Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Jase’s gaze flickers to me again before he answers, “Yeah, we’re on for tonight.” Patting the doorframe, he nods toward Carter and leaves us alone.
The tears, the flashback, and panic, they seem foolish now. It was only a glimpse at the past. Carter loosens his hold on me as my body stiffens and I hold my arms to my chest.
Why does he hold me and comfort me, when I’m nothing to him but a play toy? It’s so he can make me weak. I know that’s why. I’ll fall powerless to him so easily. And he’ll use me up and throw me out.
I can already see it happening.
“I’ll be gone tonight.” Carter’s voice seems deeper, rougher even. The sound forces me to look at him as he speaks. It’s odd to be at nearly eye level as I sit on his lap.
His gaze is so sharp, I can barely look him in the eye.
“You can get yourself dinner. And wait for me in either the kitchen, den, or bedroom.” I stare at the knob on one of the drawers of his desk, nodding my head in obedience and feeling awkward and too afraid to speak.
My body shudders as he lays a hand on my upper back, between my shoulder blades and working his way down to the small of my back.
“Maybe you need a drink?”
When I turn to him this time, I want to yell at him. I want to hide. I want to cry.
The question is on the tip of my tongue, why are you doing this to me?
But I already know the answer. It’s why Carter does everything.
Because he can. Because he wants to.
Chapter 25
Carter
* * *
The Red Room wasn’t my idea. It was Jase’s, of all people. He’s quiet, keeps to himself, but he created a club that’s the perfect cover-up and a successful business at that. He always stays in the back, where other business is conducted, but nonetheless, Jase’s creation is something he’s proud of. And every time I come here, I’m reminded of that fact.
The music thrums in my veins before the large red glass doors even open. In a gray tailored suit, I don’t exactly blend in with the nightlife. Not like Jase does in his faded jeans and crisp, button-down, open at the collar.
I prefer a suit. Jase prefers to blend in. Each method has its advantages.
“Welcome back, sirs,” Jared greets us as we step into the club, the music at full volume and the smells of alcohol and sex appeal hit me instantly. With the dark red paisley wallpaper that lines the walls and black chandeliers hanging from the sixteen-foot-high black ceiling, The Red Room looks like a nightclub of sin at first glance.
As the alcohol pours throughout the night and the bodies grind against one another, sin is an accurate description. The money flows as easily as the liquor.
Walking past the grinding bodies and kitten eyes from several women holding drinks in one hand and their clutches in another, I ignore it all, listening intently to what Jared has to say.
I stopped everything to come down here with my brother. All because Jared, the club manager, and head of business while we’re away, said he had a girl who would talk.
“You sure it’s her?” Jase asks him.
“Yeah,” Jared nods as we pass the second bar and make our way around the edge of the dance floor to get to the backroom. “She comes in every week asking for it.”
“What’d you tell her?”
“Nothing. Just that the delivery is on a delay.” The DJ starts a new set and the dance floor roars so loudly the ground shakes as the steel doors to the backroom push open and then close softly, finally silencing the distractions of the club.
“Thanks for waiting for us,” Jase tells the two men in the back of the room. Mick is one of them; I don’t know the name of the other, but Jase does. This is Jase’s place to run. Everyone knows him, and he knows everyone, so I let him lead and stay quiet.
Quiet is dangerous, and that’s exactly how I want them to see me.
“Of course, Mr. Cross,” Mick says and nods his head at Jase then quirks a smile at me as he adds, “and Mr. Cross.”
The small girl seated at the lone table in the room grips the plastic cup of a pink drink that’s probably got just as much sugar in it as alcohol. Her lips part open with a hint of disbelief and then she licks them, smiling although it’s thin and withered. Just like the state of her body under the too-tight tube top.
“You’re waiting for the delivery?” Jase asks, looking to the left and right as if he doesn’t want to say it out loud and get caught by someone. I’d laugh at him and his display, but he’s damn good at what he does, and I do enjoy a good show.