by Shandi Boyes
The thought alone has me the hardest I’ve ever been. If Alice wasn’t at the end of the hall staring at me as Roxanne is staring at her, I may not have been able to set aside a craving so strong it has me wanting to fall to my knees.
Mercifully, Alice doesn’t just have impeccable timing, she’s a sure-fire knockout. Big brown eyes, glossy blonde hair, and an hourglass figure that could turn over revenue like seconds on a clock if she had the gall to sell herself to more than one client a night. She’s a perfect ten out of ten, and I’m not the only one noticing.
Roxanne could only be greener with envy if she were forced to watch us fuck.
“Don’t make me ask again, Roxanne. I do not like repeating myself.” There’s an urge in my voice I can’t contain. It’s thick and hot and as potent as the blood surging to my cock. It has me listening to the head between my legs instead of the one on my shoulders.
With the grunt of a man with holes in his heart, I shove Roxanne into my room. When she falls onto her knees, the situation goes from bad to worse. She’s in the perfect position to take my dick between her lips, to suck me down as I’ve dreamed about her doing more times than I should have the past twelve months.
I could order her to as threatened earlier tonight or remind her of the pledge she made to be on both my arm and in my bed, but I won’t. She won’t have the look needed to make my ruse authentic if I can’t control myself around her within an hour of us being left alone.
Furthermore, she got one up on me when she noticed Smith had connected the electricity to her apartment. I can’t let her get more leverage because despite what my cock thinks, she’s enemy number one, and it will take more than a roll in the hay to change that.
Chapter Nineteen
Roxanne
I curse at the soap as if it’s my stupid lust-fired brain when it slips from my grip for the second time the past five minutes. I’m scrubbing my skin like one of the many dangerous thoughts that flared through Dimitri’s eyes when he shoved me into my room occurred instead of him locking me in the palace-like setting before he moseyed to his hookup for the night.
Well, I’m assuming it’s a one-night-only fling. They had a familiarity with each other like they know each other’s kinks. Alice didn’t bat an eyelid when Dimitri shoved me into my room, nor did she flinch when he cockily strolled her way.
How do I know her response, you ask? I peered through the keyhole of my bedroom door like a freak who can’t get her rocks off without watching another woman get hers.
There’s nothing wrong with voyeurism until you realize you don’t want to be the watcher, you prefer being watched.
When that tedious bit of information curdled my stomach, I gathered myself up from the floor and drudged to the bathroom. My room is so opulent, it should have taken care of the massive knot in my stomach straight away. Regretfully, no amount of glamour can hide ugly truths. Estelle has hot water, electricity, and a bed to sleep in for the next God knows how long, but I have no way of contacting Estelle to tell her I’m safe, no way to check if she made it home from her double shift okay, and no way to tell her I miss her even though we’ve only been apart for hours.
The very first thing Dimitri confiscated when he let his goons off for the night was my phone. It occurred a mere second after he told Smith to disconnect all the home servers and landlines. He promised I would have a way of contacting Estelle during my stay, but I won’t be given the privilege until I’ve proven myself worthy.
I’m not exactly sure what he wants me to do to prove my worth. I all but begged for him to answer one of the thoughts in his head when I toppled onto my knees, and I was still turned down.
Don’t judge. Until you’re in my predicament, you can’t say how you’d react. I can’t bribe Dimitri with money. By the looks of his house and the expensive cars I saw in the driveway, he has plenty of it. The cheap weed I’ve occasionally bought from my long-lost cousin wouldn’t come close to the stack of foiled bricks I saw when shadowing Dimitri’s walk through his home so that only leaves me one option. Sex.
If it were with his father or any of his gun-toting elderly friends, I’d cringe at the idea, but I’d be lying if I said the faintest trickle of hope didn’t race through my veins when I considered how I could make Dimitri realize I’m worth my weight in gold.
When it dawns on me that scrubbing my skin raw won’t stop my ears from working when I exit the bathroom, I shut off the faucet before stepping out of the steam-filled space. My nanna was a fan of letting your skin dry naturally, so I slip into my dressing gown instead of drying myself with the gold ‘P’ embossed towel on the heated towel rack.
