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“Princess, shut it.”
I stiffened, not liking to be told to shut up or any variation of the demand.
“I’m pissed as fuck you think so little of me you think I’d stick my dick into trash pussy. But more that I’d have to stoop so fucking low I’d need to pay for that shit.”
“Pay for it?” I whispered back.
“Baby, every woman out there is for rent and depending on how much money you have, for sale.”
“What?”
For rent? Martin hadn’t asked me to fill his villa with strippers or call girls. Wilson had it wrong. This was Vegas, women were gagging to be invited to parties such as this for the opportunity of snagging a rich guy who’d treat her like shit, cheat on her, but would keep her in a beautiful house and buy her whatever she wanted as long as she knew her place. I’d seen it hundreds of times. Same party, different rich man hosting.
“That’s not what’s happening here,” I argued.
“You’re wrong, Atlee. That’s exactly what’s happening.”
What did he know that I didn’t? He said he was here working…from what I understood Takeback was involved in rescuing sex trafficking victims.
Victims.
Were the women here…
No.
No way. Martin was just another scumbag who got off throwing his money around, surrounding himself with desperate women who would do anything to sink their claws into a billionaire.
“I see it’s all coming together,” Wilson rumbled.
He was wrong, it wasn’t.
“We’re going to walk out of this closet and I’m gonna hope that fucker didn’t see me dragging you in here. Then you’re going to strut your fine ass out of this villa without looking around and be careful getting home. When I leave here I’m going to call you. If you don’t answer you’ll find me at your front door.”
I didn’t need to ask how he knew where I lived, just like I hadn’t asked how he’d gotten my phone number. Wilson McCray seemed to know all.
Since I was leaving before Wilson had spotted me, there was no sense in arguing. I wanted to leave before the actual sex started on all the flat surfaces. Last night I’d gotten an eyeful, I didn’t need another.
“Fine,” I snapped.
“Good girl,” he practically purred.
I rolled my eyes but my traitorous nipples pebbled.
Wilson stepped back but not before he brushed his lips over my cheek.
Damn him.
“Ready?” he asked.
He was making a bigger deal out of this than he needed to. Martin was occupied with the blonde and even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t care if I’d been dragged into a closet by one of his guests and fucked within an inch of my life. Hell, he’d probably encourage it and tip me for keeping his visitor happy.
And to think this was the job I’d worked my ass off to get.
Maybe my father was right.
I shook that thought off as quickly as it had entered my head. Not all of my VIPs were slimy like Martin.
“Ready.”
