Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 130048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“Let me go, you bastard!”
“I’ll let you go the moment you agree to stand there, nicely, and stop drawing attention to us.” The guy curled his hand around Sam’s neck, squeezing until Sam’s fingers dropped away from mine. “Ne m’oblige pas à te faire du mal.”
“I don’t speak French, you motherfucker,” Sam snarled.
“I said…don’t make me hurt you. It’s not you I’m after.”
“Wait…what?” I swallowed hard, rubbing my throat from Sam’s grab as the man’s grey stare locked on mine. Every tingle, every awareness turned into little bolts of panic. “What do you mean?”
Shoving Sam away from him, the guy moved far too quick for me to run in my second-hand silver ankle boots.
“It’s you I’m after,” the man murmured, decadently, dangerously.
“Me?” I squeaked.
His fingers clamped on my shoulder, pinning me in place. Fire scorched through my veins from his pinching fingertips.
“Yes, you.”
My heart winged with terror.
We both faced Sam, me silently begging him to order the guy to let me go, all while the man smirked, knowing he’d already won.
“Samuel…” I said quietly, calmly. “I think it’s time for both of us to go, don’t you? This night hasn’t exactly turned out the way we thought it would, but I’m sure we can agree that—”
“Quiet, Illness,” Sam snapped, studying me, studying where the man held me, and studying the envelope of money on the bar. I had front-row seats to the horrible decision floating in his eyes. Revenge and fury and a shit-ton of pettiness drowned out whatever goodness was left inside him.
Oh no…
“Sam. Don’t. Whatever you’re thinking…don’t.” I rushed, “Look, I’m sorry for tonight. I’m sorry for the things I said. You can keep all my stuff in our apartment. Tell this bastard to let go of me, and I’ll leave right now. You’ll never see me again. Just like you wanted.”
Sam licked his bottom lip and looked at the stranger. “Tell me.” He fondled the money, flipping through the tight stack of notes. “I’m listening.”
The guy’s fingers bruised my shoulder as he chuckled under his breath, almost as if talking to himself. “All of us. Every man on this planet is nothing more than a beast when faced with right and wrong.”
“What?” Sam frowned. “What did you say?”
The guy shook his head, then straightened to his full terrifying height. “The cash is yours in return for one thing.”
“Sam…” My heart pounded, suffocating under the violence and desperate greed suddenly bleeding off the bastard holding me. The longer he held me captive, the more his voice deepened; his scent grew stronger as if he sweated beneath his impeccable suit. A heady aroma of leather and lemongrass, musk and sandalwood.
Trying to clear my lungs and inhale the stench of stale alcohol and cheap perfume from the hundreds of other people in the club, I demanded, “Enough, Sam. I want to go back to the hotel.”
“Shut up.” Sam waved the money in my face. “Have you forgotten so quickly? You’re going to the train station, not our hotel. But not before I hear our new friend’s offer.” Grinning, he added, “You were saying? The cash in return for one thing?”
“In return for her.”
“Her?” Sam’s eyebrows came down. Not in a possessive frown but in calculating consideration. “What exactly do you want from her?”
“Doesn’t really matter, does it? All you need to know is, I want her. I’m willing to pay for her—”
“Now, just hold on a damn minute,” I shouted, my stomach nosediving to my toes as I squirmed unsuccessfully under the guy’s pinching hand. “You can’t just buy me. Who the hell do you think you are?” I glanced around for support. For one of the bartenders to call the cops. For other dancers to step in and stop this insanity.
But the crowded bar was eerily abandoned. A velvet rope had been erected, cutting us off from the writhing mass of gyrating bodies, all hypnotised by louder-than normal music and blinded by deliberate darkness.
“Sam!” I fought harder, but the guy merely dragged his hold down my arm and latched unescapable fingers around my wrist.
Sam watched the guy manhandle me.
He watched and deliberated and did nothing.
“I’m not for sale!” I yelled.
“That’s not for you to decide,” the man murmured, his sinful rasp slipping into my ears.
I tried to stomp on his foot with my silver heels. “Let go of me!”
“Not before your boyfriend makes up his damn mind.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. Not anymore—”
“Perhaps if he was, he wouldn’t be contemplating selling you.”
“Samuel!” I snapped. “Give this bastard back his money and—”
“When you say you want her…want her how?” Sam interrupted, tapping the money in his hands. “You want to stick your dick in her and get your rocks off, is that it?”
“Oh my God, I’m going to be sick.” I jerked and struggled, scratching at the man’s hand where he held me. “I don’t care what he wants. He’s not getting anything!”