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Dante stiffens next to me, and I bite my lip, wondering what's going through his mind. In all the years I've been here, I've never seen Jenkins do something like this. There's a system in place, but when they tried to take over Synd, shit went south fast. Jenkins refused to move headquarters there until they'd established a foothold, which meant I was never there. If he would have made the move early, maybe I'd finally be free.
"I know enough about Synd. We don’t need him," Anders hisses, leaning across the desk.
Jenkins bares his teeth at him. "This is not up for discussion, Anders. Remember your place."
Anders explodes from the chair, slamming his hands on the desk. "When this blows up in your face, don't come crawling back to me."
He shoves away, marching for the door, and Dante easily sidesteps him. His arm brushes mine, sending a shiver through me. I tell myself it's from the cold and nothing more. There's something about this man that sets him apart from the others in this place. It makes me nervous in a way I'm not used to.
The door slams, rattling the picture behind me. Dante nudges me further into the corner, and I wobble on my heels. His hand curls into a fist, as if he was going to steady me but thought better of it.
"I apologize for his outburst." The words are ripped from Jenkins as if it's physically painful for him to say he's sorry. Typical.
Dante waves his hand, dismissing whatever else Jenkins is going to say. "It's fine. Anders seems to have a personal vendetta against Synd, which isn't surprising."
Jenkins raises an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
The roguish grin Dante sends him seems more natural than anything else he's done so far. It softens his eyes just enough to make him more human. Tucking his hands in his pockets, he rocks back on his heels.
"I believe a relationship could benefit both of us."
"I’m aware of what you have to offer. But what is it you want from us, Cruz?" Jenkins asks, pushing from his chair and rounding the desk.
I stiffen as he approaches, swallowing down the bile his presence elicits within me every time he's close. Dante steps forward until I'm tucked behind him slightly. Narrowing my eyes at his back, my gaze skips over his shoulder to Jenkins. Dante tilts his head as if he's contemplating it, but the tension in his shoulders says he knows exactly what he's going to ask for.
"Her, to begin with," he growls, his voice rolling through the room, a thunder holding the promise of a deadly storm within its depths.
The older man doesn't even bother to glance at me. I'm nothing to him. Nothing more than property he can direct where he wants. He won't give me up, though. Jenkins has never allowed anyone else to touch me. Not out of the goodness of his heart, since he doesn't have any of that left in his body, if he ever had any to begin with, but merely for control. No, he'll tell Dante to pick something else.
"Done." Jenkins holds out his hand, shaking Dante's before retreating back to his desk. "If that's all, we'll plan to meet later in the week. As you can see, we run our operation mostly at night, given our clientèle, but if you prefer another time, let Aelia know. She'll still be needed here, but you're free to do whatever you wish with her outside of her regular duties."
Dante nods, wrapping his hand around my upper arm as Jenkins hands over a black keycard. Ice floods my veins as I stare at Jenkins. Ever since my father sold me, dozens of men and even some women have offered to take me off the leader’s hands. Grant, my handler, has tried on more than one occasion to overstep the boundaries Jenkins set up regarding me.
Dante tugs me toward the door, and I stumble. Shock has rendered me useless at this point, and my body trembles. Maybe he doesn't know the rules and he'll take me outside of headquarters. Then I could make my escape, though I'd prefer to not do it in what I'm wearing. Nightmare images flash through my mind of what he has planned for me. I've seen enough within these walls to know it never ends well for those of us who were sold or taken.
"Oh, Cruz, one last thing. Make sure she's still intact when you bring her back. Do whatever you'd like to her body but refrain from breaking her mind. It would be unpleasant to have to find another receptionist."
I shudder, wrapping my free arm around my waist.
"No promises, Jenkins," Dante chuckles and Jenkins joins in.
He yanks me into the hallway as Grant rounds the corner. I shuffle closer to Dante, though I don't expect him to save me.
"Sir, this one is off-limits. Why don't we find you someone more suitable?" Grant says in the suave tone he reserves for clients.
Grant reaches for me, his beefy hand circling my upper arm, then I'm in the middle, stuck in a sick game of tug-of-war. My ankle rolls, my knee gives out, and I tumble into Dante's hard body. He slides his arm around my waist, molding me to him, and my stomach tightens as his hand grips my exposed skin. Grant still refuses to let go, and Dante mutters a curse only I can hear.
He twists, his fist flying out and landing on Grant's jaw with a sickening crack. My handler goes down hard and when he glances at Dante, blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.
"I suggest you speak with Jenkins if you have a problem. This one is mine for the foreseeable future. Please inform the others I don't like others touching my things. Now get the fuck out of here before I put a bullet in you."
Grant's mouth drops open before he scrambles up, giving us a wide berth as he hustles for the office. He'll bellow and complain to Jenkins, who will probably do nothing. And Grant will take all this out on me.
After Dante's little display, I'm sure Grant won't leave bruises, at least for now, but there are other ways to torture a person that don’t leave marks. I'm sure the man tugging me toward the stairs won't care, though.
"Where's your room?" he grunts, glancing up and down the hallway before pulling me around a corner.
"There are several places, sir," I whisper to hide the fear I'm sure will come through.
