Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
My hair was perfectly curled, hanging around my shoulders in big, loose ringlets that framed my face well. I’d perfected it over the years, knowing exactly how to style it so I showed off my features the best I could.
My make-up may as well have been applied by a professional. My slick, dark pink lip followed the curves of my mouth, while my bright-blue eyes were extenuated by the darkness of the smoky powder on my lids and jet-black mascara curling my lashes.
I stood, pushing the skirt of my dress down. Falling to mid-thigh, the floaty skirt highlighted my curves in a way I knew would tempt any red-blooded man to look my way at the very least.
If only I wasn’t so hollow inside, I might actually think I looked beautiful. As it was, I was nothing more than a plaything to whoever picked me up tonight.
I was an expensive plaything, but a plaything all the same.
I swallowed that feeling and slipped my feet into a pair of heels. There was a way out this life, I knew that, but there were so many bridges to cross. A hateful family and a father who wasn’t really my father were my obstacles—ones I would probably never be able to get past.
I’d made my bed when I got pregnant, and their insistences upon an abortion I refused to have was when I laid in that bed.
This was my life. I accepted it—I had no choice.
I’d given myself no choice.
I went downstairs, locked the door, and got into my car. Thinking about the ‘why’ always got me. Why did I do this? Why had my life gone this way? Why was I allowing it? Why couldn’t I do better?
Maybe one day I would understand that the ‘why’ didn’t matter. I was here, and it was my job, and I had to get on with it. No matter how badly I wanted to change things, unless someone was willing to take that chance on me, there was nothing I could do about it.
Not a damn thing.
Chapter Two
Perrie
The smoky air of casino surrounded me within minutes of me stepping inside it. It was thick and choking, but it was almost normal to me now. Sure, I’d need to scrub it off my skin when I got home, but that was my routine anyway. It’d just need a little more washing to get rid of the smell.
I ordered my drink at the bar and looked around the room while I waited. The smoke wasn’t as thick here, so now only could I breathe again, but everything was clearer.
Scanning the men sitting alone, I picked out the three who looked as though they would be the easiest targets. One of them I recognized, but the other two just had that look.
They glanced around constantly, almost as if they were looking for someone to catch them doing something they shouldn’t be.
Those were the ones looking for someone like me.
“One strawberry margarita. Fifteen bucks.” The bored-sounded bartender slid a red margarita toward me.
“Virgin?” I asked pointing to it.
He stared at me. “No.”
“I asked for a virgin one.”
He sighed heavily, taking the glass back. I rolled my eyes and leaned against the bar when he turned around. There was nothing like manners, was there?
I tapped my fingers against the bar so he knew I wasn’t happy and focused my attention on a man sitting a few feet away from me at a blackjack table. He looked antsy, and he kept glancing at me like a piece of meat.
The next time he caught my eye, I smiled.
He paused, holding my gaze for a second too long before turning away.
“One virgin strawberry margarita,” the bartender said, shoving it toward me.
“Are you sure?”
“Take a sip and find out,” he said dryly.
I did just that. No tequila. “Perfect. It’d be better served without the attitude, though.” I set my purse on the top of the bar and pulled out my wallet. “How much?”
“Fifteen dollars.”
“Are you in the habit of charging the same for non-alcoholic drinks as you do for alcoholic ones?”
“Fifteen dollars, ma’am.”
“The drinks menu at the end of the bar says twelve,” a deep, husky voice said from beside me. “And this is on me. I’ll have a Coors, when you’re ready.”
I swivelled around and the second I laid eyes on the person the voice belonged to, I stilled.
He wasn’t like the guys who usually bought me drinks, that much was for sure.
He had dark hair cut close to his head, and a thick stubble of the same color coated his strong jaw, breaking way for thick, full, pink lips that were currently pursed in mild annoyance. His eyes were a stunning blue with a hint of green at the edges of his irises, and the dark lashes that framed his eyes only served to accentuate the brightness of them.