by M Never
I’m nearly climbing the walls of the limo as I wait. The minutes ticking by like hours.
When my phone finally rings, I jump so high I hit my head on the ceiling.
“Jett!” Kayne snaps. “Why the fuck would you bring him here?”
“He whipped out a knife and demanded that I take him wherever you were. Bit mistrusting, don’t you think?”
“Coming in a day early unannounced? Nah. Why didn’t you let me know he was here before you picked him up?”
Is he serious right now? “I called and text, shithead.”
I hear Kayne growl distantly through the receiver. “We have a situation.”
Ya think?
“Meet me out front. I sent Javier back in the Maserati,” he informs me agitatedly.
“Oh, that was smart. I wonder what kind of trouble he can get into with that,” I patronize. The man has been here for all of an hour and already things are going haywire.
“He’d better not get in any. It’s risky enough he’s on American soil.”
“True,” I agree. “So what’s the situation?”
“Ellie.”
“Ellie? The girl you’ve been obsessing over?”
“I haven’t been obsessing!” Kayne erupts.
“Mmmhmm,” I respond snidely. “She rejected you? Need some ice cream?”
“No, cocksucker. Javier. He wants her. I made an executive decision.”
“Oh, no. Kayne, you and executive decisions are never good,” I fret.
“Yeah, well, it was either that or let Javier get his sadistic hands on her. And like hell I was going to let that happen. You have any stuff stashed?”
“Yes,” I reluctantly tell him. I always keep a little insurance policy in the back just in case sticky situations arise.
“Good.”
Kayne hops into the limo before I barely hit the brakes.
“Go around to the back alley. Where’s the stuff?”
“Under the ice bin,” I direct him, looking straight ahead. I spy through the rearview mirror as he pulls out the silver bucket, grabs one of the little white pills, and dissolves it in a glass of champagne. When I pull into the alley, the silhouette of a woman illuminates in the headlights. I glance back at Kayne, suddenly worried. What is this fucking idiot up to?
I get out and open the door for her, dutifully playing my part. This is the first time I’ve ever seen the infamous Ellie up close. She’s an adorable little ball of energy with long, golden brown hair and big, bright green eyes. She smiles up at me coyly as she slides in next to Kayne. I immediately feel sorry for the sweet little naïve thing who has no idea about the deceit awaiting her in the back of that limo.
Fatigued, I climb into the driver’s seat and catch the reflection of Kayne mauling Ellie. That’s new for him.
I observe quietly as he encourages her to finish her champagne. Bottoms up. Rocks form in my stomach.
We barely get out of the city before she’s limp in his arms, the roofie almost immediately working its magic.
There’s a resounding silence in the car as he cradles her protectively and strokes her cheek. Who the hell is this man? The Kayne I know is clearly absent. I’ve never, ever seen him handle a woman with such care. With such, dare I even say it, emotion.
“Now what, evil mastermind?” I ask, conflicted. Just about everything I stand for has been violated tonight, but something inexplicable has happened to Kayne between the time he left the house and right now. Something I’d always hoped for but never expected.
“Now . . .” He dotes on her. “We come up with a plan.”
Bloody.
Fucking.
Hell.
JETT DEFINITELY STRUCK A NERVE. I feel guilty for getting mad at him, but when he asked what else would make me happy, and what more I want out of life, it felt like he stabbed me square in the heart. A direct fucking hit. More doesn’t apply to my life. Barely surviving does. Flying under the radar just to see another day. That’s my reality.
How could I confess what I really want when my simple dreams mean nothing. When more is nothing but a fleeting wish. More is meant for other people. Normal people. Not people like me. Damaged, abused, shredded, a whore. A woman used beyond repair. Who would want to be with someone like that? Who would want to love, or marry, or have a family with a disgraceful, polluted woman like that?
No one, that’s who. Because that’s exactly what I am. No one.
Nothing.
Undeserving of being anything more than a high-class slut for hire.
“London,” Amber snaps.
