Page 34 of The Masked King

I go to move past him in the doorway and deliberately misjudge the gap by angling my body sideways a little. My breasts crush against his chest, and his hands instinctively go to my waist.

For a long moment, we freeze, our bodies squashed together between the door frame, his warm hands on me, his garlic breath on my face.

I hardly dare breathe as he raises one hand to my mouth, his thumb rubbing against my bottom lip. Then he dips his head and sucks my left nipple, teasing it to a stiff point.

Don’t react, don’t react, don’t react. I clench my legs together and fight the bile threatening to rise in my throat, but my traitorous body sends the blood pumping straight down to my pussy anyway.

“Tonight, you win.” His voice is husky as he drags me along the hallway to the changing room.

“Wait.” Adrenaline kicks in as I realize his intention. “What are you doing?”

“You wore this for me, no?” His accent is more prominent now. “Don’t pretend you don’t know exactly what you were doing.”

His grip on my wrist is like iron. I try to dig my heels into the carpet, to find something I could grab hold of to buy me a few precious moments, but the walls are devoid of any kind of embellishments. There isn’t even a shade covering the lightbulb overhead.

“No, stop.” I can hear the panic in my own voice. “I don’t want to get into any trouble. I need this job. I have rent to pay.”

He has already opened the door to the changing room, and it occurs to me that I don’t even know his name as he drags me inside and closes the door.

“No.” My protest is smothered by his tongue in my mouth.

Nausea rises in my throat, and I’m not entirely sure if that would be the worst outcome right now. I flatten my hands against his chest and try to push him off, but he’s solid and must have at least eighty pounds on me. Before I can even think about raising my knee to his groin, he spreads my legs wide with one hand and grinds his crotch against my pussy.

What happens next happens so quickly that I don’t realize we’re not alone in the room until he is dragged off me and thrown into the wall.

I recognize one of the two bodyguards who have come to my rescue.

No name.

That’s not how JADED works.

But my attacker is on his feet and crashing into the chest of the one closest to him, using the top of his head as a battering ram. He growls something I don’t understand. His opponent sprawls backwards into the dressing table that splinters beneath their combined weight like it’s made of matchsticks, and they wrestle on the floor.

The third bodyguard takes my hand and guides me out of the room and along the corridor to the exit where clean clothes and a pair of black sneakers are waiting for me. They’re not mine, but I don’t protest.

“A car is waiting outside for you.” He gestures at the exit.

“My stuff.” I pull the clothes on, grateful that there are no zips or buttons.

“You will get it back tomorrow.”

“Do I still have a job?” Despite everything, I don’t want to disappoint DI Goss.

“Tomorrow.” He closes the door behind him.

I guess when there’s no HR department, lack of communication isn’t a concern. I’m not indispensable. They could’ve taken that asshole’s side and fired me on the spot, and there isn’t a damned thing I could do about it because who’s going to believe my story over theirs? Powerful men get away with murder. Literally. Not even DI Goss could pull enough strings to get me out of this situation.

So, why didn’t they fire me?

Why are those thugs beating the shit out of one another back there?

Or was that performance for my benefit to lull me into a false sense of security?

They help me, I help them.

I climb into the back of the waiting blacked-out car with a sick sense of uneasiness swirling around inside my gut. I played straight into their hands tonight, and I didn’t even see it coming. No clients for three nights in a row. No Brian. The new bodyguard with his wandering eyes. They stepped in and saved me, so how can I refuse when they ask me to return the favor?

For the first time since I left the DI’s office, I feel like I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.