Own My Soul (Sixty Days 3)

“If they’re business partners, I guess we count on it being the same rules across both venues,” I said.

She shrugged. “Like we have much choice. Who the hell knows who they’ll put in with us from one minute to the next. Anyone could be about to drop into this shit show for all that we know.”

She was certainly right on that score.

I watched her eating her fruit as my mind ticked over the coming days. She really was beautiful as she enjoyed her apple. No doubt she’d have a whole raft of people wanting her.

I guess that’s one thing I should have been grateful for, with the whole saga of being abandoned by Mr Amazing so thoroughly. If it was an indication of me not being good enough, that could well mean that I didn’t have the revolving door of men to service that poor Rebecca would have. Far from it.

If I was lucky, maybe I’d only get a few, just enough to cover my pay day and get me back on the beachfront down south.

“I wonder if you’ll get the security guys too,” she speculated as I dropped my apple core back on the tray. “They aren’t too bad, really. Just gotta take their dicks and their shit with the whips.”

I nodded. “Maybe. Seems likely if they’re the people running the webcam shows up here.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s him that’s coming for me,” she said. “Not the big bad wolf. At least, it hasn’t been so far.”

The thought of taking Mr Sinister really did fill me with dread.

She laughed as she saw me visibly shiver. “Not a fan, then?” she asked. “He’s plenty hot enough, just not really my cup of tea.”

“Nor mine,” I said. “I mean he’s attractive… he’s just…”

“Petrifying?” she finished, and I laughed.

“Yeah, something like that. Petrifying enough to want to avoid a session at all cost.”

“He’s the kind of person who’ll jump out on us when we least expect it,” she whispered, and leaned in close. “He seems that kind, always lurking in the shadows ready to charge on in.”

And just like the universe was listening, the door swept open.

We both jumped up to our feet, mouths open, standing like two guilty schoolgirls as Mr Sinister stepped inside.

Only he wasn’t alone.

My mouth dropped open further still as another man stepped inside after him. One I recognised.

One that looked so much like the one who’d stolen my heart and ripped it out of my chest to torture me.

The fire in his eyes. His heavy brows. The slant of his cheekbones, sharp but not quite as pronounced as the man’s who’d captivated me.

His shirt was slick and dark. His suit tight in all the right places. His hair preened and professional even if there was still a swell on the right side of his face around his temple.

“Girls,” Mr Sinister said, and we both managed a solid nod at him. “I’d like you to meet your new associate for the coming days. Trust me, he’s going to be familiar.”

“Yes, sir,” we said in unison, sounding both as surprised as each other as we weighed up the man in front of us.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he said. “I’m sure you recognise him. I’m sure you’re well familiar with him after your time down south.”

And I knew it. I knew it before it was even said aloud.

Mr Sinister pushed the other man a step forward and my eyes crept up the full length of him, soaking in the familiarity of his stance with every breath in me.

“Girls,” Mr Sin said again, and this time I was ready. “I’d like you to meet Mr Grant’s younger brother. Soon to be sir to you.”Chapter SixteenBrandonThe afternoon was looming bright over the front lawn as I retraced my childhood footsteps around the flower border. The same border with the same array of plants I’d skirted all those years ago. Only way back then I didn’t have lungs full of cigarette smoke on my travels.

Frederick was still in the house, most likely watching from the window as I digested his insight. Insight I should have obtained back when it really mattered.

Life would have turned out a whole load fucking differently if I had.

I was used to my gut being tight with all this ocean of crud lapping around me, but I wasn’t used to the stab of utter horror in my chest. A pang deadly in its potency. Because that’s what it was. That’s what this whole trip was turning into as it plunged back into the vaults of history — deadly in its potency.

It seemed it already had been.

My stomach was still gurgling in protest at the lunch I’d forced down into it. Beans on toast. A meal Frederick had served up with the same old faithful smile on his face as he had so many times before.