‘High-paying opportunities for open-minded, adventurous individuals,’ it proclaims. ‘Discretion assured.’
My stomach churns as I consider what ‘adventurous’ might mean in this context. But with the clock ticking and Reggie's threats echoing in my ears, I know I don't have the luxury of being picky. Reaching for my phone with a trembling hand, I punch in the number before I can talk myself out of it. But still, I hesitate with my finger hovering over the call button. I doubt it'sanything good, but what choice do I have? The mob's deadline looms, a ticking time bomb ready to shatter what remains of my family.
"Here goes nothing..."
As it rings, I try to steel myself for whatever comes next. I mean, let’s be real here, I’m not naive. I’ve got a pretty good idea of what this might entail.
My hands sweat as I wait for the call to connect. This is insane. I'm a good girl - or I was, before Dad died and left us drowning in his debts. Now I'm just a girl who's running out of options.
"Primal Fantasies," a sultry-toned woman says when the call connects. "How may we fulfil your deepest desires?"
Yep, exactly what I expected, just dressed up in fancy. I guess that’s a good thing, though.
"Actually, I'm calling about the ad. For, um, employees."
“One moment, please.” There's a pause, then a click as I'm transferred. A man's voice, low and gravelly, comes on the line. He’s all business and there’s not so much as a single pleasantry. “Name?"
"Linnea Reed."
"Age?"
"Twenty-three."
"Do you have any kink experience?"
Jesus, okay, so that’s not what I was expecting. I hesitate, then go with the truth. There are some things a girl just can’t fake. "None. But I'm a fast learner."
He chuckles, and the sound sends shivers down my spine. "Fortunately, sweetheart, we have plenty of clients who relish the opportunity to initiate an ingenue, and we don’t get too many, so they command top dollar. If you’re serious, give me your email address and I’ll send out details."
The moment I've rattled it off the line goes dead, and I’m left staring at my phone.
Did that really happen?
It must have, because seconds later, my phone chimes with a message notification, and I open the email that will change my life.
Chapter
Three
Linnea
Less than twenty-four hours later, I’m sitting in a surprisingly opulent suite of offices waiting for an interview and wondering, not for the first time, if I’ve lost my mind.
"Ms. Reed." The receptionist calls my name, and I stand on shaky legs. My heart pounds as I follow her down a hallway lined with abstract art that seems to writhe and undulate, hinting at carnal acts. We stop at a heavy wooden door, and she knocks once before ushering me inside.
The office is dimly lit, all dark wood and leather. Behind an imposing desk sits a man who exudes power and danger. His eyes, sharp and assessing, rake over me as I walk to the chair he indicates and perch nervously on the edge of the seat.
"Linnea Reed," he says, my name rolling off his tongue like silk. "Welcome. I'm Mr. Smith. Tell me, why are you here if you’re not trying to get your own kinky fantasies fulfilled? I'll be honest, most of our clientele are looking for a mutual arrangement."
I swallow around the lump in my throat and fight the impulse to flee. He must see it because he holds up a hand. “No judgment here, but I do need to understand your motivation, otherwise I wouldn't be doing my job properly.”
"I ah…” He gives me a look that makes me decide I should definitely go with the truth. “I need money. A lot of it, fast."
He leans back, steepling his fingers. His expression is neutral, but I still get a sense of disapproval. "Mmm. That's not the reason most of our patrons join up."
With the feeling he’s going to deny me, and with nothing left to lose - well, except my life, or my mother’s, and undoubtedly a whole lot of nastiness prior to that happening, I rush on and the entire sorry story comes tumbling out.
"And you're willing to do whatever it takes?" he asks, after what seems like an age.
