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Cillian.
I already feel so filthy just for being here in this place that I feel embarrassed to think his name. It’s strange that the best of the bunch is the guy I thought was the most dangerous, and I feel like I don’t deserve him.
After what happened to Mom today I don’t regret my decision to do this.
My mother had another heart attack. I was talking to her about the studio when she went into cardiac arrest right in front of me.
Dr. Chase and his team were able to bring her back again. Then I had the painful task of telling him that I didn’t get the loan.
He’s placed Mom in a sedated coma to help her heal, but things aren’t looking good. She needs that surgery now if we hope for her to survive.
Roxanne was just on her way in when Mom had the attack. We were going to talk to Mom about the loan together.
Thank God we didn’t get the chance to. I would have felt like it was our fault if she’d had the heart attack following the bad news.
I didn’t want to leave my mother’s side, but I had to come here to work.
When I got here, I put my name down to be a starlet for hire. Those girls get hired for anything from a week to a month to a year. The starting payment is a hundred thousand dollars for a week.
The manager said he had no doubt I’d get snapped up for hire over the next few days. His eyes gleamed when I told him I wanted to sign up. He takes a ten-percent cut for every booking I get, so he thinks I’m going to bring in more money.
That still works for me. With my fifteen thousand in the bank, I’d still have enough from just one booking to pay the deposit for the surgery.
I haven’t told Roxanne anything about this. Nobody needs to know.
I’d feel so much worse if they did. I felt bad when I found myself walking in here last night to apply for this job but this is a whole other level of degrading.
I reach the dressing room and get dressed in the outfit they left out for me.
Now that I’m decked out in the uniform—a pink diamond-spackled bra and a thong—I look like a slut.
The outfit looks like something a Vegas showgirl would wear in a burlesque show.
A knock sounds at the door. Whoever it is doesn’t wait for me to answer before the door swings open.
It’s the seedy manager—of course it is. His name is Marcus. When he sees me and his eyes light up, I half expect them to morph into huge dollar signs.
“Fantastic. You’re fucking gorgeous.” He looks me over and licks his chapped lips. “The men are ready for you. Do you need anything?”
“No. I’m ready.”
“Great. Just fuck like a pro and you?—"
A large hand clamps around his neck and hoists him into the air.
At first I think we’re under some attack, then Cillian charges into the room and rams Marcus into the wall as if he’s as weightless as a fly.
My mouth falls open and every bone in my body stiffens.
“What the fuck did you just say to my girl?” Cillian barks in Marcus’ face.
I gaze at him, my mind scrambled and stuck between the shock of seeing him and wondering what he’s doing here.
And he looks like he’s going to kill Marcus.
“Cillian, stop it.” I rush up to them and yank on Cillian’s arm, but it’s to no avail.
Marcus starts coughing and thrashing against Cillian’s grasp. “Let… go.”
