Satisfied with her cooperation, he grips my upper arm in a gesture that could easily be mistaken for affection if he weren’t gouging his fingers into my flesh so hard it hurts.
“You’ll leave bruises,” I whisper when we round the corner.
“Be glad I’m not leaving a black eye. Maybe if you got a beating like your crazy mother, you’d stay in your place.”
Once again, the memories his words summon almost turn my knees to jelly. I’m not half as scared of his threats as I was when Mom was alive. He never hitme, but he took Mom’s meds whenever I misbehaved, then beat her up when she started hallucinating.
He won’t hurt me, though. Not while he needs me to play my part. Bruises on my arm can be easily attributed to wild sex. A black eye or split lip, not so much.
“Where are we going tonight?”
“Strip club. Simons pulled out. I’ve got a new guy, probably an even better fit for what I have in mind...”
EIGHTEEN
Blair
CODY STEPS OUT OF HIS CONDO when I shove the key into my lock. It’s after midnight, and I smell like smoke and stripper perfume after spending too many hours watching women writhing around poles while my father talked business with his newest victim.
The man didn’t pay me any heed. He barely even looked at me when I arrived, too busy salivating at the much bustier and curvier girls than me working the poles.
But I wasn’t excused until my father shook hands with the man, his smile dazzling, fucking blinding in all its flakiness. Tonight must’ve been the fastest deal Gideon Fitzpatrick ever closed. I bet the fat envelope he slipped into Mr. Whatever’s hand helped speed the process, but it’s unusual for my father to willingly hand out bribes.
The deal must’ve been one he couldn’t afford to lose. Still, giving money away isn’t a decision Dad takes lightly.
“Where were you?” Cody asks, his icy tone demanding my attention. “Who was that asshole screaming at you earlier?”
My body ignites at the sight of his sweatpants hanging low, bare feet, and bare chest. Since the night we spent together, I’ve been walking around hot and bothered whenever he invades my mind. I wake up drenched in sweat from intense dreams and finish the job using my purple wand. I’ve mastered using it, but it’s nowhere near as good as Cody.
My cheeks heat more, filthy thoughts on display as I watch him tug from a bottle of Corona, glaring at me like I’ve killed his pet snake.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.
Playing dumb probably won’t work on him, but I can try.
He scoffs, shaking his head, clearly disappointed in my answer. “Ana said he dragged you out of here like a fucking dog, Blair.Whowashe?”
“It’s none of your business.” I turn to go inside, but Cody leaps forward, gently cuffing his fingers around my wrist.
“I’m making it my business, B.” He steps closer, backing me against the wall.
“Who was he? Your boyfriend?”
Blood sings in my ears. God, he sounds... he soundsjealous. Possessive. Territorial with how his fingers sink into my flesh, hard enough to send a message but not hard enough to hurt.
“Stop asking questions. Please.”
“I’m not forcing you to answer.” He moves his hand to trace the line of my hip, looming over me, his brown irises dancing across my face and body, two lines creasing his forehead when he takes in my dress. “You look...” He pauses, scrunching his nose like he caught a bad stench. “You look better in jeans.”
“So polite,” I mock.
Or try to mock, but my words come out as breathless as I feel when he’s crowding my personal space, the heat of his body engulfing me whole.
He’s so damnbig.
I’m not short. Five-six is not short. Add my three-inch heels, and we’re close to eye level, but his broad chest and big arms make me feel like small prey. “You wanted to say I look like a whore. I know. No need to point it out. I own a mirror.”
“Then why do you dress like this?”
