Page 40 of Saviors

Ivette laughed. The sound was deep and rich. It was so unfamiliar. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard laughter. “I don’t shit where I eat. This is work.”

As I sipped my drink, I wondered what kept the clients in line. Certainly there would be people who tried to push the rules. People who slipped through the cracks. “If your system works so well, then how did I end up here with…Simon?”

“We give invitations to select clients so they can invite friends. It allows them a chance to experience the club before they become a member. It’s how we grow our business.” Ivette’s eyes burned with anger. Her show of emotion had my throat tightening. “Somehow he got a hold of an invitation.”

“Lucky me.” A shudder ran through my body. I hated to think where I’d be if he hadn’t brought me here. Being in a sex club was better than being locked in a closet.

“How are you doing, honey?” She reached her hand out, but I tucked mine back in my lap before she could grab it. There was no pity in her gaze, only understanding.

“I’m okay.”

“I’m around if you want to talk.” She reminded me again. She’d been a frequent visitor at the house. I still wasn’t sure of her relationship with the guys, but it was nice to have a friend. Someone who cared enough to offer support even if I couldn’t accept it.

“So, how did you end up here?” I asked, trying to take the attention off me. “How did you meet the guys?”

“Long story.” She smiled, but the edges cracked. I saw the truth in her eyes. However they’d met was painful for her. I wondered if she was an ex. Or an on again, off again girlfriend.

My guts twisted, but it wasn’t fear this time. It felt suspiciously like jealousy. It was insane. I had no claim over them. I was a victim they’d taken in. Someone they saved. Not a girlfriend.

But curiosity got the better of me. “Did you ever…”

I slid my finger through the condensation running down my glass as my voice trailed off. How could I ask her about them? Be suspicious when she’d only been nice to me.

“What?” She raised a brow. In response, I tilted my head towards a couple behind her who were engaged in an intense make-out session. “No.” Ivette burst out laughing. “Never. They’re like brothers to me.”

I couldn’t explain the relief flooding my veins. I didn’t want her to see it, so I reached for my drink. The cool liquid calmed some of the emotions burning through me. “How’s your sister?”

Her lips curved into a smile, but she let me change the subject again. She was easy to be around. I’d never had someone I could just be myself with. “Better. She’ll move into a new facility soon. Hopefully, that will help.”

I had no idea how she did it all. Ran the club. Took care of a disabled sister. I admired her. Her strength. Her kindness.

She stood, smoothing down her dress. “Well, I’ve got to get back.” Her gaze softened as she looked at me. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

Men all around the room turned as she sauntered away. I’m sure they were seeing the same thing I was. Someone beautiful and smart. Strong and sexy.

My throat closed as I focused on the ice in my glass. Had I ever been like that? Or was I broken even before?

The couple next to me whispered to each other in between kisses. Smiles stretched across their faces. Their eyes gleamed with excitement. It looked so easy. To be touched. To smile.

I wondered if I’d feel desire again. Feel desirable. Or was I destined to be a victim for the rest of my life?

There was only one way to find out. Only one place I felt comfortable enough to try.

22

Violet

My limbs trembled as I crossed the club to find Ivette. But like she said, no one approached me. She was talking to the coat check attendant when I tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey, where are the guys?”

She shrugged. “Probably in their offices.” She tilted her head in the direction I’d just come. “Take the stairs behind the bar.”

“Thanks.”

My heart hammered in my chest. Butterflies floated in my stomach. An electricity raced under my veins. I felt a little crazy. A little reckless, but something was pushing me forward. If I hadn’t watched him make my drink, I would’ve thought the bartender had spiked it.

My heels clicked on the wrought iron stairs. But instead of making me feel confident, the sound grated on my frayed nerves.

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