Page 45 of King of Desire

“The money…” I ask, attempting to control the panic.

“Will be yours as soon as it’s done.”

“But how do I know you’ll pay me?” I ask, trying to tug out of his grasp.

He stops, his hand tightening. “I am a man of my word. I want you to be a woman of yours.”

That cuts me deep and silences me.

He turns us into a room on the left, small and old, with a worn couch that makes me wince.

He lets go of my elbow to grab my purse. “Hey,” I start as he unzips it, pulling out my phone. “It was in the contract. This will be returned to you tomorrow morning.” And then he’s gone.

I don’t even want to sit on the couch. Instead, I stand in the middle of the room hugging myself.

But I don’t have long to dwell.

Not five minutes later, three women walk into the room.

One of them carries a plate with a greasy sandwich. The other a basket with a curling iron and makeup.

I almost laugh hysterically.

The similarities and difference to last night punch me in the gut. I’m not Cinderella tonight. It won’t be beautiful dresses and a luxury house. Tonight, I’m just a whore.

And just like last night, this will end with a man undressing me, but he won’t stop when he learns I’m a virgin.

He likely won’t be kind.

I cover my mouth as one of the women slaps the plate on a table in the corner. “When’s the last time you shaved?” Her accent is even thicker than Dimitri’s.

“I was waxed yesterday.”

“Good. Less for me to do.” And then she sits on the couch, pulling out some see-through white lingerie. “Eat first.”

“I’m not hungry,” I whisper.

“Orders. Eat.” She points at the plate.

I think I might throw up, but I cross to the plate and take a bite.

It’s some heavy, greasy meat slapped between two pieces of bread. I can barely swallow as I grab the bottle of water, washing it down my throat.

Apparently, the single bite is enough to satisfy them, and they get to work.

My hair is curled again, my legs inspected, the makeup applied to my face.

That’s when a fourth woman enters. “Time for your check-up.”

I turn to her, my brow furrowed. Check-up? I don’t know what she could possibly mean when all the other women crowd around me. Two grab my arms and the other two my knees and then I realize.

I gasp, trying to twist out of the chair but their nails dig into me, holding me in place. “Stop,” I cry, knowing that I am in so far over my head.

“You claim you are virgin.” She narrows her gaze at me. “I need to check.”

I freeze. “No one told me about this.”

“You lying?” she asks as she pulls a white device out of her bag, that’s the shape of an egg.

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