Page 6 of Vicious

I circle the chair, taking the time to gather my thoughts. When I’m back in front of Chase, I lean in, arching my back so I’m nearer to his body. I should straddle him, getting on the chair that’s made for just this, but even though he’s slender, he’s still wider than I am. Sitting up on my knees won’t give me much clearance, and it means I’ll have to rub my body against his.

“Oh,” I say, my voice wobbling a little. What’s Baba going to do without a job? Without me there to work for him? Will he lose the house?

More body parts?

His life?

“I…” I look at him, biting my bottom lip. “I’d been hoping… I’d thought… Maybe…”

Chase looks from my breasts up to my face. “You were hoping?”

I reluctantly slide onto the chair, resting my hands on his thighs as I keep myself up as far away as I can from him. It doesn’t matter what I was hoping, not anymore. I can’t offer myself as leverage. I can’t promise to date him and even let him fuck me while I’m working here. There’s no way Giulio would allow me to offer Chase anything for free.

The despair threatens to crush me, but I’m not going to let something like this break me. I shake my head, trying to focus on this half-hearted mockery of a lap dance.

Chase reaches up to cup one of my breasts, and he pinches my nipple between two fingers through the thin fabric.

A shudder runs through me, and I have to fight not to let out a quiet sound that wouldn’t quite be solely of pain. He’s not the first to touch me—and he sure as hell won’t be the last—but he’s the only man who’s made me react this way.

I press my breast against his hand, closing my eyes as I try to force myself to think about being anywhere but here, with anyone but him.

That’s laughable. There’s never been anyone else.

Other men have shown interest in me, but I’ve never had time to date. I’ve always been too busy, too focused on surviving, to slow down and let myself do things other women my age are doing.

Chase has been the only one to persist, and I’d rejected and shunned him time and again. How can I expect him to help me when I’ve made it clear I want nothing to do with him?

“Maybe I should hire you for a more private dance,” Chase says, loosening his hold on my nipple for a split second only to pinch it harder. “I hear they offer that here.”

My eyes fly open, and I stare at him. I’ve never thought he was a nice guy before. No one as successful as he is in the cutthroat world of New Bristol’s elite could be. But I wouldn’t have expected him to take advantage of me like this.

“Please don’t,” I whisper, even as I remind myself to be strong. This is temporary. He’ll be here, then gone, then the humiliation will be over.

Until the next man demands my attention, at least, when it’ll reset and start all over again.

But it won’t be so bad.

Because it won’t be Chase, whose touch sends sparks through me, who threatens to make my body react to touches that should have me utterly turned off.

“No? Aren’t you in desperate need of cash?” Chase moves his hands down to my ass and squeezes tightly, his nails digging into my skin. “I’m sure they won’t mind if I leave a few bruises.”

Bruises to press against, bruises to distract myself from this terrible new reality with, bruises to free myself from the mental agony. I would welcome that sort of pain, and I can’t even deny it to myself.

None of my clients so far have been able to afford to take me to the private rooms. There had been one who’d suggested it, but the rate Donny had given him had made him balk and grumble and choose someone else.

“The price is high, apparently,” I say through gritted teeth, trying not to luxuriate in the pain of his touch as it sweeps away some of my struggles and replaces them with dread.

Chase leans in closer, his lips far too close to mine. “Funny. Money is no object to me.” He scratches along my sides, and I think he really is trying to mark me now. “I wonder what else I could do with all my funds, since they’re languishing in my bank account.”

“You could help people,” I mumble, squirming as his nails rake my skin. “Like my father. I could… I could show you a really good time if you help my father.”

“I don’t need to help anyone to make you show me a good time,” Chase says. “I just need to talk to the managers.”

Of course he does.

“Is there any empathy in your cold, black heart?” I hear the harsh words come out of my mouth before they even register with my brain, and I’m instantly alarmed at what I’ve dared to say. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m…” I press myself against him, breasts rubbing against his chest as I try to distract him from the faux pas that could land me in a world of trouble if Donny or Elena found out about it.

But Chase laughs. “No. That’s why it’s cold and black.” He nips at my ear. “Go on. Beg for me to help you,” he says in Chinese. “Beg me to save your Baba.”

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