Page 34 of Unlock My Heart

“Get up,” I tell him with a disgusted look. “I will give you one more chance. Do not disappoint me.”

He hops to his feet, clasping his hands together. “Yes, Mistress.”

Five thousand in cash and a backdated invoice later, I’m feeling much better about my odds of survival.

After cleaning my feet with antibacterial wipes, I move downstairs to the basement, checking out the setup for tonight’s private event. Clipboard in hand, I review the auction details. “Ladies,” I call, and the girls gather round. “Let’s go over the rundown for tonight. I’ll take the stage and get the crowd warmed up, and from there, I will call Fiona, and then you, Merlot.”

“Why does Fiona get to go first?” Merlot bitches.

“Because we’re going in alphabetical order,” I tell her in a no-nonsense tone. “Once you are on stage, I’ll go through your attributes, hyping you up, and the men will bid. Once your auction is over, you will immediately join the winning bidder on the floor.” Having learned that lesson from my own nearly disastrous auction, I’m not going to risk cherries being popped backstage by jealous bitches. “Any questions?”

“Where the fuck is Remi?” Michele appears, drunk off his ass. His drug and alcohol use is getting more and more out of hand, to where I’m having to practically run the hotel and lounge on top of my madam duties.

“Darling, let’s discuss this in private⁠—”

The back of his hand connects with my cheek, my neck snapping to the side. The girls make themselves scarce.

“Where is she? I fucking told you, I wanted Remi as one of my girls,” he slurs his words.

I cradle my throbbing cheek with my palm. “And as I’ve told you, the little bitch stole my cat and took off.”

Sienna

A few months ago

“Afternoon, Mrs. D’Amico.”

“Good afternoon. How’s it going, Jermaine?” I ask the custodian sweeping the hallway.

“Can’t complain, ma’am.”

“Is Mr. D’Amico back from lunch?” Knowing Michele’s schedule and avoiding him like the plague makes my job as madam so much easier.

He casts a nervous glance over his shoulder. “Yes, ma’am. He’s in your office. A large crate was delivered; I’m not sure what’s in it.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, continuing on my way.

A crate? Surely Michele isn’t brazen enough to store a shipment of drugs in my office.

Pressing the cracked door open, I enter to find my husband seated on the couch across from my desk.

“Hello, darling.” I tentatively step inside, eyeing the mystery crate in the corner of the room. “What’s this?”

Michele’s pupils are huge, a tell-tale sign that he’s high as a kite. “A gift for you. Open it.”

“How lovely.” With a phony grin of my own, I cross the room, examining the large box with holes before lifting the lid. A startled squeal escapes my lips as a huge cat hops out, meowing like crazy.

Michele’s smile puts the devil’s to shame. “Don’t tell me that my wife’s afraid of a little pussy cat?”

This asshole stole my therapy records back when I was nineteen! There’s no other way he could know about my fear of cats.

“Of course not; I was surprised, that’s all.” Refusing to allow him the victory of seeing me fall apart, I fawn over the demon cat, ignoring the panic bubbling in my chest. “Aww, so cute!”

Michele crosses the room and now has me by the throat. “The next time you kill one of my pets, I’ll have my men take you out to the alley and make you theirs.” He releases me with a shove. “Take care of our precious baby,” he calls over his shoulder as he strolls out.

Falling to the couch, I tuck my head between my knees. Deep breaths through my nose, blowing out through my mouth.

A thud has me lifting my gaze; the cat is now seated on my desk, watching me. But wait, are we sure this thing is a cat? It’s long and lean with tall ears and markings like a freaking bobcat.