Page 84 of A Dash of You

I’m not sure how long he sat there with me in silence, but I must have fallen asleep because when I woke, it’s my bed that sits beneath me. With Lana sound asleep next to me.

It’s the middle of the night, so I let all the exhaustion consume me. I’ll let my past stay in the past for just one more night.

Logan

A rage I’ve never felt before rushes through me as I kick my door closed, waiting for Crew to answer.

He better fucking answer.

“Hey, man, right now isn’t a good time. I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“I don’t give a fuck who’s in your bed. I need your help.”

There’s shuffling and a loud noise on the other end, like his cell phone hit the ground.

“Shit. Hang on.”

In the background, I can’t make out much except hushed voices and then quiet.

“Okay. Hit me.”

“Are you still able to contact Spencer? In private?” There’s a quiet pause and I know it’s a lot to ask, but this is the only way. “Crew.”

“Fuck, man. What’s up?”

“I need you to give him a name. Jason Whitlock. I want to know everything. Where he does business. Where he eats. Down to his favorite fucking color. Got it?”

“Yeah. I got it.” Another pause and I’m about to hang up when he asks, “Does this have anything to do with Sora? Is she okay?”

“She will be.” I hang up, grinding my molars together in a fury that has me begging for that man on a silver platter.

I’m more certain about this than anything else in my life. I will make him pay and regret the things he’s done to her.

Simplicity suits me. I keep to myself. Mind my own business. But for Sora, I’d burn down the fucking world.

Twenty-Seven

“It’s your first time. It’s natural to be unsure.” My husband presses his lips to my cheek to soothe me. Comfort me. But it only makes my stomach twist in repulsion.

The VIP rooms inside Jason’s club are dark, with only a couple of lights above illuminating red. The wrap around black couch hugs the wall and there’s a pole in the center. My hands are clammy, and I wipe them on my short black dress Jason put me in. It’s been five years since we married and when he came to me telling me it’s time to make myself something other than a homemaker, I assumed he was meaning a hobby. Something I can be passionate about. But not this. This is unexpected, to say the least, and I’ve never felt more used. Taken advantage of in my life.

To say I have a choice in anything would be a lie. I lived under Jason’s roof. His rules. There is no getting out, so what choice did I have?

“You look perfect, my darling. Just think of this as purely a job. A way to please me and I will treat you to something nice with the money you earn tonight. I’m doing this because I love you.”

I stare straight ahead into the room, and I want to vomit. His words are meaningless. I know that, but I plant a smile on my face, anyway. “I know. Thank you.” I’m delusional.

Jason’s hand slowly moves down my lower back, cupping my ass. “Now be a good girl.”

I kiss his cheek and enter the VIP lounge. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. My husband told me the men aren’t allowed to touch me, so I suppose I can be grateful for that.

But as I enter the room, three men rake their gazes down and across my body and, in that moment, I wanted to die.

I jolt awake, springing into a sitting position. I’m safe. It’s okay. I’m at Lana’s with a tray of pancakes, fruit, and orange juice sitting on my nightstand.

The door creaks open and in walks Lana. “Okay. I know they aren’t going to taste like yours, but I’ve tested them, and I’d give them a six out of ten. I even poured caramel drizzle over them. Oh, and I squeezed the oranges with my bare hands.”

I pick up a strawberry as Lana sits down on the other side of the bed. “This is sweet of you. Thank you.”

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