While scrunching my hair to encourage natural waves, I use my spare hand to wipe away the condensation on the gold-framed mirror. The ring I inherited from my grandmother clinks against the foggy surface.
Once it’s all cleared away, I take a step back to get a better overall picture. The girl peering back at me doesn’t look as frightened as she should. I don’t look like a slave of a notorious gangster. My eyes are a darker shade of green than they usually are, and my hair appears more a reddish-brown since it’s dripping wet, but my lips are extra plump from the number of times I’ve dragged my teeth over them, and the smears of mascara my shower didn’t remove give my eyes a smoky look. For the most part, I look okay, somewhat desirable.
Just not enough to save myself without praying for a miracle.
I want Rocco’s plan to work. If it does, Dimitri’s daughter will be safe, and I’ll get to go home to my one-bedroom flat, in a town I hate, to the endless job applications at old folks homes where men like Dimitri’s father can’t wipe their own bottoms.
Can you understand why I’m so conflicted? My edges have always been more frayed than my friends. I’m as daring as I am stupid, but shouldn’t I be seeking my cheap thrills anywhere but here? Dimitri has almost killed me twice. He tortured my boyfriend before killing him, threatened to harm those I love if I don’t comply to his every request, then tossed me out with the bathwater when his late-night party favor arrived as scheduled, yet, I’m more jealous than I am angry.
That proves how insane I am—no evaluation is needed.
My lunacy can’t be helped. Every time I look at Dimitri, I remember what I experienced when he watched me in the alleyway. It’s the most alive I’ve ever felt, and it has me willing to take heedless risks to see if I can recreate it.
With a grumbling stomach and still soaking wet hair, I enter the main part of my room preparing to settle in for the night. I’m not a diva. I shower within the four-minute water restriction guidelines brought in years ago when droughts occurred miles and miles from here, so I’m confident I have a good thirty or more minutes before Dimitri returns with the food he promised.
Since my annoyance is higher than my wish to sleep, I’m startled to within an inch of my life when the entrance to my room has me stumbling onto Dimitri standing just inside the bedroom door. He’s still dressed in his powerhouse-ready suit, but his jacket and tie have been removed, and the sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled to his elbows.
“Back so soon?” I say before I can reprimand myself for being petty. I’m not upset he has returned early. I’m too gleaming with happiness to feel any type of disappointment. “I thought you’d be gone for hours.”
My smugness gets snuffed when he drops his eyes to my dressing gown as he grunts out, “Remove it.”
“W-w-what?” Don’t ask if I’m stuttering in fear or excitement as I wouldn’t be able to answer you.
Once I’m confident my voice will resemble some sort of normalcy, I ask, “Why? Didn’t you get your kicks from Alice?”
My heart thrashes against my ribs when Dimitri pushes off his feet to stalk my way. His walk matches the one I’ve dreamed about time and time again the past year. His hands just aren’t moving for the belt of his jeans as my fucked-up head recalls the security guard doing. I hardly took my eyes off Dimitri, so why do flashes of the guard’s hands moving
for his belt constantly pop into my head when I’m daydreaming?
I’m drawn from my thoughts when Dimitri asks, “What was our agreement, Roxanne?”
“You can call me Roxie. All my friends do…”
My offer to fake niceties fades to silence when the gritting of his teeth overtakes the shrill of my pulse in my ears. “What was our agreement, Rox-anne?” He overemphasis my name to prove a point.
“That I am to do what you want, when you want, for how long you want,” I chirp out like an obedient little bird.
Dimitri slants his head as his eyes flare with an unknown glimmer. “And what did I ask you to do?”
“You asked me to remove my dressing gown.” Knowing this is a test, I unknot the cord around my waist, toss open my dressing gown as if I’m wearing a onesie underneath, then let the material fall to the floor. I don’t care if this is a credit for my double business diploma or a sick, warped mind-fuck, I refuse to have another ‘F’ marked against my name.
The fluffy, static-loving material descended to the floor with a whoosh. Its breathy drop has nothing on the air that whistles through Dimitri’s teeth when he takes in my naked form for the first time. He can deny me all he likes and have his staff tell me I’m not his type, but the crotch of his pants isn’t so lucky. It’s fatter in an instant, and I’m not the only one noticing.
