Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I open my mouth but shut it.
I do know.
I’ve seen Marco punished for the few escapades I had in my teens.
Goddammit! I feel defeated.
“I never meant to put you in that situation. And I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m suffocating,” I say, pressing my hand to my head.
I’ve called my father multiple times since being in New York, and no matter how many times I “kick and scream” as he puts it, it was the agreed-upon condition. But guilt is a very real thing. Despite what happened last night, I want to be free.
Rya taps her long nails against her mug thoughtfully. “Perhaps I can speak with Father.”
We both look at her.
“I’ve tried so many times,” I say to her. “You know what he’s like.”
“Oh, I know what Father can be like. He had someone pretend to be my best friend for years just so he could keep tabs on me.”
“But at least he let you come here without security.” Tears prick my eyes because it’s Rya. Strong, independent Rya. And I have always been the backup. Had to be made extra safe to secure the line and ensure contracts were at play. And now it’s a habit. Something I don’t know how to break free.
Rya seems remorseful, and Marco averts his gaze and sips his coffee. Not without sniffing it first.
I let out a small laugh. “Marco, I won’t do it again.”
“I never thought you’d do it in the first place,” he grumbles before taking another sip.
“What if I suggest Crue’s security take over?” Rya offers.
I’d just be moving from one set of chains to another. She gives me a look that says she wasn’t done speaking. I sigh, and she continues, “But we have different conditions around it, and your phone is tracked. No walking you to and from work. No hovering on dates. And in bigger social gatherings they’re to lie low, but someone will still be there.”
“Your father won’t trust someone else’s security,” Marco interjects.
Rya gives him an arrogant look, which reminds me so much of our father. She can truly bring men to their knees. What she says is law. And I’m, what? Nothing but a coddled backup.
“My husband’s security is sound,” Rya says, putting her mug on the table. “Not that I like it when they breathe down my neck. And anyway, Honey is trained in self-defense. She can look after herself. She’s just never had the space to do so. Besides, our father arranged our marriage with the Montis, so he’s not ignorant to their force. And, Marco, you can go back home and enjoy time with your family. Take a holiday for once. Woo your wife.”
He snorts at that. And the energy in the room immediately shifts. And for the first time, I have hope. Another shackle is possibly being broken. A new space is being made for me to explore.
“Do you think it will work?” I ask.
Rya offers me a ruthless smile. “I’ve never gone into a debate where I’ve been told no. But you need to promise me that you will remain on your best behavior, within reason, of course. This is leveraging a lot on Crue’s reputation as well.”
I sit, almost desperate for the rope she’s giving me. I place my hand on hers. “I’ll try not to do anything that you would do.”
And to that, she laughs.
CHAPTER 25
Dawson
Twenty-fucking-million my sweet honeypot went for.
It’s the most we’ve ever seen at our virgin auctions. The next virgin for the night went for four million. My knuckles go white over the page of bidder names. I had to leave straight after as I couldn’t face her. Our transaction was complete. There was nothing more to exchange. Whatever freedom she was after, I hope I was able to help her set free.
“Dawson.” Lesley enters my office without so much as knocking.
“It better be good,” I all but growl, not pleased at being interrupted.
Her expression is grim. Behind her stands Macy, one of our escorts, who is holding herself tightly. I look between the two in the heavy silence of the room.
“What happened?” I stand from my chair, waving Macy in. She enters and closes the door behind her. I can tell in her body language—I know it well—that something was taken.
Lesley watches Macy as she ushers her to sit in the chair. I crouch in front of the woman who has worked for my company for two years. She came from a background of prostitution. I provided her with an alternative path. One where she is paid generously for her services and has security provided at all times.
“Macy, what happened?” I ask. A thick tension wraps around my throat. I already know what she’s about to say, but I hope I’m wrong.
Tears well in her eyes and spill over her cheeks as I place my hand over hers. “I think I was raped,” she whispers.