FERAL SINS (The Phoenix Pack, Book One)

by Suzanne Wright

  And, God, when her emotions were running high it was impossible to look away from her. Anger was a good look for her, making her unique eyes feral and become somehow hypnotic. There were no real words to explain it. Whatever it was, it made his dick twitch. Just like everything else about her.

  Sinful. That was what she was.

  Just what he needed.

  Jaxxon had long ago noticed the long-legged, sandy-haired bloke who was sat in the far corner, alone. She had also noticed that his eyes seemed to follow her every movement. She was used to being stared at in this place, though she could never for the life of her fathom what it was that people thought was worth staring at. She blamed the big breasts and the fact that she was usually the youngest female in here.

  However, this bloke looked at her differently. Like he was studying her. Like she was some kind of weird artefact that needed to be carefully appraised. She didn’t like that. Although he was dressed as casually as all the other punters, there was something about him that suggested he somehow didn’t belong.

  When his eyes met hers, Jaxxon raised a brow questioningly. Her philosophy had always been that if you had something to say, say it. In response he mimicked her movement. His expression seemed to be daring her to approach him and act on her agitation. She merely snorted. The bloke was very much mistaken if he thought that a little staring would unnerve her – when you worked in a dodgy place like this you had to learn to get used to it pretty quick. Maybe he would have had a chance at unnerving her if he was dressed in leather and wearing a collar like the Submissives…Why were they even still here?

  Throughout her entire shift his gaze remained settled on her. Though it hadn’t made her nervous, it had made her downright irritated. Still she had ignored the out-of-place ogler. No, not ogler. His glare was studious. When he was the last punter to leave, Jaxxon had expected that he might approach her. He didn’t. It was Joe who he went to. For a moment Jaxxon wondered if she had got it wrong and it had been Joe that the glarer was concentrated on all along. Quickly she discarded that notion. No, she had felt his gaze.

  “Jaxxon,” called Joe. He didn’t speak again until she reached his side. “This punter here would like to speak to you.”

  “Yeah, so?” It wasn’t exactly unusual for one of the oddballs drinking here to want have a ‘chat’ with her – something they considered preliminary to the sex they also had planned. It came with the barmaid territory. It was a wonder she hadn’t succumbed to the urge to murder any of them.

  “So he’s paying me one hundred to accommodate a ten minute talk with you, and I’m really fond of money so -”

  “One hundred…to talk?”

  “Just a verbal exchange, nothing more,” assured the stranger in a shockingly well-spoken voice. But his words weren’t comforting at all. What kind of person pays that kind of money for someone to talk to them? Why didn’t the oddball just approach her himself?

  Before Jaxxon could speak again, Joe added, “And seen as your shift hasn’t technically finished yet, you can consider this a task from your employer.”

  She scowled at Joe but he simply giggled and left them to have their private ‘verbal exchange’. The posh stranger instantly spoke. His voice was reassuring.

  “I realise that this might be quite an unorthodox way to arrange a conversation with someone -”

  “Oh really, you think so?”

  He smiled. “I had the distinct feeling, after watching you closely tonight, that any attempt I made to engage in conversation with you wouldn’t get me very far.”

  She nodded, conceding that.

  “Plus, I wanted us to be able to speak privately and I understood that it would need to be a place where you felt safe. I somehow couldn’t envision you inviting me to your home, especially at midnight.”

  “You going to tell me who you are and what you want?” He handed her a business card which she read aloud. “Richie Moore. Moore’s Modelling Agency. Partner.” Jaxxon scrutinised him through narrowed, keen eyes. Maybe she could believe that an oddball recruiter might decide to approach her thinking that they might get a shag in exchange for offering her a non-existent modelling job, but a partner of a modelling agency?

  “You are wondering why the top of the food chain would bother personally with the hunt,” he guessed. “Please allow me to explain.” He perched himself on the stool beside him. “A close friend of mine runs a very successful cosmetic company, and he and I have come together on a project, a joint venture you might say. A new range of cosmetics was designed between the two of us; a line that is dramatic and echoes a bold yet carefree mind-set, a collection that will cater for both the everyday look and the socialising evening.”

  “You really think you have products that can pull that off?”

  His grin was dripping with confidence. “Oh indeed I do. And so now we are searching for the face that will set it off. When you open magazines you have your sweet, open, angelic faces that look ridiculously happy, and you have those who have mastered the sexy, seductive, erotic look. In both mine and my partner’s opinion, neither are particularly representative of true life. After all, if all people were truly so happy or so sexy, there would be no need for cosmetics or other such things.”

  She guessed that much was true but she didn’t comment.

  “Neither look echoes the product line. What he and I have been looking for is someone real. Someone truly representative of life as it really is. And, unfortunately, life has its fair share of pain, suffering and tests.” It had therefore been Richie’s idea to look in areas like this where poverty and crime was prominent, where silver-spoon lifestyles were alien. Thank God he had. “I believe that you, Jaxxon, know a depth of pain that some may never experience. I have sat and observed tonight as many others who know pain were drawn to you; as if they look at you and see another wounded soul, and your strength is like a homing beacon to them.”

