Page 11 of Black Velvet

I take a sip of my drink, feeling the burn wash down my throat. "What are you doing here?"

My abrupt question startles her. She swallows hard, putting the glass down on the bar top before she turns to me, her surprised eyes questioning.

"What do you mean?" she stammers.

She gestures down her body, my eyes following her hand as it travels along the outline of her white corset, her perky cleavage pushed up almost seemingly to her chin, the laced wrist cuffs, the French manicured nails.

"I'm an angel," she says. "Here for company, but not for—"

"I know what youshouldbe doing," I interrupt. "That's not what I'm asking."

She tenses up, her eyes locking onto mine while she processes my words. Her demeanor has changed from apathetic to highly alert, as if she's afraid of getting caught. I’m suddenly struck by a dark suspicion and the blood runs cold in my veins.

Is she not here of her own free will? Is she being forced to work here?

No, thatcan'tbe it. She's a Violent Delights girl. I saw her when I was here visiting Miss Barry several months ago, and she confirmed that she worked here.

So why is she acting so out of place? The thought incites a flurry of questions to streak through my mind. Why does she look at me like that? Why do her shoulders rise up to her ears? Why is she biting her lip like that? Why are her refined fingers fiddling nervously with the glass in front of her?

"You look uncomfortable," I observe. "You're the only person in this room who looks fucking uncomfortable."

She flinches.

"Is that why you came up to me? To complain?"

"I'm not complaining," I object, shaking my head. "Just observing."

She takes another sip from her drink, a rather big one this time.

"I'm sorry," she says solemnly, as she places the glass back on the counter. "I guess I'm just nervous. It's my first day."

"It's everybody's first day here," I remind her.

She frowns. "Yes, but I mean..."

"And you're not new to the agency."

Her gaze turns to me, and this time she doesn't even try to hide her irritation. "How would you know that?"

I shrug. "It's true isn't it?"

She bites at her lip again and her eyes drop, idly resting on the Manhattan. Her shoulders tuck in and sink, signaling defeat. I don't like that look on her, and what bothers me even more is that I don't understand it. Something is bothering her, and I can’t figure out what it is. I hate it when people don't let me read them.

"Look at me," I demand, and she complies immediately. Her eyes obediently find mine in a robotic motion, even though her focus lacks conviction. She's the type of girl who will go down on her knees if you tell her to, the type of girl who will spread her legs for you, the type of girl who aims to please, without asking for anything in return except payment from a satisfied client.

I can handle that type. I've had years of practice.

Chapter 9

Elene

I fucked up.

I don't know what it is with me tonight, but I'm seriously failing to do my damn job. He's right; it's the first night for everybody here. Yet I seem to be the only one struggling. I know all there is to know about this club, and whether we’re dressed in black or white, we all have our corresponding instructions.

There are far fewer angels than devils, because we all know what these men want. They're not here for angels, they're here to play. They’re here to discover the rooms upstairs, and they’re seeking out the girls who will accompany them up the spiral staircase to learn about them firsthand.

Still, he insists on sitting here with me. My nervousness was bad from the get-go, but it only got worse oncehesat down next to me.

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