This must be one of those trauma-bonding experiences because all I want is to melt into him and let him hold me. I’m not a hugger, and I have a boyfriend, so … my mind is clearly messed up.
To keep myself from reaching for him, I fold my arms across my torso. “When will I be able to go home?”
“About that”—he moves us toward the corner, where it’s quieter, because some of the staff are discussing a patient—“I’m going to need you to do a few things for me.”
“Of course.” I nod, wondering what covering this up will entail and how long this nightmare will be hanging over my head.
“You can never speak about this again. Not to anyone.”
My heart thumps to the thundering cadence of my no-turning-back reality. “I understand.”
He stares at me for a beat, deliberating whether my answer is adequate before he must decide to trust that I’ll keep my mouth shut. “I have cleaners sweeping the house. They’ll pack up all your things—everything that can be saved—but you’ll need to find another place, just to be on the safe side.”
He’s so calm, spilling all of that. This is what they do, why they have people throwing money at them. They host lavish parties, off those who cross them, and clean up messes. I’m standing in a medical facility, located where bootleggers used to smuggle alcohol, and now the Noires use it so the criminal underworld can be treated without scrutiny. I heard tales of it when I used to work for them, but to be standing inside it, witnessing the collected cleanup of a crime, and being the recipient of such—it’s more than my mind can process.
My stomach bottoms out, so I squeeze myself tighter. “I guess that makes sense. I’ll start looking tonight.”
“Great.” He offers me a consoling grin before he delivers the next directive. “And you need to return to work here.”
“What?”
His brows knit together in what appears to be a subtle warning. “You start Friday.”
“No, I don’t.” I drop my arms, the shock wearing off and a wrathful strength rushing through my veins. “I resigned eleven months ago. It was approved by Ryker. I have another job, another life. I’m not coming back here.”
I can’t. It’s the one thing I can’t do. Everything I’ve been working toward the past year will be washed down the drain. They don’t let employees just quit, not if they think you have any intel. And I did. I do. Nothing huge, but I was here for years and heard enough. I made my promises though. I earned my exit interview. It took me three months to convince Ryker to letme go. I’d thought he was my best bet, but Jax had to intervene on my behalf. It’s done.
Maddox bends slightly to get closer to my face, though he’s still towering over me. “You called me, and I showed up like I would have for any staff member in trouble. It’s a perk of employment; therefore, you need to be employed.”
That stings. Maybe it shouldn’t. I know who I’m dealing with. I called him for a reason. But in the chaos, I never considered returning to La Lune Noire to be a possible stipulation. I don’t know why I didn’t. I should have. I’m not a friend. I don’t get special treatment.
“Ask something else of me.” I hate begging, but I’m so unglued right now. “Anything. That’s the one thing I can’t do. I can’t come back here—”
“This isn’t a negotiation.” His face has sobered to steel, his resolve evident in every hard line.
One night. One helpless minute. One choice. And it’s going to cost me everything.
“Then you should have told me what my payment would be before you agreed to help.”
“Rewind a few hours, Tess, to when you were sitting in a pool of blood. Were you really in a position to barter?” His gunmetal grays dart away, and for a split second, it almost seems like remorse is swimming in them, but it’s only a vehicle for another facet of his control. “You always wanted to be a tattoo artist rather than just a piercer. It’s yours. You’ll stay in the junior suite this week. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll expect to see you at your station on Friday.”
That memory should be a blaring warning sign not to trudge into whatever this is with Cash, but I’ve learned a lot since that night with Maddox. So, first, I do a little digging.
“Let’s start with the cost. You’re willing to help me for what price?”
“You are looking at it all wrong,” the devious Noire king trills. “There’s no price. This will be as entertaining for you as it is for me, but at the end of it, you’ll get what you want. It’s a sure bet.”
I roll my shoulders back and arch a brow. “Less manipulative selling, Cash, and more laying it out.”
“Fine.” He smiles, seemingly pleased that I’m not folding like ornate origami paper. “Maddox has an important meeting this afternoon, one he can’t fuck up or Axel will lose his shit. All you need to do is go into his office a few minutes before that meeting starts and seduce him, offer to give him a little under-the-desk action.”
“Have you guys ever considered taking a class on sexual harassment or running these things that come out of your mouth by HR? You—one of my bosses—want me to interrupt one of my other bosses during a meeting to give him a blow job?”
“Really?” He chuckles, scratching the blond scruff on his jaw. “HR is what you’re going with? We run an entire resort that defies those types of stipulations. That’s the least of it.”
I widen my eyes, feigning outrage. “Good to know.”
He wags his finger at me. “Don’t act so innocent. You’ve reaped several of the benefits, so your moral high horse can be dismounted. And no one said anything about giving him a blow job. Mad will be flustered by the offer because it’s the last thing he expects from you. Mission accomplished before you ever drop to your knees. You do have to draw it out though. He has to be good and stupid when that call comes in.”
