It’s early the following afternoon, after my visit with Ryan, and I’m walking through the grounds trying to find a spot to call Jess. I need to debrief, and Jess is the only person I can talk to about this. She’s the only person I trust.
“What do you know about Ryan Hamden?” I ask after we get our greetings out of the way. The first rule of war is to know your opponent, so I’m keen to learn as much as I can about him from a perspective other than Jaxon’s.
“As in Jaxon’s business partner? Not much. Why?”
“Can you see what you can find out for me? There’s something about him I don’t like, and Jaxon asked for my help getting him to confess to something.”
“What?” Jess asks, her voice laced with curiosity.
“I’ll tell you about it when I see you,” I say, not wanting to go into too much detail. “I have to go, but I’ll call you in a few days, okay?”
“Sure,” she says. “But you’re beginning to worry me. Stay safe, okay?”
“I’ll try my best.”
I press END, then notice a missed call from Mom and also a text asking me how I am. Like you really care. I can’t keep the bitterness out of my thoughts. Quickly I text back that I’m fine and I’ll call her when I can. I feel a slight sense of guilt as I slide the phone back into my pocket, knowing I have no intention of calling her anytime soon.
Later that evening, at Jaxon’s request, I get ready to go out for dinner. He’s waiting for me when I walk into the sitting room. He eyes my dress, his gaze moving over my body appreciatively before something shifts in his expression. It’s like a wall has gone up and just like that, he’s devoid of any emotion.
“We’re going to be late,” he mutters. I follow him out to his car. The silver paint of the Mercedes C320 glistens in the moonlight. What’s his problem? Just when I think I’m getting somewhere with him, he shuts down. I can’t figure him out. I glance up at the sky. Maybe the full moon is responsible? I suppress a chuckle as I open the door.
“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to spark conversation. I slide into the passenger seat and buckle my seatbelt.
“Out,” he replies, revving the engine. He slams it into reverse, the wheels spinning as he accelerates off the property. I breathe in sharply, my hands gripping the sides of the seat. “I’ve arranged for us to have dinner with a couple of my closest friends. You’ll like them, trust me.” He pauses before adding, “They’re very keen to meet you.”
His tone makes me nervous, as does his attitude. One minute he can’t even look at me, and the next he’s excited to introduce me to friends? My head aches from trying to unscramble his signals.
Dinner is at a private home on the beach down in Malibu. The mansion is nearly all windows, set on a huge property on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. I have to consciously keep my mouth shut as we walk through the foyer to avoid my jaw hitting the floor. This place makes Jaxon’s mansion look like a dive.
“Come with me,” he commands. He holds out his hand. I take it, and knots form in my stomach as I follow him through the foyer. We go up an extravagant staircase to the second floor. Since we walked inside, we’ve passed nobody. Not even staff. Where are his friends we’re supposed to be dining with?
“I thought we were having dinner,” I say. He has that look in his eyes again.
“We are.” He smirks and leads me down a hallway, swinging open a door on the left. “You are on the menu.”
Me? As I walk inside, it hits me what he’s referring to. I’m the only woman in a room full of men. There must be twenty men here, of all ages, all dressed impeccably in suits.
In the middle of the room sits a small stage. A shiver races down my spine. Surely he’s not expecting me to perform for all these men? I’m not a stripper. Or a whore.
Aren’t you?
It’s hardly the same. I’m doing what I’m doing for the sake of my career. Even as I think the words, I know how ridiculous they sound. I’m the walking definition of a prostitute, no matter how much I try to kid myself.
“What do you mean?” I ask. I’m not sure I want him to elaborate. Every pair of eyes in the room falls on us. I tug at the hem of my dress, suddenly feeling vulnerable. I know what they’re all thinking. They’re looking at me like I’m a piece of meat.
Jaxon turns to me, his lips twitching into a smile. “Have you ever been watched, Charlotte?”
“Watched?” I whisper, my voice breaking. Watched doing what?
“Yes,” he says.
His eyes almost mock me as he leads me over to the stage. His fingers curve around the nape of my neck. I close my eyes, trying so hard to ignore the intense desire I feel. Even in a room full of men, I can’t deny how much I need him.
Slowly he backs me up against the stage. My legs shift apart
as he presses himself against me. His erection rubs against my thigh, teasing me. My body responds. I rock myself against him as his mouth finds mine. Out of the corner of my eye I see them, surrounding us, watching, waiting.
I gasp, my head tilting back as he peels the dress from my body. His hands roughly cup my breasts as he rolls his fingers over my hard nipples. His hands move around to my back as he lifts me onto the cold surface of the stage. He nudges my legs apart, laying me back.