Keep it or you’ll pay, Princess.
She didn’t reply once I sent her the five grand. I kept my phone on the desk and sighed. I have to talk to her about accepting my gifts.
Shaking my head, trying to erase my depraved thoughts, I read the file, frowning at the informal tone. An apartment got flooded because of a pipe burst, and one of the tenants had written this. I scoffed at the writing and the signed name, Rory.
Really, Paige?
She must have received an email from some college kid who lived in a cheap place and took pity on him. Her motherly instinct must have tingled that she printed it out and ordered me to solve the case.
I sighed and looked up the place online. As expected, it was in the area where it was common for landlords and builders to make cheap houses using low-priced building materials. I checked the time. Two in the afternoon. If I drove there and gave my written statement to the landlord, scaring them, they would pay back to the tenants affected, and as a reward, I could go to the strip club.
To see if Chelsea would be there or not.
I had visited the day before just to see if she was there, but the manager told me she hadn’t applied for another day.
Without overthinking, I took my suit jacket, car keys, and the formal reply I had written in half an hour to the landlord.
* * *
“Seriously,man, you don’t know how grateful we are!” Rory, the tenant, said, following me into the dumpster of an apartment.
The landlord was appalled and wanted to punch me when I gave him the paperwork, but he was a coward, so my job was easy. He paid all the damages to all the tenants, and my client was a happy person. Paige was going to be pleased.
The flooded apartment was on the fifth floor, and the elevator didn’t work. There were no security check-ins or cameras anywhere. I could smell drugs wafting through the vent when I followed the kid upstairs.
I didn’t need to see the damages, but the kid was very pushy and the strip club wouldn’t open early, so I decided it was worth a shot to see the apartment.
It was once a nice and cozy place, but the smell of murky water made me cover my nose with my tie. Even the air was stagnant, and I was glad the four people living there were moving out.
The kid kept rambling on and on as I looked around, pausing at the room with the pink duvet and fairy lights. I felt a sense of familiarity seeing it.
“Oh, that’s Chelsea’s room. Poor girl, she was devastated when?—”
I turned to him, looking him in the eye for the first time. “Whose room?”
“Chelsea. My roommate,” he replied. “She’s the one who gave me your email. I told her you might never see it—but we’re so glad for your help!”
He kept rambling, but I focused on her room. I knew there were many Chelseas in the world, but she had rushed out early morning when her apartment got flooded, and not many Chelseas knew I was a lawyer.
I stepped into her room, looking around at the small space. A queen size bed with cute pink and white sheets and a duvet. Her wardrobe was partly empty and her small makeup collection by the dresser was damaged by the water.
I heard her roommate ramble about how she was going to throw it away. It looked like she had already trashed a lot of her stuff and was planning to move.
Thanking Rory for his time and declining his offer to have a beer. I sat in my car and wondered why she didn’t tell me she was living in such an area. I knew I was practically a stranger to her, but I wanted to be her Sugar Daddy and take care of her.
I tried calling her again, but she didn’t pick up. Clenching my jaw, I drove to the club. She was going to learn some manners about picking up her damn phone.
On the way, I ordered Paige’s favorite food to thank her for giving me the case.
The bouncer let me in, and I heard the sultry music with a heady scent wafting through the place. I had one goal, and I knew I would find her in the club because her roommate had told me she was going to get a better place after getting paid for an expensive gig.
The only place who would pay her more for a few hours of work was the strip club,Heaven.
Or me. But she didn’t reach out to me.
My steps slowed down when I saw it was an auction night. I had seen it a few times from the sidelines. A few gorgeous women wearing tiny lingerie would flatter the crowd from the stage, and anyone could bid on them to spend a night with them. The women would decide what was acceptable and what was not, but most of them ended up having sex, since only rich men could afford them.
I looked around to find a certain blond brat in the crowd, but it was futile. She wasn’t in the server group or lined up as a stripper—thank God. I didn’t mind anyone doing sex work, but I didn’t want Chelsea to do sex work for money when she had me.
