Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I need her gone.
I throw the door open, and she jumps. “That I may be, pet, but I’m an asshole who has no room for the plain likes of you. Just as you said, your unlikeliness to survive one night in this club is the reason why applying would be nonsense. Go home, back to your pampered life. Return to whoever allowed you to borrow their dress, which looks horrendous on you, and forget about your silly dare. You’ve wasted enough of my time. Out.”
My words are harsh, but they do the job. I’ve driven her mute. If she’s smart, she’ll stay that way and leave my office. At least read the cold look on my face. No one, even a child like herself, insults me in my own club.
“You can try to offend me all you want, I don’t give a shit. Trust me, you aren’t anything to call home about either.”
I laugh. “I’m deeply wounded, but I haven’t gotten to where I am by being nothing to call home about.”
“Well, you disgust me.” She crosses her arms over her chest, making her breasts more appealing.
“Noted. Out you go.” I place my hand on her back to help her out, but it gets shoved off.
“Do not touch me.”
Strike three. My hand twitches, fighting off the need to grace her ass with a good smack. Teach her a lesson for being so disobedient. “You’re really testing my patience,” I grit out between clenched teeth. “I suggest you leave before I have you escorted out by your hair.”
Her mouth drops instantly. It wasn’t my intention to speak that harshly, but my temper is at its breaking point. If I don’t get her out of my sight, I can’t be responsible for what I might do.
“You know what? With pleasure.” She turns and steps outside my office, spinning back. “Have fun burning in hell, son of Satan.”
“I most certainly will, Ms. Jensen.”
And then my vision of her is cut off by the door slamming in her face. My heart rate picks up, my hands at a small jitter. Lifting my palms, I wipe the stress from my face and walk back to the mirrored window. After a few moments, I see her storm through the crowd, then turn and lift her middle finger to the window. I laugh at her courageousness—which is so unlike me. No one has attempted to speak to me like that in a very long time.
Not three minutes later, a knock sounds as the door opens. “Damien, the girl’s being put in a cab.”
“Good.” I turn away from the window and head toward my desk. “I want to know the location of where she’s dropped off. Then I want to know everything about her.”
“Damien—” Fredrick hesitates, trying to argue, but I cut him off.
“Everything.”
THAT NO GOOD, GRIMY, FULL of himself, jerk.
I shove my foot into my Converse and repeat with the other foot. Saturday night, after being pushed in a cab by one of Satan’s goons, I went back to my dorm room and debated how I was going to tell my best friend she was about to be barred from joining the sisterhood of the she-devils. Why did I have to go all Professor BDSM last night and act like I knew anything about sex clubs? I barely finished reading the Shades of Whatever series, let alone have any knowledge of what goes on in them. And I don’t think those books had anything to do with sex clubs in the first place! Gah!
I grab for my jacket, taking a quick glimpse in the mirror. Today, I feel more myself dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a worn Stone Temple Pilots t-shirt that hangs over my shoulder, exposing my black tank top strap.
I’d love to deny it, but when I got home, I did exactly as he instructed and ripped off that dumb dress and threw it down the hall for whoever lent it to Christine to claim. If she knew what was good for her, she would leave it there too. Not that I cared what that asshole said about me in it. I partially agreed with him. I looked like a fool. Dressed up like a doll in something that was far from the person I was. As I laid in bed debating how to fix the shit storm I got myself into, my thoughts kept going back to him. Every time I tried to sleep, his eyes would haunt me. I can still feel the heat from where his large palm touched my back. See the way his expression turned to stone when I stood up to him. I smile at the way I struck a nerve. Good.
But then I remember the hurtful way he spoke to me. The way he described me. In all its truthful, sad glory. I wanted to take a good swing at him for being so hateful and rude. But he was just speaking the truth. That’s exactly who I was. Plain. Boring. My auburn hair sits flat, unlike that blonde she-devil that has bounce for days. I don’t wear makeup ’cause it most likely wouldn’t help, and I don’t bother too much with my wardrobe because let’s be real, I’m a stick. My mom was a stick. And her mother…