LEAH
After waking up with a raging headache, I stumbled out of bed and dove into the bathroom.
I unleashed the hounds of hell from my body before fastening myself to the sink. My makeup was smudged and my dress had twisted halfway around my body.
I reached for my toothbrush. My fist clamped around a shiny electronic scrubber that I knew was not mine.
Fuck.
I straightened my dress and wiped away the remnants of my mascara. I quietly eased the bathroom door open and tiptoed out to the main part of the hotel room.
My eyes flicked around the space. A man sat at the breakfast bar, his face and body obscured by a newspaper. I froze.
So I spent last night with a man. Why couldn't I remember who it was? Or what we did? Fuck, I needed to run.
Before I could push my muscles into motion, the newspaper folded down and a set of piercing eyes locked on me. I straightened with a small breath.
"Good morning," James greeted.
Mega, mega shit.
"Morning." I smiled forcefully and rubbed my hands together. "Sorry I, uh, crashed here last night."
He shook his head. "You didn't have your key, so we didn't have much of a choice. Your new one is on the table by the door. We have to leave for a donor consult in an hour."
"Right, yes." And with the grace of a drunk turtle, I shuffled to the door, grabbed my room key, and hurried across the hall to my room.
—(—)—
After a long day of meetings and consultations, I found myself getting ready yet again.
My eyes looked over the mini cream lace dress I had brought along. The lemon-yellow heels I wore with it were a bitch to walk in, but I'd survive. I intended to save this outfit for when I would venture out to find someone to shag me.
That was before I knew I wouldn't have any free time on this trip and that James was taking me on some super secret mission with him.
Earlier today we met with a few investors for the Foundation. It was nice getting to talk to people about my new work.
I had no idea was so passionate about supporting mental health and education for healthcare workers and domestic violence victims. The words just flowed out of me.
When I did speak about my own experience, it didn't hurt so much to talk about. It was kind of relieving, actually. My experience was less of an ugly blemish to hide in the dark and more of a survival story. Even though I struggled to admit it, I was a survivor. I would be dead right now if not for the police who responded that night.
We scored several new donors and already had committed donations. James even offered me a "nice work" compliment. From him, that seemed like pure gold.
Tonight was our final evening in the Big Apple and I wanted to make the most of it. As soon as our mission was complete, I was going to find a man to lure into bed. My skills were rusty, but I could make do. I had to before I did something naughty with someone I shouldn't.
The knock on my door signaled James' arrival. I touched my ponytail with a self-conscious sniff before trudging to the door. Flinging it open, I greeted James with what I hoped was a cool, ready look. His appearance took me by surprise.
He was handsome. Anyone with a single eyeball could see that. His posture and the way he looked at the people around him reminded me so much of Jarrod.
My chest squeezed.
He was dressed in a dusky blue and black athlete jacket over a blue and gray striped shirt with dark khaki pants. His gray oxfords added a nice touch. I couldn't help but notice the way his hair was messily tossed aside, the gel from earlier now distressed.
"I'm supposed to look casual," he said. "Should I change?"
"Not at all. I think you look fine."
He gulped and plucked at his jacket. "I rarely go out. I don't know what is fashionably casual anymore."
"I didn't know this was supposed to be casual anyway. I probably need to change," I muttered, glancing down at my hellish stilettos.
James followed my gaze, his impenetrable eyes unraveling my outfit. I tried to stay still and not squirm. It wasn't like he was looking at me anyway. He was just checking my dress out.
"That will do," he grumbled. "The Uber is waiting downstairs. We need to go."
"Off we go."
On the way down the elevator, I cleared my throat and fiddled with my ponytail. "So what am I supposed to do tonight? Hang off your arm?"
"Just at first. Once we get into the club, I'm going to dig around for the plug. They'll take me to a separate section of the building and I'll go alone. You will distract the boss. He might recognize me and we can't have that."
"What do you mean? He might recognize you?"
"I might have dealt with some of his enemies before. I might be working with them now."
"Oh, good. So this all falls on me for keeping you safe," I remarked.
My hands gripped my plush arms. I couldn't believe I let myself do this—go this far with another Muller. Hadn't I learned my lesson?
"Shouldn't be too hard," he told me. "I'm doing all the heavy lifting this time."