After adjusting his footing so his erection isn’t as prominent, Dimitri cranks his neck to the side of the room. When I follow the direction of his gaze, my mouth falls open. We’re not alone. The owner of the woman’s name I spat out as if it was vomit is seated in a leather chair behind a bulky desk. She’s taking in my naked backside as eagerly as Dimitri did.
“Leave it,” Dimitri shouts when I bob down to gather my dressing gown off the floor.
I freeze like a statue, aware of the repercussions if I ignore his direct order. Rocco barely survived Dimitri’s wrath when he demanded he switch places with the driver partway back to Hopeton. It ended with a gun being drawn and Rocco grumbling that Dimitri is a surly bastard who couldn’t see a good thing if it slapped him in the face.
Even with the heat of two beady eyes on me, I keep my hands balled at my sides and my eyes planted on the floor. I’m adventurous, but I am not comfortable with this. Estelle hasn’t seen me naked, and she’s been my friend for a hundred years.
“What do you think?” This question came from Dimitri, but it wasn’t directed at me. It’s for his gawking, bug-eyed friend.
“She’s a little skinny, and her hair could use a trim, but I don’t see any issues. Her body has a nice symmetry between her hips and breasts, and she’s very attractive. She’ll turn heads no matter the notoriety of your guests.” Alice has an accent like nearly every other person in Dimitri’s crew. It isn’t as strong as the others but still noticeable.
My eyes float up to Dimitri when he asks, “And her scar?”
In the corner of my eye, I spot Alice making her way across the room. She either sees naked women regularly, or she isn’t interested in anything I’m offering. Her eyes never leave mine—not once. She saw what she needed of my body, and now her focus is elsewhere.
Through twisted lips, Alice asks Dimitri, “You don’t want to keep her bangs?”
“No, it hides her face. It’s one of her best assets. I don’t want it hidden.” His reply is almost a compliment until he adds, “I just need to get rid of her scar.”
I inconspicuously drape my arms in front of my breasts when Alice stops in front of me to brush my bangs off my forehead. She doesn’t cringe when she takes in the scar I got from hitting the ground headfirst. She hums out a moan. “I agree with your assessment. Even pinning her bangs back will give her face more appeal. And her eyes…” There she goes with her inappropriate moaning again. “They’re perfect.” After dropping her hand from my face, she shifts on her feet to face Dimitri. “Are you sure you don’t want her to become an asset? The men will love her.”
“I’m not interested in selling her.” When relief darts trough my eyes, Dimitri is quick to shut it down. “Yet.” Leering at my pout, he nudges his head at me like he hasn’t been ogling the shadows between my legs the past five minutes. “Get your measurements. I need outfits by morning.”
Alice’s smile matches Dimitri’s hidden one when she replies, “No need. I have everything I need right here.” She taps her faultlessly perfect nail on her even more faultless head. “Six or eight? I can’t do seven because Lucy has a Skype session with her father. The warden would only agree to a morning session.” A pfft vibrates her lips. “Anyone would think he was running the show around there.”
Dimitri laughs. I don’t know his laughs, but I’d register this one as being sixty percent fake, even with him seeming friendly with Alice. “We’ll do six. Roxanne is about to head to bed, so she’ll be well-rested.” He commences walking Alice to the door. “And if you want me to talk to Ashton, let me know. He’s new, so he still has a lot to learn.”
“I’ve got it, but thanks for the offer.” A stupid rush of jealousy scatters through my veins when she presses a kiss to Dimitri’s mouth. She doesn’t do the air kisses the rich folks do. She presses her mouth so firmly to his, even though I can’t see Dimitri’s lips, I know they’re coated with lipstick. “Until tomorrow.”
When she farewells me with a wiggle of her fingers, I snatch up my dressing gown from the floor. I have one arm in and the other just about to burst through the opening when Dimitri demands me to ‘leave it’ again.
I don’t listen this time around, too mortified with embarrassment to care about being punished. Not only did he parade me in front of a woman who has more plastic than a Barbie doll, he made me feel hideously ugly while doing it.
