Page 142 of Pandora's Pleasure
She fixed the chain around her breasts and looked up. “Want me to orchestrate a fantasy?”
“Um, no. How long have you been a member?”
“Why?”
“I’m curious.”
“You want a threesome with your boyfriend?” She smirked. “I can do that.”
“No. But thank you.” I stared at her sparkling pinky ring.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Have you any idea what they’ll do to you?”
“What?”
I took a deep breath. “How long have you worked for Galante?”
She froze; her expression panic-stricken.
Shit.
She really did work for Galante.
“You’re in so much trouble,” I said.
She swallowed hard.
“I can help you, Phoebe.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“So it’s fine for me to go tell one of the butlers here?”
She shook her head. “You’re wrong.”
“See you later, Phoebe.” I went to leave. “Have fun.”
“Please don’t say anything,” she said breathlessly.
I looked back at her. “How much does he pay you?”
“Hardly anything. Galante fucking owns me.”
“Why?”
“I was turning tricks at a private club. He threatened to give the evidence to the police.”
“Wouldn’t that be safer for you than this?”
She was a spy at Vanguard, reporting back to Galante. The risk she was taking was unthinkable. Some of Washington’s most powerful men undoubtedly frequented the club. I dreaded to think of what would happen to anyone who betrayed their secrets.
“I’ll pay you,” she stuttered. “I don’t have a lot but—”
“I don’t want money. I want to help you.”
“Why?”
