Page 13 of Wretched Choices

So, I’m in a gold sequin mini dress with a plunging neckline. The dress ends a few inches below my butt, and if I bend down,everything will be exposed. It doesn’t help that I can’t wear real underwear, only some sort of excuse for a thong.

My hair is down in Hollywood locks, and my makeup is on point. I look at the gold lace-up heels that are two inches higher than I usually like. The outfit he sent, something he made it clear he would do, is actually exquisite. How he knew my size is another question.

I don’t get much time to dwell on it because Ethan is waiting for me in the car. I insisted he shouldn’t come up to my apartment.

After a short ride in the elevator, I walk out of my building and into his waiting car. His Aston Martin is double parked out front. I slide in, my legs hitting the leather seat. The smell of wood and leather fills my nostrils the second I close the door.

I say hi to Ethan, who is eating me with his eyes.

“Take a photo, it’ll last longer.” I tease before buckling myself in.

“Oh, funny one. You look exquisite. It makes me want to reconsider my decisions,” he teases.

“Dream on. You look dashing yourself.” I say, and I mean it. He is wearing all black with a golden tie to match me. This meeting must be a big deal. Which reminds me…

“You never told me who you are meeting with and what I should expect.”

“His name is Tristan Adkins. He’s looking into investing in some big businesses. Expanding into Europe. There will be two other competitors with me. He’ll pick whoever gives the best pitch. Mostly, he’s looking for someone with the same ideology as him. I’m not with his ideology per se, just taking an interest in his offer.”

I say nothing. I know who Tristan Adkins is. Everyone knows. He was on the media radar for a long time, but not mine. Cristian, my colleague, is the one investigating his bigcorporation. I can take notes for him, see if there is something useful and exchange it for a favor.

“Isabel.” Ethan's concerned voice draws my attention to him. “Stay out of trouble tonight.” I smile.

“Me? Oh, come on, Ethan. I’m a journalist. Trouble is in my blood. And you are the one who said I could benefit from tonight.” I smirk.

“Well, I’m fucked, then.”

Our drive is not long, and we arrive at what looks like a Victorian house; a place where only the rich have a right to be. Inside, it is even more luxurious, with a high ceiling and crystal chandeliers. The yellow lights that fill the space are a stark contrast to the all-leather furniture and dark wooden tables and wall panels. A middle-aged man leads us to our table, where Adkinson and six other people are seated. With my hand holding Ethan’s like a good girlfriend should, we walk together.

I smile at the joke Ethan makes, suppressing a giggle when, out of nowhere, the hair on the back of my neck stands. The feeling of someone’s wrath creeps over me. Before I can question it, the reason for that appears in front of me.

Salvatore Catalano.

He is sitting next to the man Ethan is meeting. Our eyes clash, and his blue eyes change in color and emotion. Blue into dark, and from a questioning look to anger, making my heart beat faster. The feeling I shouldn’t be here creeps over me, the darkening of his gaze telling me so many things. Things I can’t understand. I avert my eyes from his and focus on introductions.

I slide into the booth across from Salvatore and his beautiful blond companion. On our way here, Ethan said something that made me want to reevaluate the situation and bolt at the last moment. He told me not to speak unless someone asked me something, but I decided to stay and observe. After all, I do that best. I learned from a young age that women are not to speakunless spoken to and that we need to know what a man wants before even he knows it. But I was rebellious, and that was one of the main reasons I successfully escaped that life and used what I learned to my benefit.

Ethan leans in, whispering in my ear. “They will serve food. You are expected to cut my steak and feed me.”

To everyone else, it looks like he’s kissing my neck. He told me he would do that when needed, just to make things interesting for his host, who is a big voyeur. “I don’t know what else. Just look at what others do and do the same. And don’t get angry. I don’t like this either.”

I exhale slowly and fake a shy smile.

The men sit and talk money, numbers, and business. The one that talks most is Adkins. Ethan is very careful with what he says. He doesn’t seem like he wants to be here. The third man—I didn’t catch his name as my heart was beating at the looks and glares from Salvatore—wants so badly to be in Adkin's pocket that he agrees to everything like a good little puppet.

Salvatore is mostly glaring at Ethan with a murderous look in his eyes, disagreeing with anything he says. The blond with him takes notes and from time to time writes things for him to read.

I, however, am picking my brain and trying to find an excuse for the goosebumps on my body. I run my hand over my bare thighs, trying to control my breathing but failing. When I look across from me, Salvatore’s eyes roam over my body, and I can feel his touch all over again.

“Are you cold?” Ethan whispers in my ear. I avert my look from Salvatore and turn to Ethan.

“No, just a little chill. It will pass.”

He nods, turning his attention from me as he keeps his conversation with the men. When I look back at Salvatore, his jaw is clenched, and if looks could kill, Ethan would be a dead man.

When dinner is served, my relief doesn’t last long, remembering I need to feed Ethan, then things start to heat up. I look around at the dining area and see women feeding men; it’s so ridiculous. Every man has a woman by his side, and for those who don’t, there are women waiting by the bar to serve them.

My gaze catches with the blond across from me, cutting Salvatore's steak into small pieces. He is looking at my hands, doing the same for Ethan.

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