“Huh?”
“Can you hand me that pink lipstick? I’ve asked you like four times. Where’s your head?” She looks at me dumbfounded through the illuminated vanity mirror.
“Sorry.” I robotically grab the tube of Dior lipstick and hand it over.
“Daydreaming about Jett?” she pesters me as she sensuously rings her plump lips in a warm pink hue.
“Why would you ask that?” I scoff.
Not that her accusation is far off. I was daydreaming about Jett, just not in the way that she thinks.
“Because you’re Jett’s girlfriend.”
“Are you being serious right now? That’s absurd.”
“No, it’s not. We all see it. He’s never been so smitten with a woman until you. Trust me, I know. I’ve been here a long time.”
“Smitten? Did you really just accuse Jett of being smitten? That man and that word are on opposite ends of the earth. It’s almost comical to hear.”
“You wear denial as well as you wear that corset,” she accuses.
“Jett and I are nothing. He likes to fuck me. That’s all.” I stand my ground.
Amber pins me with huge, brown, bullshit eyes. “He does not like to just fuck you. He likes to be around you. I see the way he looks at you. The way he stalks around when you’re with a client. None of us have ever spent as many nights in his bed as you have. Mutual feelings or not, that man has got it bad.”
I don’t know whether her blatant observation angers me or elates me. Maybe a little of both.
“Well, if we’re on the subject of smitten men, Alistair is right up there with Jett.” I go on the offensive.
Amber’s face falls. “The last thing Alistair is is smitten.”
“Well, he’s definitely something. The whole house heard you two fucking all night. He sounded pretty taken if you ask me.”
Amber sighs, it’s a mixture between sadness and frustration. “I’m surprised a working girl like you doesn’t know the difference between smitten and plain old horny. There aren’t any feelings there. Trust me. I thought maybe there were, but I was dead wrong. He sees me as one thing. A sex toy.” She drops her eyes, attempting to mask her disappointment. “That’s all I’ll ever be while I live in this house.”
“You aren’t the only one. We’re all seen the same way.”
“London don’t be stupid. Jett doesn’t see you as just another ‘girl.’ If you have a chance with him, take it. Jump on it, grab hold with both hands, and run like hell. He’s a good man. The best. And he could be your ticket to a way better life. I know I’m weighing my options and looking for mine.” The affliction in her voice is potent. I wish I could make her understand. Even if Jett does have genuine feelings for me, nothing could ever come of it. I could never give him anything more than what I already am. There’s a line I just can’t cross. For everyone’s sake. Especially my own.
“Ladies!” Jett announces as he enters backstage without even so much as a knock. He draws all attention to him as he takes his place in the middle of the room, standing there like the ringmaster he is, about to direct his company of performers. Eight concupiscent girls trained to put on an X-rated show.
“If you weren’t already aware, Kayne and I have a very important guest staying in the house.”
He pauses, like the next sentence gets stuck in his throat. I think I’m the only one who notices, though. “Please be the hospitable little
house kittens I employ you to be. Tend to whatever Javier needs.” He swallows thickly. “Other than that, I’m happy to see you’re all ready for the social. We have some new potential members coming tonight, so make sure to turn on the sexy and show them a good time they’ll never forget.” He claps twice, initiating the night. Amber and I both finish our last-minute primping before following the other girls.
Jett stands at the door dressed impeccably in a dark purple dress shirt and watches as we one by one file out of the room. Amber and I are the last in line. She winks back at me as she sashays past Jett in her skimpy lace bodysuit and sky-high heels.
I avert my gaze, ashamed to even look at him after the bratty way I acted. If Amber is right, and he does have feelings, he’s probably seriously reconsidering them after last night.
“Hey.” Jett snatches my arm before I even cross the threshold of the doorway. I slide my eyes up to meet his. There’s a hot temperament in his glare. “For the record, I would let you go, no arguments, no questions asked,” he decrees. “But I really don’t want you to leave . . . me.”
