Brandon Stevens' Pauper Princess | Book I |

Chapter 7



<7>

[Hannah's POV]

"Not a hooker huh?" I heard a tinge of ridicule in his deep voice. Even with his face was a fanthom in the dark I could almost see the contemptuous look in his eyes.

"What are you doing here? How did you find me?" I sat upright and gathered the blanket around me protectively.

"Didn't find you, just unlucky enough to run into you." His gaze bore at me and I felt almost vulnerable under these sheets with him eyeing me so openly as if he aimed to make me feel nervous.

"Gina described you as a gorgeous looking hazel eyed minx who seems to perform well in the bed. I was quite convinced and so I went here to check on the woman she's talking about. But now, I think it's just purely a waste of time." He mocked.

"So you're one of the regular clients here?" I said bravely. He paid women here for sex. Wasn't he content of the woman in his office?

"No, Gina's an acquaintance. She's been persuading me to come over and check out her new business and bed one of her girls." He said and lit up a cigar. He puffed smoke out and shoved his light back into his pocket.

He smoked while keeping his eyes on me. "So I'm the victim of her little business proposal? I don't think you're not compensated enough to try doing this kind of business with her, selling flesh of poor little women who have no choice!" I spat angrily.

"Shut your sharp mouth." He ordered darkly. "You are talking like you are not one of them. Brave. And I almost believed your denials back there. But then again I found you here waiting patiently for your next customer."

"If you only let me talk to your boss hours ago I'd probably be at home by now and not in this almost inhabitable place!" I raged.

"So you're left with no choice that's why you are earning easy money here." He concluded, he leaned over and pressed his free hand on the edge of the bed. "I don't blame your desperation to survive.Now that Johnson's behind bars as poor as the rats you're back to living like a gypsy." He smirked before he sucked smoke from his cigarette then puffed it out. He straightened.

How come he knew so much about my father? I hated him so much that my hand itched to slap him. Yet I knew I had no fight against him. He wouldn't hesitate throttling me to death.

"I've nowhere to go mister!" I spat in a trembling voice blinking back the tears threatening to fall. "I don't care if you don't believe me. As soon as I speak with Mr. Stevens you're going to eat your words!"

"What makes you think you'll convince him to hand over the mansion? He ain't the kind of man who pity street kitten like you. Business for him should be kept strict and separated from personal issues." His voice sounded slithery.

"You sounded like you know him too well. I think you're just one of the leeches that suck blood from him but pretend to be an ally." I sliced at him but instead of being insulted, he laughed in derision.

"You underestimate him so much woman. He knows who his foes and allies are very well." He stepped on his cigar before stepped aside and he advanced toward the side of the bed. I cringed away. His eyes predatory. He leaned over, his hands pressing the mattress in my sides, imprisoning me. I leaned back.

"For now let's not talk about him. I'm sure you're willing enough to ease the ache that has been bothering me for hours now." He murmured and I smelled the alcohol in his breath.

"W-what do you mean?" I asked nervously. His face was so close, now visible from the dim light of the lampshade.

"Oh, you know too well what I mean." He whispered and leaned even closer, his mouth brushed so lightly against mine. It wasn't entirely a kiss, just a teasing touch.