Page 5 of Sugar Baby
I stumble back as his gaze drops to my pussy-region before shooting back up to meet my glare. He clears his throat. “If there is, I’m not in the know.”
Liar.
I debate whether to call him on it, but then I decide I don’t really care. “Whatever. We leave at 1PM sharp. I am punctual, so you had better be too. I'm leaving without you if you are not waiting at the car when I get there.”
He snickers. “Good luck with that, princess.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re a bit of dick, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told. Now, we leave at 1.30PM, in a different car that will only arrive at that time, in case you get any ideas. You can take a bottle of water with you that I will hand to you before we get in the car. You won’t drink anything else or eat anything while you are there. You will stay right next to me the entire time, even if you want to take a piss. Or even ifIwant to take a piss…” He grins at me.
“Ewww…” I make a gagging action to go with the noise.
“You may only speak to Wanda and Lola, no one else. If anyone else tries to initiate contact, they will be told in no uncertain terms where to go. To save yourself the embarrassment, don’t make eye contact with anyone while we’re there. Understood?”
I gape at him. Is he being serious?
Our gaze locks, and I can see that he means every word. With a sinking heart, I nod slowly. Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll get the flu and not have to go now. It sounds like it’s going to be miserable. I can’t let my mum down, though. She wants me to go, it sounds like shefoughtfor me to go, so I need a good excuse not to.
He nods back and then stalks closer to me. “Be a good little girl, and I’ll report back to Daddy that nothing went wrong, and you’ll be free to attend your next soirée. If you do anything that puts me doing my job at risk, I will have you back here so fast, your head will spin. And something tells me he won’t be happy with you.”
Anger boils up inside me and comes out as a hiss in his direction. “I hate you.”
“Oh, I’ve not even started yet, princess,” he says casually, placing his mug down on the counter next to me. “I don’t want to do this anymore than you want me to. But I like it here. I like my job, and this pack. I respect your dad and the way he does things around here. If you fuck with that by being a little brat, then you and me are going to have a problem. Nod if you understand.”
My stomach churns, and I feel sick. My head spins as I glare at him with loathing to my very soul. I knew he was a bit of a dick, he has to be to do his job, but this just goes beyond it all.
Without acknowledging his condescending request, I turn on my heel and leave the kitchen, heading down to my room and slamming the door shut behind me, tears pricking my eyes.
This has gone from bad to worse. The only bright spot is that now that I’ve left the stifling atmosphere in the kitchen, I feel a bit better. Cooler and less sick and dizzy.
“Fucking wanker,” I mutter and fling myself on the bed, crawling under the duvet and allowing myself to cry for my pitiful life that sometimes doesn’t feel like living.
ChapterFive
Atlas
Leaning over the table, staring at the plans like I have been doing for the past half an hour, I look up when Gary walks in, dragging Natalia along next to him. I raise an eyebrow at her altered appearance and run a hand through my dark hair.
“You like?” she drawls, her husky Russian accent sounding even more pronounced.
Straightening up, I give her a critical once-over and then pick up the photo to my right and glance at it, studying it before looking back at Nat.
“Close enough, but you have to work on that accent.” I’m pretty impressed, which is hard to do. The natural blonde Eastern European woman has managed to pull off the look of the raven-haired half Irish, half Italian beauty of Sophia Quinn.
“How’s this? My name is Sophia Quinn.” Nat asks, adopting a passable accent, but it’s not good enough. It has to be perfect.
“More Irish, less Italian,” I instruct. “Listen to her again.”
Gary holds up the phone of the recording Ben managed to get of her talking on her phone a few weeks ago on one of her rare trips out. Her cultured, melodic voice rings out in the main room of the cabin in the woods, on the outskirts of the Quinn compound.
“Try again, Nat.”
“My name is Sophia Quinn,” she says, and this time, it’s damn near perfect.
“You’re a rock star,” I tell her with a broad grin.
She beams, full of accomplishment, but it’s well deserved. For now. I need to keep her happy until she has done this job, and then I don’t give a flying shit.
