Own My Soul (Sixty Days 3)

This is a firm notice of cancellation. Our existing sixty-day girl is no longer available for one on one sessions, no matter what bookings have been accepted in principle. Any on site bookings are now null and void. Please withdraw your interest and await the next sixty-day proposition before taking ANY further bidding or viewing action. Regards, in utmost professional integrity, BG.

I clicked through the list of bookings, closing them down one by one.

This was different to the Annabel Fisher castoff. Stern. Calculated. Not replaced by any forthcoming alternative on the bidding front.

They wouldn’t be expecting this, not any of the client base. Not after the recent Paige webcam shows. Not after seeing how engaged with the girl I was myself — the promise of what was on the table for them in equal measure. They’d have to soak it up and keep their distance. That or get ridiculously caught up in the crossfire of two business partners at war.

Drake would be incensed that I’d gone direct to our associates. Incensed that I’d attempted to undermine him. I could picture it, him cursing and hissing and swearing to stamp out my very name for bringing our conflict into the professional eye, but what choice did I have?

He’d left me none.

It didn’t take long before the response messages started appearing. They came through thick and fast, a whole raft littered with a whole host of question marks. I laughed as I pictured the randomness of events from the clients’ perspectives, having come to know my operational prowess over such a long time. Professional conduct in business was usually my primary focus through life, yet just a few days around Paige Emmerson had my entire customer base finding their arrangements shattered with no given reason as to why.

There was no solid business reason why, and no reason whatsoever I could hand over. I certainly couldn’t ping the masses with some gushing outpouring of personal affection.

I was outside on the back porch, finding solace in a fresh gulp of cigarette smoke when my phone took a break from question mark pings and delivered a regular text message. Another from Eric on another random number.

Arrived in Preston. Checked into hotel and waiting for a call. I saw the notification went out. Fuck, bro, you were dead fucking set. Still can’t quite believe it.

It felt bizarre to feel the smile on my face. My fingers replied quite happily. Believe it, brother. I was dead fucking set. She’s not for the bidders, whatever the cost.

Whatever the cost was right.

I knew it in the depths of me. Paige Emmerson was exactly what I wanted, whatever risks came off the back of obtaining her.

I was feeling strangely elated by my grand gesture when I opted to send a direct message to Drake through the encrypted portal. It was simple. Bold and purposeful. Hopefully enough for him to back down and loosen his grip on the girl who was fast causing me to lose mine.

Send her back, before I bring more client carnage to the table.

The viewed icon showed in a flash, but nothing more. Read, but not replied to.

He should send her back. If he had any sense in that crazy fucked up mind of his, he’d ship her back down to me in a heartbeat. For the sake of money, and business, and client relationships, and all of the potential damage I was willing to wreak after so many years of building an empire, there was no way a man like Drake could underestimate the strength of my determination. Yet still there was the other side of the coin. His own determination to win the skirmish on the battlefield. Pride and power. They were the two factors also at play in our standoff. Both of us brandishing both with gritted teeth. The whole sorry saga was a mess of two egos at play with different wants.

Different needs.

The next ping that came through was another message from Eric.

I just got a message on the portal from the main man. He’s coming for me tomorrow. In person. No telephone conversation. I’ll be ready.

So, it wasn’t me Drake was inclined to engage with. He wanted my brother.

The notion gave me shivers. A meet up in person with Henry Drake was something there would be no escape from if Eric did an insufficient job of conveying his loyalties. His lies.

Part of me wanted to ping him back and tell him to abandon his part in the whole spectacle, but I couldn’t. I needed him in there. I needed the mole in the undergrowth, keeping an eye on Paige from close proximity should Drake be unwilling to let her go. I needed to put faith in the brother who wanted me to give it to him.

I typed out two little words and hit send. More simple words packed with meaning.