My skin crawls, a thousand beetles skittering around under the flesh. “I may be open to funding someone with promise,” he leers, slipping his jacket down his arms. “I’d have to see what it is I’m paying for, of course.”
Thud.
“A demonstration?” I straighten my spine, the festering darkness that lives inside me being summoned to the surface.
“Yes,” he licks his lips, “a demonstration.”
“You want me to dance for you?” I give him the benefit of the doubt, but it’s clear what he wants from me—what’s expected.
It’s a disgrace that I’ve been served up to this old man. His daughter is my peer.
I came tonight with a price tag and didn’t even know it. How many other girls are paying for their place here tonight?
Snorting a callous laugh, he narrows his eyes on me. “Don’t be naïve, child. I want to see your fucking body. Take off the dress.”
My breathing hitches. A buzzing sounds in my head.
“I’m not property. My body isn’t for sale,” I push out, the vulgar pig’s entitlement making me want to cut his balls off and drop them in his wife’s cocktail glass like a pair of olives.
With this animal as her father, it’s no wonder Jewel has issues.
He moves in on me, and I take a step back, knowing I have nowhere to run.
My ass hits the desk. Miss Georgina locked me inside this room with a predator.
“Everyone is for sale, we just need to find your price.”
His hand reaches out, cupping my breast. I smack it away, gasping in shock at his audacity. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I warn.
His beady stare turns into a scowl. “A feisty one, are we?”
When he takes a second pass, his hand rougher, launching at me, tugging at my dress, tearing the thin strap, it catches me off guard.
He’s stronger than he looks and overpowers me for a couple seconds before I gain advantage.
Shoving him, I turn my body, putting a sliver of space between us. “Don’t touch me,” I holler, the disbelief that this is happening causing my breathing to become labored.
“Stop playing hard to get. It’s unbecoming,” he snipes.
My head clouds. His movement is like slow motion. Once again, his hands reach toward me.
I counter his move, grabbing his wrist and slamming his hand down on the desk. Swiping up a letter opener from the pencil holder, I jam it through his hand with all the force of anger and disgust I possess.
It pierces through his skin, cartilage, and muscle, until the shiny silver blade stands upright inside him. I back away, my eyes wide and lungs taxed.
His shriek is delayed, his body taking its time registering the gravity of what just occurred.
“Get this out of me,” he squeals like the pig he is.
Breathe, I will myself, a rush of adrenaline empowering me.
“I bet you didn’t think it would be you getting penetrated tonight,” I mock, shoving my hand into his breast pocket, retrieving a key.
Blood drips from the table, his hand impaled there. His face pales, shock rendering him speechless.
When I open the door, the corridor is empty.
My broken dress strap causes the fabric to gape, exposing me. I pull it together, my feet faltering when I see Jewel standing by the entryway.
I need to walk past her to get to the exit.
I debate trying to find another direction when her gaze lands on me, assessing what she’s seeing. Her chest begins to rapidly rise and fall, her eyes glossing over with tears.
She knows—she knows what he is and what just played out. I don’t want to pass her and have everyone see me looking dishevelled. I’m no one’s victim.
Slipping her glittering shawl from her shoulders, she holds it out to me. A moment passes between us before I take her offering. It’s an understanding that she’s not responsible or part of her father’s predatory actions.
“Thank you.” I wrap the material around my shoulders, hiding the destroyed dress and red marks discoloring the skin on my arms. “Have you seen Georgina?” I ask her.
She sniffles, folding her small arms under her breasts. “She went to the bathroom.” She tilts her head in the direction of the lady’s room.
Perfect.
There’s a girl at the mirror fixing her lipstick and one washing her hands when I get in there.
One stall door is closed.
Turning to the girls, I muster up my cruellest tone. “Out,” I snap at them, narrowing my eyes and baring teeth, my veins still full of adrenaline and fury.
They hurry to exit, and I flick the bolt at the top of the door so no one else can enter.
The stall door opens tentatively, and Georgina holds her hands up in front of her chest in a defensive manner. “I’m sorry, Alyssa,” she attempts to placate.
“What the hell was that?” I growl, images of me tearing her hair out dancing through my mind.