Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Someone to reconnect her puzzle pieces.
I’m not that man. I’m not loving and I’m not gentle. If she lets me, I’ll take everything she has to offer and I’ll be greedy for more.
If this girl were smart, she’d run the hell away.
“All right, Peter,” she says quietly and bites her thumbnail. “I can agree to all that. But I have my own terms.”
“And what are they?”
“No more hiding things from me. No more kid gloves. No more tip-toeing around. If I’m going to be involved, I’m your partner. I want to know what’s going on. And I want to get paid.”
“Done. No secrets between us, baby girl. And let’s say five thousand per week to start, but I’ll make sure you earn it.”
She turns away and I admire her neck, her strong back, the slope of her shoulders. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
“Only if you’re smart.”
She walks away and disappears down the hall back to her room. I watch her go, wondering how the hell I’m going to survive this, and whether or not she’s going to make it to the other side with me.
Chapter 6
Adrienne
The club’s music is loud and pounding. The bouncers lift the red rope and let me and Peter pass without more than a cursory glance and a curious stare. The other people waiting outside shout in Greek and I have to assume they’re cursing at the bouncer for letting us cut in line, but I push them out of my mind. It’s not like I can understand them anyway.
Peter’s wearing a sleek black suit and he looks like a man that knows his way around a club like this. Loafers, no tie, tattoos peeking out from every inch of his skin, his dark hair slicked back, his intense eyes roaming. There’s a bulge in his waistband and I know it’s a gun. I cling to his arm, feeling his muscle, if only to make sure we’re not separated in the crowd. I don’t want to touch him like this, but he made it clear that I’m to act like his date tonight.
“Stay close,” he says, putting one hand on the small of my back and speaking into my ear. “This is Balaska’s place.”
“Isn’t he on our side?”
His smile suggests I have a lot to learn.
I follow him through the laughing women and the leering, grinning men. I’m in heels, a tight black skirt, and a white top covered with black lace. I’m showing way more skin than I’m used to, but for some reason, in the low light of the club, I feel like it’s camouflage. I fit in with all the other girls out looking to party, normal girls with normal wants and needs, girls that aren’t battered and bruised. My makeup does a good job of making the worst of my injuries invisible, and the poor lighting does the rest.
Peter steers us to the VIP area. We’re led through a short hall, up a staircase, and onto a balcony that overlooks the dance floor. We’re tucked back in the corner, close enough to the DJ that I can see what he’s spinning, but behind the speakers which means we’re in the quietest part of the whole building. The noise pumps out toward the dancing, twisting, writhing bodies down below.
Balaska is sitting with several men. Bottles of champagne and liquor cover the table. They stand and greet Peter and I’m left off behind them, feeling uncomfortable until a woman steps out from the shadows and pushes a glass into my hand.
“Hello, darling.” Katarin smiles at me. “I didn’t expect you.”
“Peter brought me along. He didn’t mention you’d be here.”
“Strange, that he’d bring you to this.” She gestures at the men as they settle onto the couch. Peter holds up a glass of liquor, toasts Balaska, and tosses it back. “Did he tell you what they’re talking about?”
“I know the basic shape of it.”
“I bet you do,” she murmurs. “Come stand with me.” She moves off to the side and leans against the balcony railing. I sip the champagne, and the bubbles tickle my nose and the alcohol spreads like a warmth in my veins. “This is what I do when my husband brings business to the club. I stand here, smile, look pretty, drink far too much, and try to pretend like I’m happy. How am I doing?” She flashes me an easy smile and I can almost believe she means it.
“You’re good at all of those things. Especially the looking pretty part.” She laughs and flips her hair back dramatically. I’m not kidding though—Katarin is a knockout in a simple burgundy dress and enough jewelry to bribe an entire police precinct.
“Really, Adrienne, why did Peter bring you tonight?”
I shrug slightly, feeling uncomfortable, but I might as well get this conversation over with. “I’m working for him.”