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“Of course. There’s no need to pull you from your guests. I can find my way.”
I turned. So did Eden. Together we moved down the hall.
What in the world was going on?
I’d never been escorted through the villa.
“Please forgive George,” she started. “He shouldn’t have touched you. Mr. Jackson has a very important meeting coming up and things haven’t gone as smoothly as we’d hoped.”
Business meeting.
Ugh.
I wanted to ask the woman how she slept at night. How she could look at herself in the mirror knowing she was working for a man who kidnapped women and sold them. How she could live with herself knowing she rented out women who more than likely were not like any of the call girls I knew—making a good living and doing it of their own free will—but keeping them hostage, forcing them to sell their bodies.
Of course, I didn’t ask that. I was just Martin’s casino host. I wasn’t supposed to know she was a glorified pimp and he was a monumental piece of shit.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I believe you already have. Thank you for finding a property to host our out-of-town guests. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all. I’ve arranged valet for the meeting as well. Will you need catering?”
We stopped in front of the closed library door.
Eden knocked.
“No, thank you, I have catering sorted. I’ll need the names of the valets.”
“I’ll email you the list.”
The door came open, Dale came into view, and my heart immediately started pounding.
Beside me I felt Eden stiffen. No, not stiffen, but she definitely held herself at attention. Like someone would do when they were meeting the big boss.
“Thank you, Eden.” His tone was dismissive. Eden dipped her chin gracefully and quickly departed. “Come in, Miss Levine.”
I really did not want to go into the library with this man, especially knowing he would shut the door behind us. With the loud music no one would hear my screams for help and if they did they’d probably think nothing of it.
Wilson was here.
Jack and Asher knew where I was.
I had my watch on.
I stepped into the room and my stomach flip-flopped.
Martin was sitting in a plush leather chair, Catarina on his lap, and he was petting her like she was, well…a cat.
I had to hand it to her; she looked doe-eyed and sweet, totally oblivious to the danger in the room.
Her dress showed off her ample cleavage, the hem rode high, barely covered her girly parts and it wouldn’t be much better if she was standing. Her hair was down, long and wavy. Smokey makeup on her lids. Her feet were encased in a pair of heels that a seasoned stripper would have a hard time walking in.
The door clicked shut.
The music dulled, which made the fast beat of my heart the center of my attention.
“What did you find for me, Atlee?” Martin asked.
