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I look around, then down, and there are pretty patterns on my arms and lower legs, and parts of my body throb in freedom from the binding.
The room’s black and there’s red rope and a ring hanging from the ceiling. One he must have tied me to.
I look up and through the glass; people are there, staring in, some clapping.
Heat burns into my skin.
Malone leads me out, and it’s not until we’re in the middle of them that I realize I’m in my underwear and my panties are soaked.
He doesn’t stop until we reach the back of the club.
“JM.”
He stops at that and turns. I do, too. I’m still half-lost in it all and I forget until it’s too late to look down.
“JM,” the man says again. He’s holding out a card. Malone snaps his fingers and I take it. I don’t even think.
He takes it from me. “Johann Dunkel.”
“Good show,” the man says, voice greasy and slick like oil. “You know, she’d make a good star. For some highly customized media. I have clients who’d pay for that. She’s a little old, but for certain things, she’ll do, and you could make a name for yourself as her handler.”
“I already have enough money.” Malone sounds bored.
The man, Johann, isn’t fazed. “But you don’t own a porn star.”
Horror grips me with cold fingers, and I recoil.
“She’s my fiancée.”
“And?” the man says. “So?”
Malone looks at me and I stare back. “I should tell you eyes down,” he says.
“Sorry, Sir,” I say.
“But maybe you’re right.” Malone rubs his chin and glances back at the man. “She’s quality, rich, turning her into something millions might want to watch, or just a select few… could be fun. We’ll talk in my office. This way.”
I don’t move and Malone holds out his hand. It’s a command, not an ask. “Come on, Scarlett. You’ll put on a show, give him a sample.”
This is it. Trust.
I take a breath, look at this older, pudgy man who turns my stomach and makes bile rush up from my throat, and offer him a flirty smile. “Yes. Sir.”
THIRTY-ONE
malone
I know who Johann fucking Dunkel is.
There’s a whole dossier on him and his vile ways. He’s a middleman talking it up big. But he’s from Dark Desires, or at least, he’s worked with them. The business card doesn’t have that information on it, so he might have gone his own way.
Him here, though, offering that kind of fucking service to me? To the man he thinks I am?
No, this is different. Bigger.
I expected to flush someone out tonight. The message I got was that someone would be here, and I said I’d be putting on a show with my fiancée. And if they had the information on her cousin that I wanted, they had plenty of time from when I left that playroom to approach me.
I asked for a card to be handed over along with an offer I couldn’t refuse.