  Homing beacon? This all sounded like psychological bollocks to her. Jaxxon gave him a sceptical look but he seemed to ignore it.

  “That kind of strength can only come from being accepting of what you have endured and who you truly are. I like that you refuse to act as society expects you to act. You’re not civil if you do not believe the person you are speaking to deserves it, you’re not patient if you do not believe the person trying your patience is worthy of it. You’re true to yourself, you’re real. And that is what we need: someone who is bold and dramatic just like the range itself.”

  Richie gave her a moment to digest all that he had said. Anyone else may have become defensive during someone’s analysis of them, or argue with the conclusions of that analysis. But no, this young woman was totally accepting of who she was and cared not what others thought. He deeply admired and respected her for it.

  “As you are undoubtedly aware,” he continued, “in my line of business, beauty is a large part of a model’s success. You have a natural and uniquely strong glamour. Your desirability is not something that need be enhanced; your appearance is just as compelling as your character.” He smiled widely. “What will be the key to your success, young Jaxxon, is that pair of eyes you have. They take on a certain intensity when you are…shall we say frustrated? They literally smoulder. It is most entrancing. I’ve honestly never seen anything like it. I’m sure we can somehow manage to frustrate you a little during the photo-shoot.”

  The latter sentence distracted Jaxxon from her contemplating whether he was a little nuts and had missed his medication. “Photo-shoot?”

  “Yes, I’d like you to come and meet my business partner, have some test shots, and then together we can go from there if this is something that we would all be happy with.”

  Jaxxon might have sent him on his way with a snort and an insult if it weren’t for the fact that her instincts seemed to like him. She trapped his gaze with hers, searching for the truth. “You’re really who you say you are?”

  Richie wondered if she had any idea just how enthralling her gaze could be. Like
she was literally yanking the truth from his soul. “Indeed I am.”

  “This isn’t some kind of scam?”

  “No, it is not.”

  “You are honestly considering me as the face of your new cosmetics range?” She didn’t hide how idiotic she found that idea.

  “Yes I am.”

  “You’re not a fruitcake?”

  Richie laughed at that. “I understand this may seem a little surreal. I don’t suppose opportunities like this just crop up all the time.”

  He had that right. It was certainly not every day that someone like her was approached by a modelling agency, and then be told that she was super because she was sort of damaged and rude. It would have made sense for her to be experiencing some kind of shock at this moment. However Jaxxon had long ago concluded that life had so many twists and turns that trying to anticipate anything in life would be downright stupid. Expect the unexpected – isn’t that what they say? She still lived according to the theory that it was best to always roll with the punches. And as punches went, this risk wasn’t even a slap. It wasn’t as if she had anything to lose.

  And yet, for her to reach for this opportunity would make her feel somewhat of a fraud. Sure she knew suffering and pain but so did a gazillion other people, it made her nothing special. “Listen, if what you’re looking for is someone who’s experienced real pain then you should go further down the poverty drainpipe; plenty of people have been through worse than me.”

  “True, but the depth of your pain is not the main factor here.”

  “And I really don’t get this ‘entrancing’, ‘compelling’ crap that you’re saying about me.”

  Richie’s lips curved into a smile, he liked that she wasn’t vain. “That is merely a matter of self-confidence. We can work on that.”

  “The trouble is you’re not really considering what you’d be letting yourself in for. Something tells me I’m not the kind of person you’re used to having around you.”

  “How so?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not friendly or polite.”

  “Most pleasantries, pleases and thank-yous are insincere, I find.”

  “I don’t smile much.”

  “Your intensity is what I like.”

  “I don’t pose and I don’t know how to strut – nor would I want to learn.”

  “Has nobody ever told you that there is an effortless sensuality to your movements?”

  God this bloke was persistent. “I don’t work well by myself or as part of a group.”

  “Then you’ll be dearly frustrated which will very conveniently bring that incredible spark in your eyes for the photos.”

  “I wouldn’t think twice about hurting someone who tried to touch me if I felt I needed to.”

  “I shouldn’t worry about that; you’re scary enough to make people hesitate to touch you anyway.”

  “I curse like a sailor.”

  “We can always say you have Tourette’s Syndrome.”

  “Even someone with Tourette’s Syndrome would be wide-eyed by some of the things that come out of my mouth.”

  He shrugged. “That is simply because you are an expressive person. There is nothing at all wrong with that. It is part of what makes you so intense and puts that look in your eyes.”

  “So basically what you’re saying is that you want me as the face for this range of yours because I’m a bitch who doesn’t care that she’s one.”

  He grinned at her opinion of herself. “Even bitches can get a break in life.”