My breath catches on “me.”
“I don’t want to leave . . . you, either.”
Fuck, I really just said that out loud, didn’t I? I must be crazy. I shouldn’t open this door because there’s no telling what perilous place it will lead. My situation is more dangerous than anyone knows. More dangerous than I dare let on. My past is a poison, a toxicity, and the last thing I would ever want is for it to contaminate the lives of the people I care about. Jett, Amber, Jenna, even Kayne and all his grouchiness.
What would happen if the truth came out? What would happen if I was found?
“You don’t know what hearing that does to me.” Jett pushes me up against the doorframe and runs the tip of his nose teasingly along my neck. “You smell so good,” he murmurs, transfixed. “No one but me is going to touch you tonight. They can all look, all want, but none of them can have.”
His authority is such a turn-on. I’ve never liked to be claimed, but when Jett does it, when he asserts his dominance, I feel like a coveted person, not a possession. He makes me feel like a woman. Makes me appreciate my feminine, sensual, and virile side the way God intended.
“I look forward to you touching me tonight,” I hum seductively in his ear. Jett shivers.
“I’m going to do so much more than just touch you.” He matches my tone while upping the ante. “Now go.”
I tauntingly caress the erection protruding in his dress pants before I saunter away, deploying every feminine wile I possess in order to make him drool.
Amber was wrong; Jett isn’t the one who’s smitten. I am. For the very first time in my life, I have feelings for a man.
I walk down the grand foyer stairs like they’re puffier than a cloud. I’ve never felt so weightless before. There’s no pressure tonight, only delicious anticipation.
Jett went all out to impress the potential new clients, decking out the party room to the nines. Butlers with white gloves pass champagne around a large square caviar bar. The fireplace is roaring, and seductive music is playing in the background. I recognize the song. It’s one of Jenna’s favorites, “Gold” by Kiiara.
I work the room, conversing with some clients I already know and some looking to get on Jett’s short list, smiling, laughing and flirting as freely as I ever have. A few men proposition me right on the spot, but I inform them they have to go directly through Jett for a session with me. Immediately after that day in Jett’s office, my status changed, and I soon came to understand what he meant by “elite.”
Time passes, but Kayne and Jett are nowhere to be found, which is very odd. Usually one, if not both, watch over these socials like a hawk. Alistair has been parked in a corner all night. Talk about a hawk—he hasn’t peeled his eyes off Amber once. Not for a second. That doesn’t seem like a man who’s uninterested to me. If anything, he’s overly interested. Invested even. I don’t know Alistair very well. Although we have had a few casual conversations, I can’t say I’m a huge fan. As polite as he is, he has that persona. That overly dominant man. Whenever I’m near him, my skin prickles. He’s built like my Master, minus the accent and the asshole attitude.
Amber seems to know exactly how to press his buttons, coming on strong with every single man in her path just to piss Alistair off. She’s fully aware he’s staring, too.
I bump into someone as I take a step back. “Excuse me.” I try to turn around, but strong hands trap my waist.
“I had to see for myself if the rumors were true,” a chilling voice rasps in my ear. “That a beautiful redhead was making waves in the upscale sex industry.” His grasp gets tighter, his fingernails digging painfully into my hipbones. “You were missed, Raggedy Ann.” I shudder from the use of my revolting pet name, and how it fits me perfectly. “He’ll be so happy I finally found you.” The walking nightmare tries to push me, but I freeze in place.
“Let’s go. Quietly,” he threatens.
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Silas,” I hiss. “I’ll die before I go back to him.”
“Trust me. Once you’re back home, you’re going to wish for death.”
I tremble in his grasp as horrid images of the past flood my memories.
I scan the room frantically looking for Jett or Kayne. Neither are anywhere to be found. My heart beats harder, and my fear balloons as I’m faced with being forced to return to the place I fled from. Escaped from. My eyes land on Alistair—who’s watching Silas and me closely. I want to scream for help, but I know that could lead to a fatal outcome. I can feel the gun holstered in his pants digging into my back.
