Page 6

Graceful footsteps sound from behind me—familiar ones.

“I have need for your presence,” Madame Elisa beckons in a warm Scottish accent.

Swiveling in my chair, I find her leaning in the doorway. An annoyed expression is painted on her beautiful face. She is a woman of beauty and power.

She is my business partner for Le Havre and La Sirene, and she is heavily involved in every dynamic of both establishments. She has saved hundreds of women, men, and children, and no matter the cost or how much pain it put her through, she would walk through the flames of Hell all over again to save any soul.

Her delicately scarred hands begin braiding her long, light hair. A nervous habit she picked up, which comes out when she is close to surpassing the limits of her patience.

“Where are they currently?” My tone is etched with amusement as I stand. Her pale, icy gaze lands on me, arms now crossed as she sits up from the doorway.

“I’m having one of the men escort him to your office. He became very rough with one of the girls and when she refused to service him any longer, he became irate. I’d take care of him, but my mind is more focused on our girl. I’m not up to gruesome tactics this evening.” Her tone is laced with malice. A malice I shall absorb and deliver to this insolent waste of oxygen.

Giving her a tight smile, I nod and enthusiastically state, “I’ll make sure to give him the director’s special.”

She stands beside me, her towering form reminding me of a marble-statued goddess. Then she pats my shoulder in appreciation. “Draw it out please. He needs to suffer for the scar that will develop upon her back.”

The sharp sting of my nails cutting into my palm sends pain shivering up the nerves of my arm. “I will definitely oblige.”

Snaking through the cabaret, I turn toward a hidden passageway that leads to an underground hallway. The hallway connects each building from beneath the ground. The cold walls surround me as my heavy footsteps march down the path. Anger churns and bubbles within, threatening to boil over. I must conceal my rage and release it at the most opportune time on this mongrel.

How dare he think he has any right to touch someone, let alone continue his advances when they clearly wish to cease activity? The rules are clear and posted on our establishment walls, in the contracts that are reviewed, and explained during one-on-one introduction meetings with every single customer to ensure the highest care for our providers.

The past comes crawling back to remind me of every instance one of our providers was stabbed, punched, kicked, and the full-fledged abuse that occurred despite the amount of times we had instructed, explained, and enforced. The long, cool hallway carries the haunting memories like a cavern.

How long must we carry on catering to these imbeciles that muddle the masses? While society may coddle their fragile egos, I shall destroy their sense of entitlement and safety.

Much as they attempt to do with ours.

I finally reach my office, The Director’s Office, on the top floor of Le Havre. A watchman in a three-piece tweed suit stands on either side of this bellend. Clearly they’ve roughed him up a bit, for he has a split upper lip, a fresh bruise developing on his cheekbone, and pure dishevelment adorning his features.

He looks out of place in my elaborate decor. Granted, not many would house large brass statues of the deities Narasimha and Kali within their lavish England office. They are the most ferocious and protective deities in the Hindu religion, and they are the ones I choose to worship.

“Thank you, gentlemen. You’ll wait outside the office, please.”

I wave one hand as the watchmen leave, shutting the door behind them.

“I understand you did something very appalling this evening?” I sit on the edge of the large cedar desk that overlooks floor-to-ceiling windows, appearing polite toward the man in the leather seat.

“I was only doin’ as she had asked, ma’am. She wanted it ’arder and rougher. Now she’s cryin’ wolf I ’urt her.” His hands outstretch with every lie that slips from his tongue.

“I see. Such a pity there was a miscommunication. The owner of the establishment wanted to give you the director’s special, I’ll have you come over here.” Sliding off the edge of the desk, I move to the meeting table and pull a thin chair toward the middle of the room.

“Take a seat,” I order, patting my hand playfully on the leather padding. A smile stretches across his face while his battered hand runs through his oily dark hair.

“I didn’t think this would come about,” he explains, sitting in the chair and relaxing his arms on the wooden arm rests. Slowly I circle him, taking in his wandering eyes, scruffed face, and disgusting personality, all of which taint my office. I approach him, climbing atop his lap.

His hands immediately snake up my thighs, but I swiftly slap at them.

“House rule three—no touching or talking unless asked to.” I immediately jump from his lap and head to the chest next to my Narasimha statue.

“My apologies, miss! I won’t do it again! I promise I’ll keep me hands to meself.” His pleas make bile rise within my throat.

Rummaging in the chest, I find the item I’ve wanted to use on him since Elisa reported his wrongdoings.

“Please. I swear I will listen.” His voice strains as I turn to face him, keeping the rope behind my back.

“No worries, love. I will ensure you obey the rules.” As I explain he exhales in relief.