Page 140 of Violent Pawn

“What do you know about her?”

“Only that she fit the hiring requirements you once laid out.”

“If they look scared or nervous, bring them in. If they give you any sense that they’re running from something, we can be the place they land. Everyone needs a bit of support without the million questions. If they can do the job, we’ll become their family.”

The people who often seek sex work are coming from rough backgrounds and need money or to release trauma. Whatever their reason, I’m not here to judge, within reason, since I’m protective over my girls and my business. Lev completes any required background check, gathering enough intel to give me comfort that I’m not hiring anyone dangerous.

As I settle behind the desk, my phone chimes with a check-up message.

Nero

I miss you.

Me

You’re needy. Go away. About to start the interview.

Nero

Make me.

Me

Want me on my knees ever again for you?

Nero

You win.

A knock on the door comes before Sasha leads in a young woman who’s probably at most twenty years old. The potential hire enters with her chin held high and a stride hinting of coaching, reminding me of the lessons Papa once forced me into. Her striking regal features belong in a previous century. Her face card alone will appeal to the club’s clientele, but what doesn’t fit is the rest. Her jeans are dark-washed and clearly new. Going by the logo, her shoes are from a brand only found in high-end boutiques. The diamond bracelet I clock on her wrist tells enough of her story. She stops a couple of feet back from the desk and completes the demure guise she’s building by placing her hands behind her back.

Everything about her sets me on edge because she appears too perfect. Most of the girls who come through here come from lesser financial means. Never has someone who comes from money tried to get hired.

Sasha moves to the side of the room, tilting her head with a see what I mean? expression. Sasha was given hiring power a few months ago and only has me interview the ones she flags.

I gesture for the girl to take a seat, paying particular attention to how her knees remain together, hands clasped together on her lap. She flicks light hair over her shoulder and plasters on a smile. Again, too primly to ease me.

“Privet. My name is Anastasia Petrov. I run this establishment, so welcome. Please, what is your name?”

“Ella Debois.”

Jolted by her voice, I flick my eyes to Sasha, silently responding, Yes, I do see.

“Your accent isn’t from these parts. North American?”

She bobs her head, and that smile falters ever so slightly. “The United States, to be specific.” Her fingers press into her knees until they flush white. She sucks at hiding her nerves, which tells me to pay more attention to the next few responses since I doubt she’s moved across the world to work at a brothel.

“You’re far from home.”

Ella shrugs. “I wanted to explore the world, so figured I’d start here.”

“Right.” Bullshit. “Alright, let’s begin…” I pull over the sheet of standard questions, asking about her experiences and comfort levels, and emphasizing the importance of consent and the ongoing testing I have done on the staff to ensure everyone stays healthy and safe.

Ella nods to everything at the appropriate times, her smile never once faltering. She answers everything with an easy confidence that continues to raise my internal flags.

My final listed question is one that often gets skipped until getting to know the potential hire better. Trust works both ways, and those who come through my door may need time to recognize I’m not out to get them like the others in their life.

With Ella, every answer will be picked apart.