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I squeeze harder. “I’ll snap your fucking neck.” Then I haul her up so my mouth’s at her ear. “If you want help from a man like me, you better find your inner sub.”
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
“No?” I step back but don’t let her go. “I didn’t say sleep.”
Her eyes go wide and her nostrils flare. It takes everything in me not to throw her to the ground and make her service me.
She’ll be doing that. Just not right now.
“If we’re on the same fucking page…” I lock gazes with her until she makes the smallest sound. Then I let her go.
I go and pour myself a scotch, not bothering to offer her one. A man like JM wouldn’t.
I’d love to say she’s impressionable, but based on what I’ve seen, she’s a brat and stubborn as hell. But she’s also young in that sheltered way. I can use that.
And Scarlett’s here right now because I’ve manipulated her family and her sense of loyalty.
“I want what you have,” I say. “Just like you want what I can do.”
“Good. We’re back to money. I’d much prefer to give that to you.” The excited relief soaks every word as she pulls her bag around to open it. “I can?—”
“You could never afford my fee, if I were to charge you. And I already told you, I’ve got enough money. I do exceptionally well. What I don’t have is the respectable cloak you grew up with. You’re old money. You have a clean slate. You move in the circles I want to step into.”
I can almost see the relief and excitement rush out of her. Scarlett’s shoulders slump a moment. “But I don’t. Dad goes to all sorts of events, but I just go every once in a while when I can’t get out of it. My friends are from college, not from growing up in old money circles, and?—”
“Even better. How old are you?”
I know she’s twenty-three, ten years younger than me, and as much as she cries that she’s not spoiled, she fucking is. Everything that could have been mine is and was hers and it’s not fair, but I don’t forgive her for it. And her father’s still marked for death, the lying, raping, murderous bastard.
“I’m twenty-three and you must already know that. You knew my name.”
“I don’t have a fucking pinup of you on my wall,” I say, taking a swallow of my drink. The screen behind her is dark, so I walk back to the desk and grab the remote control. I hit a button, picking out one of the most depraved playroom displays we have. It’s a video because the club isn’t open yet, but it’ll have to do.
Then I sprawl out on one of the sofas.
“I haven’t memorized your favorite color or your spirit animal.” And I rest my hand on my thigh as I take another swallow of my drink.
She slides me a look before going to the bar and pouring herself a drink. I let her because I’m interested to see how Scarlett plays this out. She knows what I’m saying to her. That I want to fuck her and use her as a ticket to higher levels of society.
And we both know that means me and her pretending to be a couple.
“It’s a box jellyfish.”
“Spineless?”
“Deadly and beyond painful,” she snaps.
I laugh at her sharp tone. “You’re going to be fun, Scarlett,” I say softly. “I was going to tell you my rules, but I think it’ll be more enjoyable having you find them out as we go along.”
“I’m not?—”
“You are. If you want me to help you, then you’re going to be my fuck slave. Behind closed doors. Sometimes outside of them. And in polite company? We’re going to pretend to be a couple. Madly in love.”
“You’re not serious,” she whispers. “I’m not a whore.”
“You’ll be whatever I want you to be.”
Honestly, I don’t give a fuck what someone does to get by, to have fun, to earn money. If someone wants to be a whore in the real sense of the word, good for them. But I want her prickling with dislike for me. Rub her the wrong way when I think fireworks are going to explode.
