Page 14 of Dirty Arrangement

“He told me that he’d get the drugs off the streets. That means the streets aren’t his main market”

Mia goes on to ask questions that lead to me giving her more details about what happened in Zayne’s office. I’m not exactly comfortable going into this kind of detail with my girlfriends, I never was, but with Mia, it’s something else. Probably because she was where I am now. She understands me on levels on which no one else could. Except maybe Addie, who got crudely propositioned for sex by Jax before they fell hopelessly in love.

“So, let me see if I got it right. He promised to clean the streets of drugs and share control with you over everything else.”

I narrow my eyes on a fixed spot as I ponder. “There’s got to be some deeper scheme here. First of all, clearing the streets of New York of drugs is a utopic objective that entire governments have failed to accomplish. Yet he seemed positively confident when he assured me he’d do it. No-nonsense, like a panzer certain he can bulldoze through everything.” My eyes narrow. “But what if he intends to use me in ways I can’t even think about? What if I’ll only live until I’m done being useful to him?”

“Maybe he just trusts your skills, Sirenna,” Mia argues. “He runs an empire so large no one is aware of its true dimensions, and there’s no way he can run it all by himself. He needs capable people in key positions–it’s probably how he got this far in the first place. And if anyone is capable of handling such a job, it’s you.” She bends from her waist closer to the tub. “Joseph knew that about you, too, which is why he kept you under his boot. Why he wanted to squash you. Now, Zayne Thorngren may be an evil genius, but he’s man enough to let you shine.”

I hug myself under the water, steeling myself against liking the idea.

“First of all, I don’t know if we should be talking about Joseph in the past tense,” I say. “Second of all, the first thing the evil genius who values me did was have me swallow his cum. He may be aware of my skills because he’s watched me for a long time apparently, but he made me his whore before anything else.” The guy with the hidden camera downstairs goes through my mind. How many times has Zayne watched me get shit-faced and grope some guy? I look up into the overhead light, blinking the tears of embarrassment out of my eyes.

I sink to my chin into the water. “I don’t think he doesn’t trust my skills, he just knows he can manipulate me. I’m worth more to him as a puppet in a high position, signing papers, than kidnapped and raped and eventually killed.” I suck in a deep breath, the water heavy on my chest. “I miscalculated, Mia. I couldn’t have been more wrong to expect a socially awkward nerd. I was right to expect an emotional cripple, though, but that’s because guys in his league are like that.” I shake my head, angry with myself.

“Yes, but emotionally crippled villains aren’t evil for the sake of villainy,” she argues. “There’s mostly something dark in their past that made them into monsters. I mean, can it get any darker than what Jax and Declan had to go through?”

My skin pebbles just thinking about it. “Jax and Declan are exceptions. Not all people at the top of the world went through hell like that. Through Joseph, I met quite a few that were pretty damn pampered at home. Being yelled at by a tipsy mother was their greatest trauma, and yet I saw them do things that made my blood curdle.”

“Yes, but those never get quite as powerful as Zayne. Or Jax and Declan for that matter. If you think about it, pampered men are mere tools for apex predators like those. And the apex predators? They’re mostly born out of tragedy, and hatred is their fuel.”

“We need more background about Zayne Thorngren.” My narrowed eyes peek over the bubbles. “Otherwise I have no leverage if shit hits the fan.”

“So we follow the orphanage thread?” She lifts an eyebrow, and I know the dark fetishist in her is looking forward to it. “No matter how dark and twisted that thread gets?”

“We have to. Depending on how fast he eliminates my enemies, I’m gonna have to share everything I have with him eventually. But I can’t leave so much power in Zayne Thorngren’s hands with a clean conscience. The fact that he’s irresistibly handsome and smells like heaven makes things even worse because he’ll have everyone in Joseph’s businesses worshiping at his feet in no time.” I press my thighs together under the water, refusing to acknowledge the heat between them when I think about the man. “He’s an evil seducer spreading his power like cancer, and I’m the only one with a chance to stop him. But for that, I need to get to know him first.”

***

Sirenna

THE BASTARD HAD AN outfit delivered to me with a note that he expects me to wear it at the hotel bar, and I sure as fuck won’t look like a lady in it. A skimpy red silk dress, complete with garter stockings and stilettos.

I’ve always hated how I look in red. For some reason, it makes me slutty where it makes other women powerful.

My heart beats faster as I check myself out in the mirror. I’m gonna need a drink if I am to go downstairs wearing this. The dress barely covers the upper edge of my stockings, my garter showing through the split every time I take a step. I’ve worn sexy clothes before, but this is screaming, “I’m here for dick”. The heels of my stilettos are high enough to show the muscles in my otherwise skinny legs, and when I pull my hair up in a high ponytail, I look even longer and lither. Luckily, Zayne didn’t send any specifics about hair and make-up, so I go for stark eyeshadow and nude lips, no jewelry, in a desperate attempt to add some class to the look.

Turning to the corner bar in the hotel room, I pour myself two fingers of smoky scotch–liquid courage. Damn, I’ve become addicted to this shit.

I take a long look at the glass before I bring it to my lips. I hate who I turn into when I do this, the pathetic version of me that crashes face-first onto the bed, and wakes up feeling like she’s been bludgeoned with a hammer. But how am I supposed to put up with what’s about to happen? Because he said he was going to make a claim on me, establish himself as my protector, and the wickedness in his voice wasn’t lost on me.

He’s gonna want at least another blow job from me tonight.

So I’m only gonna have one, enough to lower my inhibitions and unleash the brash, brave Sirenna. Yet by the time I’m heading down to the bar, my head is already swimming because I didn’t have just one. At least I still have full control of my tongue–I think. I haven’t spoken to anyone yet since I left my room, so there’s no real way of knowing. The slight wobbling in my feet must be due to the high stilettos, but it’s not like anyone is gonna notice, right?

I walk slowly, looking around for Zayne. The bar is packed tonight, but he’s not here yet. I take my usual place at the bar, the one my bartenders always keep free for me. I would have preferred to have Lyvie here tonight, but she’s off to see her parents in Europe, so I have to make do with Marco. He and I met a while back, when Mia and I slipped into the bar where he worked after Mia’s first meeting with Declan. He tried to hit on me that day, which backfired. I was already used to guys trying to worm their way into the beds of rich married women with the ultimate purpose of blackmailing them later on and, honestly, it offended me that he felt I was pathetic enough to fall for his tricks. So I hired him just to show him who I was.

Now, ordering another scotch and remembering the drinks I had upstairs, I’m thinking maybe I am pathetic. It’s probably why Zayne took my mouth in the way he did at his office. I triggered the caveman in him, the darkest instincts of using a woman and leaving her stripped of dignity and full of shame.

Only I don’t feel any shame.

He approaches like a ghost, and I only know he’s here when I smell him. His scent of freshness and power envelops me, firing up my nerve endings. Fuck, it even makes me less drunk.

“There you are, wild flame,” he purrs in that voice that drips with sin. “You look dashing tonight.”

My hand is already limp on the glass of scotch when he takes it and presses his lips on my knuckles. My breathing stutters. I can’t help my eyes dropping to those lips, wondering how they’d feel on mine. I’ll probably never know. Men like him don’t kiss women they face-fuck the way he did with me.

He pulls a barstool so close that he invades my personal space. I can feel the heat of his body on my skin, but when I try to lean back and create some distance between us he grabs my stool from under the edge and pulls me to him, the stool legs scraping the floor.

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