Page 103 of Made for Cyn

“Yes, beauty. She is.”

“That’s ridiculous and horrible,” I say. “She’s a person, not an object.”

“She may be, but every bitch in this building is my territory.”

With wide eyes, I stare at Cyn before I clench my jaw. “Is that right? Every bitch? Including me?”

“Yes.”

Half rising to my feet, I ignore his narrow-eyed warning. “I’m not your territory or your property, and those bitches are people. You should be ashamed of yourself. Is this where you recruit for your business?”

“Rain,” Jig growls, but I ignore him, my eyes locked on Cyn’s cold glare.

“What are you asking?”

“Isn’t that what you do? Prostitution or something?”

Cyn stands so abruptly, I gasp and stumble, falling from my chair to the floor.

Although my ass stings, I don’t feel it as Cyn leans over me with his brows slammed over his eyes. “Where did you hear that?”

“Gossip,” I whisper, my heart in my throat. “Is it true?”

“You think I’m a fucking pimp, Rain? Is that what you’re asking me?” he says, his nostrils flared like a bull.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, equal parts ashamed of my accusation and justified because isn’t he working for someone?

“No?” He cocks his head to the side.

My heart shrivels at his distaste, and I shrink away as he says quietly, “I don’t fucking whore out women for money.”

With that, he drops into his chair, turns from me to Bastion, and says, “Tonight.”

Still sitting on the floor, I glance at Jig, who’s frowning with disapproval before I get up off the floor, but when I think to retreat, leave, gain a moment alone, Cyn grabs my arm and says firmly, “Sit.”

And I do, sitting beside him in silent misery while he ignores me, and I wonder if what I asked is the death knell of what I was hoping would be more.

When the bell rings, Cyn doesn’t so much as look at me as he stalks away, and morosely, I head to gym, confused when I don’t see Jig.

Where did he go?

The rest of the day is lackluster at best, and when I exit at the end of the day, I see the SUV is gone, and so is Iris.

I make my way home with a weary sigh, but when I see Iris isn’t there, I continue on and end up at the bridge.

Oscar never shows, and I exist in misery until I can avoid going home no longer, relieved to see Pam’s car in the drive when I do.

“Hey, sweetie,” she says when I pass by the kitchen, “you just missed your dad. They said they would call again in a few days.”

With a pang of disappointment, I smile feebly, contemplating sitting down when John enters with a moody expression. Instead, I head up to my room and finish my homework glumly.

The following day, Cyn is absent, as are the guys, and I don’t hear from him, not even via text. Miserably, I wonder what he’s doing and if it’s dangerous as I sit beside Iris at lunch, and she ignores me completely.

When I can stand it no more, I say quietly, “I’m sorry, and I know we have to do something, just please, not Saul.”

Eyeing me grimly, she nods her head and says waspishly, “Where’s your boyfriend? Trouble in paradise already?”

“Maybe,” I say with a shaky smile, “I don’t know.”

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