I tried not to roll my eyes. We stepped out of the elevator and strutted through the lobby, towards the black luxury SUV he had hired.
"Here's a valid question: are you ever not a jackass?" I looked up at him with my best glower.
"I am always a jackass. That's the way to survive."
"That's the way to get an ass-whooping," I muttered.
We climbed into the roomy vehicle and shot off into city traffic. James occupied himself on his phone the whole drive. My nose pressed against the glass as I tried to absorb each glimpse of the city I saw. I didn't get to try authentic Italian or Chinese food. No cannolis or pizza or dumplings. Despite being fed delicious food at every lunch and dinner event, none of it was uniquely New York. James probably believed the touristy things I wanted to see and experience were overrated.
The SUV rolled to a halt outside a brick building that filled an entire city block. A line of men and women wrapped around the structure. They all were waiting to get into a door beneath a red neon sign.
HANNIBAL'S
James and I got out of the vehicle and met on the sidewalk. Without thinking twice, I sidled up against him. His staggering figure tensed. Our gazes brushed for a split second.
"I hope we aren't waiting in that line," I said, nodding at the formidable string of clubbers. Each time the door opened, music poured out onto the sidewalk and street.
"Nope," James replied.
He grabbed my hand and looped it through his, resting my palm on his hard bicep. I gulped and tried not to dwell on his delicious cologne and body heat. He tugged me by our linked arms towards the side of the building.
We circled to the damp, fluorescent-green alley. There was a smaller line back here. As we joined the tail-end, the two men in front of us looked back. James sunk his arm around my waist and pulled me close, kissing the top of my head. I blinked.
"Time to act," he whispered.
I nodded and sucked in a breath. His body was so warm, wrapped around me. My skin tingled from his feathery kiss. It had been way too long since I had been with a man. I couldn't let myself react like this to James. Hell to the no.
The line moved quickly and soon green wristbands were tied to our wrists. We filed down a set of steps, into a dark club. Flashing neons and glow-in-the-dark signs were the only sources of light.
James kept a tight grip on me as we moved deeper into the club. I noticed the bar with a gulp. It had been a while since I'd let loose. This was not necessarily a good place to start, but I didn't think enjoying myself would be terrible.
The breath knocked out of me as I was pushed into a wall. I looked up to see James holding my arms, his eyes boring down into me. My stomach flipped.
"What are you—"
"See that bald man in the suit over there?" he asked, nodding his head towards a roped-off section. He stood just close enough for me to hear him over the rave's noisy din and send my heart into cardiac arrest.
The man in question stood next to the podium where an attendant was. He appeared to be barking orders. Most importantly, he was facing our direction. His bald head reflected the lights flashing over him and a pair of sunglasses rested over his eyes.
"That's the boss," James said.
"You didn't have to shove me." I shook off his grip with a glare. "I'll do my job. You go do yours. And be quick about it."
He sighed through flared nostrils as I slipped around him and headed to the bar. I could act so much better with alcohol.
"Just not too much," I reminded myself, feeling the words on my lips without hearing them.
The techno music blaring from the stage DJ was deafening. The ground shook from the bass. I ordered a vodka and cranberry juice, all the while keeping an eye on my target. Just as my drink was delivered, the bald man stomped over to a corner of the room to go up a set of stairs.
"What's the damage?" I yelled at the bartender.
He pointed to my wrist. "VIP! No charge."
I nodded and darted into the crowd with my drink. The condensation rolled between my fingers. Doubts filled my mind.
What the hell was I doing here? I could fuck this up big time. How was I supposed to distract this guy anyway?
Shaking my head, I flung the doubts away. I could do this. I could do whatever I needed to. A year of therapy was not about to be flushed down the drain by a seemingly difficult task. I tossed the vodka drink back and hurried up the dark staircase.
As I neared the top, the music faded and the relative quiet calmed me. There was a door at the top of the stairs. It flew open and nearly smacked me back down the whole flight.
Fortunately, I ducked to the side in time.
Two women stumbled out and moved down the steps past me. They didn't even look at me. The darkness concealed their features but it seemed like one of the women was supporting the other. Clenching my teeth, I caught the closing door and moved through it.
The space before me resembled a loft reformed into an office lounge. There was a desk in the corner and a couch placed flush against one wall, where the bald man sat. Three women sat with him. Or on him, really.