“Why do that? Why agree to my help if I’m not up to your standards?” After tying the dressing gown’s belt around my waist like it will take more than a set of hands to undo the knot, I air quote my last word.
“Tomorrow’s guests are very important to my overall plan. They’d never believe my ruse if you showed up in a Ross Dress for Less dress.”
I stare at Dimitri, wondering how the hell he knew my dress was from my favorite discount clothing chain.
He douses my curiosity in an instant. “Your dress tag had the infamous last season strike through it. It wasn’t showcased at Fashion Week this season.” He snickers in a way the men for Queer Eye for a Straight Guy would be proud of. “It probably wasn’t featured in the last two decades.”
My anger is lessening, but I still scoff, not over the jabs he hit my ego with just yet. “And your revulsion of my scar? What’s your excuse for that?”
Air whizzes out of my nose when he has the audacity to laugh. I’m glad he’s finding amusement in our exchange. I’m anything but humored. “I’ll do what you ask. I will follow your plan. I’ll even let your over-polished bozo make me look like a gleaming piece of plastic, but the next time you look in the mirror, ask yourself how you’d feel if your daughter ended up with a man like you.”
Ignoring the furious heat bounding out of him, I drag down the bedspread on the king-size bed I’m standing next to, then slip between the sheets.
“You need to eat before sleeping.” Dimitri’s words are ground through clenched teeth and a pulsating jaw. Right here, right now, he wouldn’t care if I starved to death. The only reason he’s acting like he gives a shit is because he wants his daughter back, and Alice’s visit filled him with hope that I could help him with that. “Roxanne—”
“I’m not hungry.”
His roar nearly shudders my heart straight out of my chest. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re hungry or not. You heard what Alice said. You are far too skinny. You need to eat.”
When a stretch of silence passes between us, he growls out my name again. Unfortunately for him, my hair coloring matches my personality.
Lately, I’m as stubborn as I am stupid.
“Fine. Don’t fucking eat. You can starve for all I care.” Although he sounds more fru
strated than vindictive, his words still kick me in the gut. My ego hasn’t gotten over his earlier battering. It didn’t need another walloping.
My wallowing in a self-pity party is bookmarked for another date when the sound of someone getting undressed trickles into my ears a few minutes later. Too curious to discount the odd noise considering I’m in the room with a stranger, I slant my head to the left before glancing across the room.
My parched throat becomes a thing of the past when my eyes lock in on Dimitri’s half-dressed form. His dress shirt has been removed, and he’s in the process of yanking a wife beater over his head.
The number of tattoos on his hands, forearms, and neck should have clued me in on the fact he has an extensive collection, but I had no clue it was this vast. Black artwork covers almost every inch of his body—even the top of his thighs which I get a bird’s-eye view of when he toes off his shoes before tugging down his trousers. It’s a beautiful collection that grows more exquisite when you take in how they accentuate the cut groves of his body. I doubt he works out, but his body proves he doesn’t leave the heavy lifting to his goons. He gets in on the action as often as possible.
“Sweet Mother of Jesus,” I whisper on a moan when he leans across his desk to dump a set of cufflinks into a silver dish. His backside is divine, an ass worthy of a top-rated centerfold.
When Dimitri suddenly freezes, no doubt feeling the heat of my stare, I snap my eyes shut and pretend I’m sleeping. In less than a second, it dawns on me that my ruse is futile. Not only do I feel the heat of his eyes on me as I ogled him only moments ago, I hear his sock-covered feet indenting the thick carpet pile. He doesn’t cross the room with his infamous cocky strut. He takes his time, moving slyly like a fox, forever on alert, yet somehow easily distracted.
“I had wondered if your refusal to eat was because your hunger had nothing to do with food.” His voice is thicker than it usually is, twanged with his Italian heritage. “But since I always double-guess myself around you, I once again brushed it off. Silly me.” He’s at the side of my bed now, so close the fine hair on the tops of his legs brush the arm draped across my body. “Everything you want to see is right in front of you, so why don’t you open your eyes, Roxanne?”
