Page 22 of Baby for the Bratva King

I pour the juice into the glass bottle, screwing the lid tight.

“Here.” I hand over the sugar-free concoction when he returns.

“Thanks, Honeysuckle,” he says, a smile toying with his lips as he produces a document.

“Never call me that again.”

“While you’re working as my maid, I can call you what I like.”

I grind my jaw, averting my gaze before my cheeks heat up.

“I need you to sign here.” Felix produces a pen from his breast pocket, undoing the cap.

“What is this?”

“Your private health and dental, as requested.”

I snatch the pen, signing and dating on the dotted line. “Thanks.” I hand it back over. “I appreciate it.”

Felix’s eyes linger, like I’m a book he’s trying to read. Only the pages are glued together. “Please send the details over for your pole studio and I’ll take care of the membership."

“And my sister’s,” I add.

“Certainly,” says Felix, his gaze sweeping over my face. “For this morning, I need you to clean the bathroom. The water is particularly hard around here and leaves a nasty residue on the shower tiles.”

“Sure thing,” I chirp, heading straight out of the kitchen.

I feel his gaze burning the back of my neck as I go. Son-of-a-bitch. Why is he doing this? He knows I don’t want to talk about what happened in the shower.

I drag myself upstairs, holding onto the gilded banister for support as the world tilts. I lost my virginity. I didn’t use protection. I’m relying on Felix Pozharsky financially. My fees are taken care of in the studio. I can drive his sports cars and help myself to his sugar-free shit in the fridge, but I lose my independence as a result. And that’s the one thing that’s more important than money.

I dig into my back, clipping my hair back. Honeysuckles permeate the air as I walk through the corridors, finding the bathroom.

I flick on the light, switching between different options—heated, normal, vanity only. I select the dimmest option so I can work without seeing my reflection in the mirror.

I’m adjusting latex gloves when my phone rings.

I walk over to my bag, accepting a call from Fleur.

“I don’t start work until eleven if you want to grab a one-dollar coffee from Hero Street. I saw what happened last night. We have a lot to discuss.”

Fleur was out last night, definitely having more fun than me. “About that. We need to talk later. I’m working currently.”

“Still?”

I bite my lip. “When I get out of here, we’ll go to Starbucks and have a coffee, all the syrups and everything.”

“I have to work three hours to afford one Starbucks drink.”

“Not anymore,” I say, biting my lip as I hold back excitement. “For thirteen grand a week, we can drown ourselves in coffee.”

“And use one-hundred-dollar bills to wipe our asses with. What the hell is going on?”

“Felix couldn’t sit in his seat and watch me dance like the other guests. He essentially bought me out of the club.”

“He intervened out of jealousy?” says Fleur. “Oh my god, Gossip Central Magazine actually told the truth for once.”

“Yeah, but this stays between us. Father will flip if he hears about this.”