Page 5 of Cruel Dominion

He looked like a devil in saint’s clothing, and not for the first time I wondered how exactly he managed to climb so high. I knew the rumors courtesy of Tumblr, Reddit, and about a dozen other sites I encountered in my semi-regular online stalking. Supposedly Carter did some very shady shit to clamor out of the muck and into the gleaming spires of his company building.

Some anonymous accounts alluded to things like blackmail and mafia-connections, while others accused him of far worse. But if the coroner said it was an accident or natural causes, then it was an accident or natural causes, right? People could be so dramatic.

I closed the company page and opened the third link, a feature with a business magazine about his meteoric rise to success. These pictures were better. Besides a couple of pictures of him at his office, there were some more candid-style photos at his home. Photographers used stunt homes for these kinds of things all the time, but if it really was his house, we lived in the same neighborhood now.

Would I run into him? Did I want to?

I tossed my phone away, unable to look at his face anymore, feeling the lure of the beach that I could see outside the doors to the veranda off my room. How many nights had I climbed down the lattice to the patio stones below and run off down the hedge path and out to the sandy shore?

Too many.

If I were careful, I wouldn’t have to see his face again. I’d stay long enough to secure my safety and figure out where to go next.

Carter wouldn’t ever know I was here.

2

CARTER

“Mr. Cole. Welcome. I trust you’re having a good evening.”

The overeager clerk at the front desk straightened his tie as I stepped out of the elevator.

His bright eyes slid to my collar, where I knew there were at least a few crimson stains, and he blinked in surprise. Not my blood of course, but he wouldn’t ask. They knew better than that now.

“Can’t complain, Chris,” I replied, using the name on his tag like a warning as he slid me the key card to the penthouse luxury suite and I passed him two fifties.

“H-have a fantastic night, sir,” he said, plastering a big ass grin on his face. I wasn’t paying him for giving me a key, I was paying for discretion. I had a standing reservation at the InterContinental’s penthouse suite every two weeks. Last night, a woman named Katerina arrived and checked in under my name.

Katerina. No last name and obviously not her real name. Usually, I worked with agencies to book the most exclusive, professional girls they had, but Katerina was an independent. She was in the background of a group picture on another girl’s profile and the agency said they didn’t know who she was, but they were willing to find her for me.

She was my first Czech girl. Perfect English, professional website, and guaranteed disease and drug-free even though I never fucked without a condom.

My biweekly sessions at the Intercontinental were one of the only indulgences I allowed myself. My reward for slogging through paperwork and smiling for the press. To be fucking honest, I think I preferred wading through grave dirt and collecting on debts.

Tonight I got a taste of that old hustle since my connections were too busy with issues of their own. My knuckles still ached, and I relished every second of the pain.

I arranged flights and accommodation for the women. I only ever wanted them for about a weekend at a time, so they were handsomely compensated. Sometimes, if they were around and I was in a mood, they would act as my dates to work functions and events. Never the same girl twice. It drove the media and the debutantes drooling for my attention absolutely mad.

But any press was good press. And these pretty European women were likely part of the reason I was dubbed the most eligible bachelor of the year. As if I would ever marry.

I let myself into the freesia-scented suite, letting the door click shut behind me.

“My love?” an accented voice called from inside one of the bedrooms.

I froze, my upper lip curling.

A woman, naked save for a loosely tied hotel robe came into the foyer. It was definitely Katerina. I’d jerked it to partial nudes of her for the past week. I’d know those tits anywhere.

Katerina was a leggy blonde with 250ccs of saline in each breast, a pretty face, and a petite frame. For the small price of a first-class round trip, hotel booking, and ten thousand dollars consideration, she was all mine.

She closed the distance between us and threw her arms around my neck.

“I waited so long, I thought you weren’t coming,” she cooed.

“I—” She silenced me with her mouth. Her lips against mine felt wrong in the worst sort of way. The taste of her foreign and unwelcome on my tongue. I gripped her arms, yanking her back as I broke the kiss with a sneer.

“I waited for you so we could order dinner together. What do you want to have?”

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