Page 28 of Promiscuous Lies

“Are you sure you’re prepared for the money to come at the expense of someone taking from you and using your body in the process?” I ask clinically. She flinches. I try my hardest to soften my tone.

“You don’t have to do this. This is not the only option to make money,” I tell her, and her bottom lip wobbles. “If you don’t feel like you’ll be empowered by this decision, then you should leave. You’re safe here, but we won’t force you to do anything.” I bend down and pick up her bra from the floor.

When I hand it to her, tears begin to spill over her cheeks. “I n-need the money to h-help my little sister. She n-needs chemo. If we don’t… then—” She can’t finish the sentence.

“Corinne,” I call loudly for my assistant, who schedules all of my virginity auctions. “Please escort her to gather her things.”

“No, please—” The girl’s mouth immediately snaps shut as my cold stare lands on her.

I continue. “See what jobs we have available. Perhaps we can manage an advance that’s paid off over the duration of her employment.”

The woman seems surprised but tries to keep her sobs in as she says, “Thank you,” and hurriedly leaves the room.

“Yes, sir,” Corinne says. I wave her off and face my cousin again, who raises his scarred eyebrow.

“Well, well, well. Isn’t someone becoming soft,” he says, following me into my office.

“I don’t need to hear that from you,” I berate as I sit behind my desk. I have many offices but have only recently found the one at Pearl to be my favorite. Most likely because it brings me entertainment in the form of a particular little monster who thinks it’s appropriate to throw things at me.

“Touché.” He glances at his ring and smirks as he takes the seat across from me. I try not to roll my eyes at the lovesick fool as I pour us a glass of whiskey.

I’m not convinced by anyone who tries to tell me that marriage is anything but a contract where you lose your fucking mind and ambition.

Fucking pussy-whipped asshole.

Though, he’d pull a gun on me if I voiced that.

“How’s married life?” I don’t care about it; I’d rather avoid having the focus on myself. I look at my phone, pissed, as I see she still hasn’t responded to my friend request on Instagram. I’m hardly on the fucking app and only use it for PR purposes that a team manages for me. But the fact that she won’t add me has me wildly irritated for some reason. It’s like she goes out of her way to fight me on every little thing. The closer I try to get to her, the more she resists. And it’s driving me insane. I’ve never had this issue with a woman.

“Fucking amazing. I’m obsessed with her,” Eli says without hesitation.

“I can tell,” I reply, distracted by my phone as I look over my last text message, waiting for Posie to respond. I sent her a text an hour ago, telling her to meet me tonight for dinner, and she still hasn’t replied. That’s when I notice Eli’s silence and look up. “What?”

“Are you jealous?” he asks, leaning forward in his chair.

I can tell when he’s intentionally trying to push my buttons. In fact, I’m incredibly gifted at it myself. Pissing people off is what we do best. I don’t like it when the woman I’ve set my eyes on is doing it to me.

“No.”

“Interesting. Because I heard rumors about a blonde girl at a certain club…”

I raise a brow at him. News travels fast.

“What did the twins say?” I growl.

“That you were acting weird around a dancer.”

“I told you; I’m keeping an eye on her and her association with the Boston Delinquents club.”

“Is that all, though?” he asks. “Because you haven’t mentioned hiring Will yet for intel about her. And that’s very unlike you. You usually go for the most efficient route, so why are you looking into this personally?”

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me for looking out for you?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I don’t think the Boston Delinquents are going to be a problem. I met with their new president, Waylon Striker, a few weeks ago, and we’re in the midst of negotiations. Nothing’s solidified yet, though, and if I were them, I’d definitely be putting spies in where I can. But I think we’ve come to an understanding.”

“Which is exactly why I have to get to the bottom of this,” I say, glancing back at my phone.

Eli doesn’t seem convinced. “Hawke said she’s a looker.”

---