Page 42 of King of Desire

Not forever. But long enough to run my cock dry and get her brother the surgery he needs.

I fiddle with the phone. It’s a delicate ask. I want to make you my wife…temporarily.

Then again, she gets some major bonuses.

I tap the phone on the desk. Do I call her? Wait until Monday? I fucking hate indecision and in my business life, I work on instinct that never leads me astray, but this is different.

I pick up the phone and tap the screen, searching my contacts I find her name.

Christ, even looking at her name typed in my contacts makes me warm. I’m about to press her name and call her when a call comes through.

I blink a few times, my brother Killian’s name popping up on the screen.

I hit the accept button. “What?” I ask, as I place the phone to my ear.

“You’re a fucking prick you know that?”

“Same to you,” I rumble. But I know he’s right. I’m being unnecessarily harsh. And as Killian never calls on a Saturday afternoon, something is up. “It’s not two in the morning, so I’m assuming this is a social call?”

He snorts. “I never make social calls. Waste of time.”

“So it’s business then?”

“Personal,” he rumbles.

I’m more confused than ever and my head gives another throb, so I rub my temple. “Get to the point, Killian.”

“It’s Honeyeh.”

My blood runs cold. “What about Honeyeh?”

“You know how Mason asked me to watch Dimitri’s whorehouses?”

I stand, nearly crawling out of my skin. “Killian?” I can hear the question in my voice, the way I’m asking him not to say what I think he’s going to say.

He makes this rumble of regret and my entire body clenches.

“I saw her go in, Triston, makeup running down her face as she cried. She was between two men, each of them holding an arm…”

I jerk open my laptop, slamming the phone on the desk as I hit the button for the speaker.

My fingers fly over the keys as I pull up Dimitri’s website on the dark web.

It doesn’t fucking take much. Honeyeh’s at the top of the page. One night with her, bidding starts at fifty grand. Winner gets her virginity.

“What the actual fucking fuck?!” I roar, my fist coming down on the top of my desk.

“What is it?” Killian asks.

“He’s selling her,” I spit through clenched teeth. Does this have something to do with me? “Was she struggling? Did she look forced?”

“She looked really sad,” Killian answers. “And a bit panicked.”

“Anyone else with her?”

“Some little blonde chick.”

My mouth drops open. Brittany. Did Brittany put her up to this? “Where are you? I’m coming to you.”

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