Page 19 of Voyeur
This was my life, and I would never be the good girl my parents had groomed me to be. The old Zoey Marbella was dead.
I stood near the backroom, where Roman and Carter usually disappeared to. It didn’t take them long to find me, making a beeline to me. Straight to business, I bet. I acted as if I wasn’t waiting for them, taking my time in meeting their stares.
Roman made no moves to hide how he watched me, and neither did Carter. Carter’s green eyes twinkled in the dim lighting, traveling from my feet, all the way up to my chest, and finally resting on my face. Wearing what I was wearing, I was just another object of desire; I wasn’t stupid enough to think I meant anything to them.
“I’d say fancy meeting you here,” I spoke above the music, “but apparently you know my schedule, and you won’t let me work weekends.” I folded my arms over my chest, hoping I radiated an attitude that told both Roman and Carter I wasn’t having it, that I wasn’t happy with the intrusion into my life.
Shrugging beneath his black suit, Roman said, “What can I say? I don’t like the thought of anyone else leering at you.”
“Only you, right?” I asked. “Well, you and Carter.”
Roman’s mouth thinned into a line, and he said nothing. Hopefully he picked up on my attitude, realized I was not happy at all.
I took a step closer to him, my nose picking up on his scent: musky, manly… the very definition of sex on two legs. A part of me wanted Roman to take me by the throat, push me backward, into the backroom, and tell me how it was going to be.
But that wasn’t what tonight was about. Tonight was me giving both Roman and Carter the metaphorical middle finger.
“Tell me something,” I purred, slowly reaching a hand out to touch the satin tie hanging around Roman’s neck. The man himself hardly blinked, though I did notice Carter shifting his weight, leaning closer to the both of us, probably ready to rip me off him if Roman should give the word. “Why me?”
Buying the Dollhouse, forcing Autumn to only give me two days a week—it just felt like too much. Why?
He grabbed my wrist, slowly pulling my hand off his tie, though he did not let go. His fingers wrapped around me hard, rough, and with the motion, I could see the muscles on his wrist straining under his sleeve. “Because,” Roman whispered back, his eyes two black, soulless pits, “you’re mine.”
My heart skipped a beat at that. Such finality in his words, like anything I could do after this was only fighting the inevitable. Me and him. Him and I. Together. Like it was written in the stars before we’d even met: I would belong to him in every possible way. Heart, mind, soul, and body.
Especially that last one.
Though a huge part of me wanted to find the nearest place to sit my ass down and spread my legs for him, I yanked my hand out of his grasp. On the stage, the woman was about done; her song was over, and she was bending over, picking up the tips that had been thrown at her while she was dancing.
“I actually don’t belong to anyone,” I said, seconds from showing him exactly that.
I passed the woman walking off the stage—I forget her name. I think it might be Candy or something—and Carter made a move to stop me, but Roman held up a hand, freezing him where he stood. Roman wore a scowl, but he wasn’t stopping me.
Well, this should be fun, right?
Chapter Six – Roman
A glimmer in her gaze told me Zoey felt extra defiant tonight, and though the last thing I wanted her to do was anything that would draw eyes to her, I let her go. I might make her regret her decision to do whatever it was she planned on doing, but that would be later.
This dance, this hunt… I found I enjoyed it. Zoey had become the bright light in my life. When I did jobs, when I tasted metal in the air, when I cleaned my guns—my mind always found a way to go back to her.
I would be the first to admit that my fascination with her was not rooted in anything sane. When you did what I did, when you saw what I saw on an almost daily basis, sanity was the farthest thing from your mind. Me? I’d long since learned to revel in the insanity, to accept it like a long-lost friend, back after a lifetime apart.
Zoey truly had no idea who she threatened to rile up, but she would learn. This, me buying the Dollhouse, me telling Autumn when to schedule her, it was all the lead up to something else, something I had never done before.
Everything had always been under the Dollhouse’s roof. Carter and the girls. Lately, though, I’d been having thoughts. What if I wanted more?
I turned, watching as Zoey walked up the stage. Annoyance ticked through me; how dare that girl think she could waltz onto that stage and put on a show as if she was just another worker at this shithole? I meant what I said when I said Zoey was mine; the girl would see it eventually and know everything she did would be under my supervision.
“What the fuck is she doing?” Carter asked, watching as she sauntered up to the pole. The lights dimmed over her, a new song playing as she started to dance.
And by dance, I really meant dance. Not strip, like some of these women did. The pole was only a backdrop to her movements; the way she moved her hips, running her hands up and down her body… she didn’t need the pole. She was a goddess on the stage, her pink hair matching her shoes, and even though the dance was not like anything the other girls did here, the men sitting around the stage were still drooling over her like she was a tall glass of cool water and they’d just walked ten miles in the desert.
Her hand gripped the pole, and she twirled herself around it once; probably only to lay her eyes on me, to see my reaction. It was somewhere between a scowl and a sneer. The former was towards her and her little dance, while the sneer was for the men in the audience. There weren’t many. There would’ve been a lot more if tonight was a Friday night, but that did not soothe the anger I felt rising inside.
This girl… she tempted my patience, pulled it taut and threatened to snap it completely.
Men started to toss bills onto the stage as she dipped down to her knees, practically crawling toward them, though she never dropped off the stage. Zoey ran her hands through her hair, arching her back as she bent backward, showing off just how flexible she was, the side with her tattoo proudly on display to any and all.
