Page 17 of Wreck Me

‘I’ll have a glass waiting for you,’ Avery promises, sliding into the vanity station next to mine, reaching for her face powder.

‘Thanks.’ I don’t need it. Not like I did the first night. But I’ve developed a taste for it, along with my new found love of luxurious lingerie.

The familiar scent of orchids fills my senses as I enter the main lounge. Avery wasn't joking. The place is packed. I scan the room, hating myself but unable to stop.

There’s no sign of James, but I spot his brothers. Disappointment seeps into my soul.

Christopher Cole is perched by the long ebony bar sipping something small and potent. He’s immersed in conversation with several other regulars. My boss is a millionaire. He doesn’t need to be here. Which means hewantsto be here.

His head twists in my direction, gleaming eyes settle on the silk between my legs. and he offers one swift nod of what looks like approval. It would appear my new boss and I shares similar taste in lingerie.

A cold shiver of apprehension steals over my spine.

Chapter Ten

SCARLETT

I strut across the main stage in six-inch platinum peep-toe stilettos that cross and tie at my ankles. Grabbing the pole, I lift a thigh and hook the back of my knee around the cool chrome, arching backwards until I’m upside down.

Thank God the candy-floss-coloured wig is pinned firmly in place. The low hum of conversation dips as men gravitate towards the stage.

I spin and twist and hoist myself upwards again, my biceps flexing as I climb higher and higher until I’m almost at the top.

My eyes fall back to the Beckett brothers. The youngest one is staring at me like he hasn’t eaten in years. The stern-faced one remains, well, stern-faced. The smiley one is staring at the screen of his phone and typing. The last one motions a passing server to fetch another round of drinks.

Where is James?

With someone who’s too classy to be mistaken for a woman who would accept money for sex?

So why send me flowers?

And why now?

When the music changes, I slide from the pole and strut across the stage to the steps in search of Avery. I could do with a glass of champagne right about now.

As my heel connects with the floor again, a warm hand grips my elbow. I flinch as my head whips round. No one is supposed to touch me. Not without my permission.

Christopher releases his grip and flashes a creepy smile. Tiny hairs prick on the back of my neck. I glance around for Avery but she’s preoccupied with the rock band.

I swallow thickly. Was it naïve to think I could come here and just dance?

Christopher’s hand lifts to graze my cheek. ‘How would you like to make twenty grand right now?’

Twenty grand is half of my credit card debt.

But at what cost to me?

‘I, err…’ Worry slithers into my stomach.

‘Dance for me.’ His eyes darken and fall to my lips. ‘In one of the private rooms.’

We both know what he’s asking for, and it isn't a dance.

My chest tightens. This man pays my wages. If I refuse him, will I still have a job?

‘Okay.’ he says brushing a stray standoff hair from my face. I flinch. . ‘You drive a hard bargain. I’ll make it twenty-five grand.’ He says it like it’s a done deal.

I battle to regulate my breathing and buy myself time to find the words to refuse him without risking everything.

---