Page 64 of The Professional
Montague sat at the bar, a beer in his hand and his thumb tapping at his phone. He paused when Forrest entered and cold eyes glanced up at him. “About time,” Montague growled, shoving himself to his feet.
For once, he wasn’t dressed in a suit that shouted money. He wore a pair of loose jeans and a baseball shirt, with his hair void of any of the disgusting product he always used. A brown leather overnight bag sat beside the stool—a cold reminder that he’d be with Forrest the entire night.
Only one other client sat in the room, a young woman who nervously played with her dress. She didn’t bother to look up at them. A first timer.
Forrest’s smile waivered, but he kept it there like a professional. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Eric. Shall we go to my room?”
“I’m a busy man. Don’t waste my time again.” He grabbed his bag and strode past Forrest, knocking his shoulder into Forrest’s with enough force to make him stumble. The bartender, some new guy Rourke had hired, frowned at the hit, but Forrest waved it off. He didn’t want the newbie reporting back to the boss.
Forrest followed Montague up the stairs and past Angel heading in the opposite direction. Angel frowned at them, a worried crease forming in the middle of his forehead.
Forrest allowed himself to smile sadly because he couldn’t hide his fear from the one person who understood the anxiety. His heart thudded against his ribs, and the moment Montague stepped into his room, Forrest knew there was no escape. He just needed to get through this night.
He followed Montague in, wincing when he twisted to look at him. “Why were you late?” he hissed.
Smile, Forrest reminded himself. “I really am sorry, Mon—Eric. I was running late with my previous client.”
Montague took two large steps forward and was in front of Forrest in a blink of an eye. He grabbed Forrest’s face between his fingers, squeezing hard enough to make a whimper escape his lips. “Don’t mention other men when you’re with me, do you understand?”
Forrest curled his fingers around Montague’s wrist and gripped it tightly. He couldn’t speak with how hard Montague held him, and as though he realized, Montague released him and took a step back.
Forrest inhaled and touched still aching cheeks.
Montague’s chilling smile made Forrest shiver. “We’re spending the night together, Forrest, and I expect you to do everything I want.” He stepped closer again, the sickly smell of his cologne making bile rise in Forrest’s throat. Montague cupped Forrest’s cheek, the feel of his skin making Forrest’s stomach churn. “I’m going to bruise that pretty skin of yours.”
Forrest raised his chin, fear shadowed by the sparking anger inside him. “As per the Virtue’s rules, bruising is not permitted unless it’s been discussed with Rourke, the manager of the—”
The backhanded slap came quick and hard and Forrest went flying into the door with a crash. He laid a palm over his cheek and glanced back at Montague with wide eyes.
“If I want to fucking bruise you, I will. You’re mine while I’m paying, do you understand?”
Forrest straightened. He had his back pressed against the door with nowhere else to go, but the solidness of the wood gave him courage. If he needed to escape, the handle was right there. With the panic button on the other side of the room, closer to the bed, there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d get near it. “No. Rules have been put in place for a reason, Eric, and they won’t be broken. If you wish to discuss these rules, I can arrange a meeting for you with Mr. Tormey. However, you should know that I don’t participate in sadism. He’d need to find you a new professional.”
Montague inched closer, his steps calm and lacking rage, so Forrest didn’t move. His breath caught in his chest. The tender smile on Montague’s lips set off warning bells in Forrest’s head, but he waited for his next move.
Forrest’s cheek throbbed, a reminder that Montague could easily turn to violence, and his instincts demanded he leave.Now.He didn’t, though. He’d dealt with men like this before, and he knew how to sooth a tense situation. Keeping his voice low and peaceful was the key.
“Eric, let’s not do this, okay?” Forrest’s mouth swept up in the sweetest smile he owned, and he laid his palm on Montague’s arm. “I don’t want you to be kicked out of the Virtue.”
Montague’s stare felt like a thousand knives being thrown in Forrest’s direction, and he found it hard not to flinch under the cold eyes. “I’m going to destroy you.”
Fuck. Forrest was in trouble. His hand hadn’t reached halfway to the door handle before Montague grabbed him by the back of the neck and threw him across the room.
Chapter Thirteen
Rourke stroked his chin in thought as he stared down at the papers in his hands. On them were expenses requested by the whores, and he was the one who got to decide which ones were granted. Over half of the items were ridiculous, ranging from specialized goat milk soap to the latest vibrating cock ring. Only the professionals who pulled in the big bucks got what they wanted without Rourke seriously considering whether it was worth the Virtue’s money or not.
Someone knocked on the door, and Rourke sighed. “Come in.”
Alice stuck her head in the room and hesitated. Her blond hair had been curled recently, and it gave her a pixie look with her soft red cheeks and pale skin. Rourke wasn’t into women, but he could see why men were interested in her. The only thing that ruined her looks was her attitude. Since Rourke joined the Virtue, she’d barely said a word to him. Rourke suspected she didn’t like his strict rules and her inability to get her own way now that Terrance wasn’t fully in charge.
“Alice,” Rourke greeted, stacking the papers to the side of his desk. “How can I help you?”
She shifted farther into the room and closed the door behind her with a gentlesnick, before wringing her hands together in an uncharacteristic move that had Rourke instantly suspicious. Her usual high and mighty attitude gave her a bad reputation, but tonight it didn’t exist, and the nervousness didn’t look right on her.
She swiped at her bangs and moved closer to the desk. She wore a pure-white low-back teddy made of lace, with a transparent piece of material that hung on her shoulders as though it would offer some decorum. For a short second, Rourke wondered if this was her attempt to seduce him, but Alice always wore her sexy garments around the Virtue without an ounce of shame.
A ring glinted on her middle finger of her left hand. It was a simple thin band that Rourke knew for a fact Terrance bought her as agift.