They all looked up. The women were doped up on something—their squinted, glassy eyes peering up in my general direction without focus.
The metal table at their knees held a tray with all kinds of jars and powders on display.
The room felt stiflingly humid. Slow Spanish music played through the speakers in the ceiling, completely different from the atmosphere downstairs.
"Oh . . ." I tapped my chin. "So, is this not the bathroom? Whoops!" I spun around to leave, hoping my plan might work.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going?"
A pulse of panic tore through me. I turned back and forced a confident, drunk look across my face. "Who me?"
"Who else?" he demanded. His eyes raked me over. "Did Leo send you up?"
"Yes. Yep, he did." I couldn't help but look at the tray, astonished to be so close to something so illegal.
The bald man relaxed into his seat and the women crawled back over him, mewling and moaning. I tried to conceal my horror.
"Help yourself, girl," he told me, nodding at the tray. "You aren't at my level yet. That's where I need you to be if we gonna play."
Play? James better hurry the fuck up.
"You know, alcohol gets me where I need to be just fine." I laughed to ease the nervous waver in my voice.
He looked at the girl beside him and nodded to the door. "Go get a tray of shots."
"But—"
"You about to make me ask twice?"
The girl sighed but stood up and marched her slender legs toward the exit. She roughly slammed her shoulder into mine on her way out. I stumbled in my heels but managed to catch myself. My eyes flickered back toward the target. A ripple of repulsion snaked down my spine.
"Come, join us," he beckoned me. "Quiero conocerte." (I want to get to know you.)
I scratched my head. "Do you though? I mean, I think you are enjoying your friends there just fine—"
"You should know by now, little thickie, that I don't repeat myself and I don't ask. I command. So come sit that juicy ass next to Daddy."
Bile flushed up my throat. I took a deep breath. James, where are you? My hands trembled as I clutched them. I begrudgingly made my way to the couch. A pit of dread tugged at my belly. This wasn't a good situation. For once, I couldn't imagine how it might end. I didn't know if I could fight my way out of this if I had to.
As soon as I sat down, one of the women rested her head on my shoulder. Her eyes fluttered shut and she smiled. I sat rigidly. Then I felt a warm, moist hand on my knee. My head snapped towards Mr. Creepo.
His pink lips were curled in a sinister, devilish smirk. He squeezed my knee to the point of discomfort. I instinctively swatted his hand off. The smirk vanished. My gut twisted.
"Bebita," he said in a dangerously low, dark voice, "I think it's time you do some blow. My patience is runnin' out with you." (Baby girl)
"I just want a drink. Sorry."
He chuckled tersely and shook his head. "Is that really why you came up here? I don't think so. Leo knows what I like. Either you sniff some or you bend over and let me fuck that fat ass, little thickie."
"Okay, that's it," I hissed, jumping up from the couch.
James could figure this shit out on his own. I was not okay with where this was going.
The man grabbed my arm and jerked me into his lap. One of my heels broke off, sending me right into this pervert's lap. His erection slammed into my cheek, way too near my mouth for my comfort.
Then I heard a crisp slap. My ass stung viciously and I realized he'd just smacked my ass. While I flailed about to escape, he laughed and shoved my face into his smelly crotch. The panic paralyzed me.
Suddenly the slam of a door sounded through the room. I was thrown to the floor in a pile of terrified, confused tears. The girls screamed and went running for the door.
"Get the fuck out!" someone yelled.
My head finally tipped towards the sounds and I locked eyes with James. He stood by the busted door, eyes burning indignantly and his chest heaving.
I scrambled to get to my feet, but not before the bald guy went brawling toward James. By the time I was standing on my broken shoe, James had punched the man down and kicked him right in his face.
The man tried to get up again. An animalistic growl tore out of James. His focus narrowed on the struggling man at his feet. Lifting his leg back, he threw his shoe forward into the man's ribs. He screamed but James continued to kick him.
I just stood and watched, shivering and terrified.
A hand grabbed my arm and tugged me for the door. I blinked.
James looked down at me and barked, "Come on! We have to go before more come."
My feet stumbled along after him. My eyes were open but unseeing. Over and over, the incident replayed in my mind. His reeking lap and the stifling hotness of the room. The feel of his dirty hands crawling over me.
Everything just faded away.