Page 8 of Dirty Deal

Each quiet breath is an effort, but I hold it together long enough to shake hands and stand. I keep my bland mask plastered over my face, and my steps are even as we walk to the office door.

“We’ll start tomorrow,” Weston says, opening the door and waving me through. “Eight PM, princess. Don’t be late.”

I nod but say nothing. My throat is too tight, and I don’t trust myself to speak without my voice cracking. The corridor is cool and quiet as I leave the office, my heels clicking against the floor.

“You know the way out from here.” Weston sounds amused.

The door shuts behind me, muffled footsteps striding away behind the wood, and finally I stagger to one side and slump against the wall. Emotions batter my insides, a whole maelstrom of conflicting feelings. Relief, bitterness, fury,longing.

There are no sounds from inside Weston’s office. No sign that he’s affected by our meeting at all.

It’s several long minutes before I can drag myself upright and walk away, my steps echoing hollowly against the floor. I wind my way out of the casino, hail a cab, and hug my own waist all the way home.

Four

Weston

Part of me thinks she won’t come. That there’s no way Lena Merritt, the spoiled little princess, will ever turn up for her scheduled humiliation the next evening. After all, even with her parents’ safety on the line, since when are any of the Merritts selfless?

Hugh Merritt would never do the same for her, if the situations were reversed. He’d never lower himself to save his daughter. The thought wouldn’t even occur to him as an option, and Lena and I both know it. She’s no fool, whatever else her flaws.

Yet at eight o’clock precisely, there’s a soft knock at my office door. It’s dark outside already, city lights twinkling, but in this building our nights are only just beginning. The casino business is nocturnal by nature, and Lena has arrived for the start of her shift.

“Princess.” I hold the door for her, waving her inside like the gentleman I am not. Lena sails past me into her father’s old office, her chin held high. She’s in that black trench coat again,with strappy high heels clacking against the floor, and again I’m struck by the insane impulse to peel her coat open and see what’s underneath.

“Weston.” Lena spins around to face me once she reaches the center of the floor, and her gaze on me is defiant. Her dark hair is swept up into a high ponytail tonight, the soft tresses tumbling in a waterfall down her back, and it makes her eyes look even bigger, fringed with dark lashes. If she were any other woman, with any other surname, I’d think her gut-punchingly beautiful. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

Lena stiffens when I tut, strolling toward her with my hands in my pockets. Was she always this easy to rile up? Already, I’m enjoying this far more than I thought I would.

“Oh, I don’t think so, princess.” Her left eye twitches minutely at the nickname, and I file that tidbit away in the back of my brain. “Our deal was five nights. Five whole nights of your unquestioning obedience, and if you fail to deliver that…” I shrug, coming to a stop only a few inches away. Even with the borrowed height of her heels, I tower over her slender form. “Then your parents’ debts will go unpaid.”

If glares could incinerate, I’d be a heap of ashes on the floor right now. Lena could scuff me up with the toe of her shoes. “I’m going to deliver.”

“If you say so.” It’s strange seeing her here, in her father’s old office—like a relic from another time. Makes it hard to look away from her, even to blink. “In the meantime, don’t wish away our precious time together, princess. I might take offense.”

There it is: another muted flinch. Lena really does hate that pet name, doesn’t she? Interesting. I’ll be sure to use it as much as possible for the next five nights.

Her whole body jolts with shock when I reach out, tucking an escaped lock of dark hair behind her ear. The strands are glossy and soft, and the shell of her ear is warm. Delicate.Alive.

I snatch my hand back, balling it into a fist and shoving it into my pocket.

My heart thunders.

Why the hell did I do that? My hand moved without instruction from my brain, acting on some buried animal impulse. Like I had any right to touch her. Like I had anydesire.

“What—what do you want me to do first?” Lena asks, a faint blush darkening her cheeks. My casual touch unsettled her too, then. Good. That’s… good.

“Look over there.” I nod toward the far end of the office, where a single floor lamp casts a pool of light. Lena squints in that direction before her gaze drops to the floor, then understanding firms her jaw.

“I see,” she says.

“Do you?”

An irritated huff. Lena glances up at me, and the shock of her honey-brown eyes travels all the way down my spine to my toes. “You want me to shine your shoes, Weston. Is that correct?”

“Almost.” There are dozens and dozens of pairs of shoes laid out there on the office floor, far more than even the vainest man could possibly need. “I want you to shine the shoes of every staff member in the Merritt. And I want you to do a good job, Lena, because you won’t finish until I’m satisfied.”

Ariq looked at me like I’d lost my mind earlier when I told him to source these shoes, but it’s all worth it now as Lena’s shoulders bunch up defensively around her ears. She stares toward the rows and rows of shoes at the far end of the room, and vicious pleasure curls in my gut as she grits her teeth and nods.

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