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“Oh my God. Why are you so good at this?” The words spill from me, and he pants, laughing.
Slowly, after a minute, he pulls out and straightens our clothes. Then Malone swings me back around. It dawns on me what we just did. Where we are.
“I suspect,” he says, “it’s chemistry. You and me work, Scarlett. And you’re mine.”
Hope sweeps me. “So I don’t?—”
“No, Baby Red, you do. You’re the party favor if I lose. I just wanted you before they get to you. If it comes to that.”
“I’m not going. We’re in a public space?—”
“This is a private space. If someone was looking, they’d have seen. But the public space is downstairs. So be a good girl and come with me, and while you’re waiting to find out your fate, listen to the conversations. You never know what you’ll learn.”
He gives me zero option but to follow him.
Malone is a cruel, ice cube-cool god. And the other men in the room know it.
I hate the way they look at me, hate how some of them corner me, and the things they say are nothing less than perverted. Twisted under the guise of polite, they’re after a chance to try me out. But no one dares to touch. Because if someone’s hands get too close, Malone is there, guiding me away.
“Maybe you should just let them have me since you’re basically giving me to them,” I snap when he leads me away from Mariachi right to the bar.
He just kisses the corner of my mouth, ignoring my hard glare. “If that’s what you want.”
“You know it’s not.”
“Then, my sweet little fiancée,” he says mockingly. “Tell me, did you learn anything?”
I take a breath and his drink and down it since I lost mine a little while ago. “Only that three of them like hurting women.”
He just looks at me and I want to slap the expression from his face.
“Not for fun,” I say.
Malone turns to the bar and gets two drinks and presses one into my hand. “No, Scarlett, they definitely do it for fun. In fact, I think they get off on it.”
The words sink in, and I jerk, spilling my drink.
“All these girls and…” I stop because I can’t understand how these beautiful women—and they are beautiful—let these men fuck them and hurt them for money.
“The girls are paid a small fortune, and the person they work for? Let’s just say she’s one scary woman. These men don’t do a thing that’s even close to being out of line if they want their balls to remain on their body. Now, if one of the girls agrees to certain things, that’s on her. Worry about yourself, not the other women in here.”
His words hit home. “You… you’d let them hurt me, wouldn’t you?”
“Not too much.” Then he looks past me and smiles. “The game’s about to start. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck.” I push out the words, almost choking on them.
He doesn’t ask me to sit with him, but he takes a seat where he can watch me. And probably so I don’t run. Not every man plays, some watch, and some watch me. Their eyes sliding sticky and greedily over me, even the one fingering a gorgeous redhead. I drink my drink and try to sit calmly on the barstool in the dark place.
It’s hard. I can still feel Malone fucking me. Like a ghost memory.
And worse, I can hear the faint beat of the music that thumped when he thrust into me. Down here, the music’s low, a different sound than upstairs. It’s moody, there to accentuate, not distract.
At least the others don’t come near me.
For now.
Until he loses.
