Corrupt (Devil's Night 1)

“You look a little happier than the last time I saw you,” she observed.

I nodded, tipping my glass up to her. “This helps.”

“Psh,” she scoffed, setting down her things and hopping into the pool. “That’s not a drink.”

And she poured two quick glasses of the tequila, taking one for herself and handing me the other.

I fought not to turn up my nose, because hard liquor—not mixed with anything else—was agony for me.

However, I wanted to relax—for once—and I didn’t fear the guys or any advantage they would take if I got buzzed. Between the four of them, they wouldn’t need alcohol to subdue me, so if that’s what they were after, I was as good as dead drunk or sober anyway.

I downed the shot, the liquid scorching my throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing again and again as I tried to get rid of the taste my mouth. I didn’t think she’d brought lemons, unfortunately.

God, I was a girl.

Blowing out a breath and getting over the pungent taste, I set the glass down, seeing her refill them.

“So I have to ask,” I started, still forcing down the taste in my mouth. “What’s with the ‘I see lots of men’ line?”

The corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk, and she turned around handing me the shot glass, now full again.

“And I know Will took you upstairs before, and it was Michael the other night?” I went on, giving her a playful look.

She shrugged, looking guilty. “I know lots of men. As in, I get paid to know lots of men.”

Paid? She got paid to know men and spend time with them?

And then my eyes widened, realization hitting. “Ohhh. Right.”

She smiled, blushing as she took her shot.

She was an escort. A prostitute. Wow.

I followed her lead, taking the shot and trying anything to help me wrap my head around that one. Michael had been with her that night. He’d hired her?

“You can’t tell anyone, though.” She pointed at me, her voice thick with the burn of the alcohol. “My clients are mostly wealthy and well-known.”

I set the glass down, stepping out a few inches away from the edge and brushing the surface of the water with my hands.

She had sex with men—and women, now remembering what she said in the elevator—and she got paid for it. And she lived in my building.

I wasn’t sure if that was better than when I thought she was Michael’s girlfriend.

I’d always been a little jealous when Michael had girls around growing up. Even when I was little. I wanted him.

But over time, Michael’s routine was something that never faltered. He took, he enjoyed, and at times, he dated. But no one ever became permanent.

But knowing she was just sex kind of pissed me off, too. She was only floors away at any given time, and he could call her up when whenever he felt the need.

“Don’t worry. I haven’t slept with Michael,” she spoke up as if reading my mind.

I pressed my lips together, shrugging. “Why would I care?”

She snorted. “By the way you were all tongue-tied with him the other night in your pajamas, I gathered you did.”

I dropped my eyes, feeling the water pass between my fingers.

I could ask her why she hadn’t been with him, when I’d seen her go up to his apartment, but I didn’t want to care. It felt weird with her in the building and so close, but Michael wasn’t mine, so it wasn’t my business.