Page 4 of The Beast of London & His Pet

“It isn't an illegal substance,” I blurted out. “I’m sorry. You can take the rest of it. A gift for your girlfriend or wife when you can’t—I mean just for fun.”

“I don't need Viagra to fuck,” he spat out. “Where is the rest of it? There is no way you only have a few pills.”

“In my boots,” I said, cringing at the fact that I brought so much with me, but it was Friday night, most of my customers bought extra for the entire weekend.

He dropped to his knees and began to search around my ankles until he found the pills stuffed in my socks. It was kinda funny having the Beast kneeling in front of me. I took them out of the packaging and into small bags to easily distribute them.

“Any more?” he asked, holding four small bags of blue pills.

“Maybe if you untie my—”

“Where are they?” he gritted out.

“You should consider a mindfulness coach, it helps with—”

I shut my mouth when he lifted his gun.

“In my bra,” I said sullenly.

“Fucking unbelievable,” he muttered as he put the gun beside me before he pulled my top down.

He paused to look at my dark green lace bra. My cheeks burned because it was an expensive lace bra from my undeclared income. The lace was so delicate it was practically see through. I closed my eyes while he fished out more bags.

There was a hesitation before he pulled my top back up, but I kept my eyes shut because I had one more stash.

“Was that the last of it?” he asked with his voice a little calmer.

I grimaced and he sighed.

“Where is it?” he asked while I took a good hard look at myself and how I ended up here.

“Uh, just tucked into the front of my jeans,” I said quietly.

I felt him unbutton my jeans before he tugged on the zipper. I opened my eyes but hadn't realised he was so close to my face. His eyes were a mixture of green and hazel, with tiny flecks of yellow in them, but he certainly didn't look like a beast. The rough stubble on his jaw made it look more chiselled and his lips were full and well defined. So kissable.

He pulled the last few bags from my jeans and threw them on the pile beside the gun. I noticed that he didn't zip me back up. He sat on his chair again to look at me.

“Do I need to conduct a cavity search?” he asked with sarcasm dripping from his asshole mouth.

Ugh, why did I think his mouth was kissable. Pretty men were high maintenance and most likely whores.

“No, that was the last of them,” I said, glaring at him.

“Where do you get your pills from?” he asked, resting his hands on the chair like it was his throne.

“I have a supplier in Europe,” I said, deliberately keeping my answer vague.

His eyes narrowed on me.

“What age are you and why don't you have a proper job?”

He had the cheek being a criminal bastard. I heard he was a wealthy one, but he was still a criminal bastard.

“I havethreejobs. London isn't cheap. I’m twenty-four.”

“The fact is Francesca you came into my club selling this shit and that can't go unpunished. If you put yourself into this position, then you need to learn that actions have consequences,” he said as he leaned into his chair.

“What do you mean consequences? You have taken everything from me,” I said with a frown.

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