Very Wicked Things (Briarwood Academy 2)

“He’s waiting in the back office,” he said, shooing me past men working on cars.

Head down and eyes averted, I made it to the office door, carrying the duffle. A bead of sweat popped out over my lips and I hurriedly licked it off.

The bodyguard who stood outside the door let me in. I walked inside, the snick of the door behind me sounding final. I could die tonight. Right here in this office.

My gaze found Alexander’s. Once again, he sat behind his desk, looking handsome wearing a brown tailored suit. It seemed the seedy underworld hadn’t taken its toll on his outward appearance.

“Katerina,” he said, rising from his seat and coming around to meet me. “You came.”

“Didn’t want to die,” I said, entering and taking a seat. He sat back on the edge of his desk, and I estimated there was at least three feet between us. I wanted a continent.

My shoulders felt tight and I rolled them.

He crossed his hands, resting them against his thigh, seeming normal and sane. But I knew he wasn’t. “I hope you have good news for me, yes? Did you find new buyers at your fancy school?”

I wiped my clammy hands on my pants. “No one wanted the eight-balls.”

A moue of disappointment settled on his lips. “That is unfortunate. And hard to believe.” He picked at his manicured nails. “It saddens me to have to do what needs to be done, but you’ve left me no option. Whatever happens is because you allowed it. Not me. I am not an unreasonable man. Remember that.” He smiled. “Did you know that every Monday at nine, Sarah and her friend…Heather-Lynn I believe…walk to the coffee shop on Palmer Street for a book club meeting. They stay for an hour usually. It’s five blocks from your house. Anything could happen to them on the way home. They could be mugged or raped or worse.”

“Yes,” I whispered, imagining them laughing as they made their weekly run. Only this time they’re followed by Blondie and Red.

“That’s tomorrow, and I assure you, one of them will not return home. Because of you. Because you can’t find one of your filthy rich friends to buy product. You don’t love your family very much, do you?” He shot me a look loaded with disdain. “You didn’t love your mother either.”

Panic. The room spun, corkscrewing like a top. I leaned over the bag and put my head between my legs, breathing, breathing, taking in air because it was all emptied from the room by his presence. I closed my eyes and concentrated, hating to be weak in from of him. And the guilt hit. I hadn’t protected mama. I’d been paralyzed with fear, afraid he’d turn on me, make me his punching bag or worse.

“Sit up, please. You’re annoying me,” he bit out, his voice like sharp like a knife. “Where is the tough girl I raised?”

I sat up, nostrils flaring. “You didn’t raise me. Never.”

“Ah, there she is. Much better,” he said, walking toward me.

I clenched my fists and drew up, waiting for him to hit me or something, but he walked past me to the door, the swish of his expensive slacks loud in my ears. “Leave the product on the desk, please,” he said, opening the door.

This was too easy.

I swallowed. “Wait, please. Maybe I can try again. Maybe—”

He slapped his hand against the door, and I jerked in my seat. “There are no second chances. You’ll face the consequences like everyone else.”

I stuttered, “I—I have another way to get you your money.”

He leaned his broad shoulder against the door and waved his hand at me. “Keep talking.”

“I can’t sell drugs.” I fought back nausea. “But, I—I can sell myself.”

I don’t think many people surprise my father, but those words did.

His eyes flared. Straightening up from the door, he came at me fast, making me jump at the suddenness. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me up out of my seat and toward him, until we touched, hip to hip. Revulsion swept over me because he had a hard-on.

“Is my daughter a whore?” he said in a low tone, a gleam in his eyes that tripled my fear.

I shook my head furiously, fighting down the urge to scream.

“Why then?” he asked, eyes narrowed, hands tightening on my wrists.

I licked my lips. “At least with my body, it’s mine. My decision. And I’m not hurting anyone else. And if I get caught, the prison time is less than selling drugs.”

“Ah, how very naïve you are. There are much worse things than jail.” He ran his nose up my neck. “And your heart is flying, little Katerina. Like a little bird. I don’t think you quite have what it takes to be a whore.”

“Not everyone wants a girl on the corner,” I managed to say.

He considered this. “True. I have clients who require unique things. They have…how do you say….proclivities?”

I couldn’t stop the shudder that racked my body.

“Are you still a virgin?” he asked, interest flaring.

I met his gaze head-on. “Yes, I—”

“Don’t lie,” he said, placing his hands around my neck with enough pressure my eyes bulged. Blood rushed to my face, and my mouth opened to suck in more air. Seconds passed and black dots danced in from of my eyes.

“Are you a virgin?”

I couldn’t speak, but I nodded, my mouth gasping for what little oxygen he allowed. The room spun again and darkened this time. I estimated I had less than a minute of staying conscious.