“Don’t make a scene, London.” My name on Silas’s lips burns like battery acid, searing every old wound.
I can’t go back. I won’t go back.
My fight or flight instincts instantly kick in, and without even thinking, I stab my high heel into Silas’s foot. He barks in pain and momentarily loosens his grip. That’s when I bolt, purposely knocking into a waiter, sending his stacked tray of champagne flutes crashing to the floor. Hopefully, that will cause enough of a distraction for me to flee. I kick off my shoes and run. Past the other girls, Alistair, a host of Mansion’s clients, and Kayne and Jett who are just making their way into the room.
“HE KIDNAPPED HER!” JUICE CHEWS me out over the earpiece. “Are the two of you smoking crack?”
“She was in danger. He made an executive decision.” I attempt to defend Kayne as I blast a bad guy. Sometimes I wish it was this easy to eradicate the enemy. Just pick up an M16 and blow the motherfuckers away.
“An executive decision? She’s a liability now. Jett, you know that!” Juice clearly doesn’t share our view on Ellie’s predicament.
“She’s an innocent. And it’s our job to protect her.”
“You could have sent her to a safe house. We could have protected her without jeopardizing the whole mission!”
“Kayne says that would have looked too suspicious. He wanted to keep her close.”
Juice sighs, crazed. “Well you better hope he keeps her in his goddamn pocket. When the police come sniffing around, what’s going to happen then? Kayne was the last person she was seen with.”
“That’s what we have you for. Make it go away.”
“What am I, a fucking magician now? Alakazam,” he snaps, perturbed.
“I believe we know people in high places. Make a call. Keep the cops away. We’ll handle the rest.”
“You better do fucking more than handle it. You better run shit, Jett. This operation can’t go south.”
“It won’t. Do your job, and I’ll do mine. And everything will be fine.” I hope. Pray.
“No more bullshit, understand? I don’t want to clean up anymore messes until I absolutely have to.”
Translation: Don’t bother me until you have El Rey in your grasp.
“Roger that.”
No more messes. Got it.
Good little boys and girls from now on. Scouts
honor.
“Over and out.” Juice signs off.
I toss the controller and rock restlessly in the gaming chair up to my eyeballs in stress. No more messes.
I glance at my watch, realizing I’ve been gone way longer than I intended.
Time to get back to business.
I WON’T STOP.
Not even when Jett calls after me. I’ll never stop until I’m gone. Until I disappear.
I fly toward the back of the house, into the service kitchen. I almost make it out the hidden doorway before Jett snags my arm.
“What the hell just happened? Where are you going?” His questions hit me like bullets. I have no answers, only painful regret and overwhelming fear. I tug on my arm, desperate to break free.
“Jett, I’m sorry,” I apologize frantically.
“For what?”
“This.” I knee him square in the balls, and he drops to the floor.
“Sonofabitch!”
Wracked with guilt, I disappear through the doorway that spits me out on a long narrow path leading to the backyard. I’ve explored this house enough to know where all the secret passages and alternate exits are.
Once I finally reach the edge of the house’s vast lawn, I head for the trees on the perimeter of the property. It’s dark but warm, and the full moon provides just enough silvery light to allow me to see.
Run, just run. Never stop running.
Panicky tears stream down my face, my leg muscles scream, and my lungs burn from the physical exertion, but I can’t stop. The extensive lawn seems to go on forever, the thick grass cold and wet under my bare feet.
I suddenly hear heavy breathing and weighted steps behind me. Terrified, I push my legs to move faster and my lungs to pump harder.
Run, just run. Never stop running.
“London!” My name echoes through the darkness, but I refuse to slow down. I won’t go back. I’ll never go back.
I barely reach the edge of the woods before I’m tackled to the ground.
“NO!” I screech, punching and kicking, unleashing my strongest fight.
“London, London, LONDON!” I’m finally overpowered and pinned down.
