think,” I said quickly. “It’s so I don’t knock you up.”

Her blue eyes looked at me like I was a piece of shit, and I didn’t blame her for the reaction. I’d told her if she left me and went to the Russians, they’d pump her full of drugs. To her, it sure as shit looked like that was what I planned to do.

I grimaced. “Okay, fine. I’ll get someone to fix the fucking piano. All right?”

It was ridiculous I was negotiating with her. The girls at Mira’s didn’t have a problem with Amit. Actually, they loved the guy and teased him ruthlessly.

Oksana glared at him, still clearly full of suspicion. “That’s birth control you’re planning on injecting me with?”

He nodded. “If you are healthy and have good blood pressure, then yes, miss.”

A reluctant decision was made, and her shoulders slumped. “Fine. Let’s get it over with.”

I grasped the doorknob and began to back out of the room—


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