Page 50 of The Muse
“Intimidation doesn’t work on me, Landon. Especially not from a fucking Broderick.”
“I swear to God, you’ll pay with your life if you don’t–”
“She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? And I am horny as fuck.”
He charges at that, both feet rushing at me as if he’s got the upper hand again. He hasn’t, not this morning. And certainly not in this open space. I’m almost bouncing as he dodges and tries to get hold of me, regardless of the pain in my ribs. He’s too slow. Too arrogant. And too fucking overconfident.
“I thought a lawyer would be quicker than this,” I say, weaving. One heavy fist skims my face, his other hand trying to get my arm. I’ve ducked out of the way of both before he gets a chance at either. “Maybe they’re not.”
He eventually stops trying and stands perfectly still, like a mask of something just dropped into place. A conceited mask at that. Jeans today, though. Not quite so immaculate. T-shirt and a zipped-up black hoodie. I look him over, unsure if I’ve ever seen him look so casual. And then there’s nothing but him looking at me, some sneered flat line of hate etched into his features. It’s probably useful in a courtroom, but for me, it’s nothing but a man who just got outsmarted when it comes to the second round of fighting.
“Leave. Her. Alone, Foxton.”
I chuckle mildly. That’s all he’s got? Another pointed threat? “You’ve got nothing on me, Landon. If I feel like taking her, I will. Not that I really want her now, but you’ve got a company out of the twisted deal you drew down. I get the girl. Suck it up, big boy.”
His cheeks twitch as if those teeth are grating like a bitch under there. Another chuckle rumbles through me as I start backing up towards the gate. Seffi’s not here, that much I know. If she was, she’d be out here by now after the noise he’s created. So, I turn and walk back to the car to drive off out of his view. I don’t head back to town. I pull over at the end of their ridiculous drive behind one of the trees that edge their property to wait instead.
Wherever she is, it's the same place that Landon will be going next. There isn’t a cat's chance in hell he’ll have anything else on his mind now but getting her as far away from me as he possibly can. And I want to do this in front of him. I could just call her again, but arranging to meet isn’t good enough for me now.
I want his pain.
Sure to my thoughts, I hear the sound of a car engine fire out from their driveway, and watch as a black Aston Martin peels off, cruising past me. Engine started, I follow as far behind as I can without losing him. It’s not easy in London, but I manage to keep a track on the Aston as it weaves quickly and changes lanes.
Half an hour later and he finally ends up turning into some underground parking beside an old Victorian building. I pull in much farther back and wait, my gaze ambling around while I try to figure out why Seffi would be anywhere near a place like this. It’s not for the likes of her, even if she is a Broderick. It’s seedy and dirty, backend alley’s giving away the exact appeal of the women around here. Maybe he wasn’t going to Seffi at all. What the hell a lawyer–a Broderick–is doing in this part of town, though, is completely unknown.
He comes back around the corner a few minutes later, his hood pulled up, as he heads towards a black, unmarked doorway and slips inside. Intrigue gets the better of me, and I get out and follow, head down against the oncoming people. A few more strides and I’m in the same doorway, fingers reaching for the handle. A big guy greets me the second I get through it. He looks me over briefly and then starts counting money again, barely any acknowledgement of who or what I am.
“Cash only,” he says.
I look along the corridor, already understanding exactly what type of place this is by the smell of heat and sweat that’s wafting my way. “How much?”
“Five hundred per hour. Half for half.”
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my wallet and sift through, fingering the notes to add up to two hundred and fifty pounds. It folds into his hand, and he waves me through after unlocking a vault-like door. “Out by twelve,” he says. “Knock twice for exit. We’ll find you if you’re not.”
The door closes me in, and I move forward slowly, eyes taking in the sights and my ears trained on the moans gently echoing through the building. Steps lead me down into a darker area, and the heat intensifies to almost fucking furnace proportions. A bar stands off to the side, The Priory written into the surface, and there are at least two dozen women ambling around in little to no clothing at all.
“Hey, handsome,” one of them says, coming up to my side. “You’re a new one. You here to fuck or watch?”
I’m here to find ammunition. Nothing more than that. Looks like I might have found it. Still, I can’t help but notice her half-exposed breasts, both of them encased in intricate black leather straps and studs. “Watch.”
“A peepin’ Tom, huh? You should meet the boss,” she says, giggling. “What’s the fantasy?” Her hand reaches for mine, a glass of champagne pulled off a passing tray, as she walks me past the bar area. “Do you like them dirty, or sweet?”Both.
I chuckle and follow as she leads me through a door, gaze focusing so I can find him. That’s all I want here. Not that some of what I’m trying to bypass isn’t appealing as hell. Especially considering the low, dank sense of dirt and grime this place has, masquerading behind delusions of grandeur, but not today.
“Private booths are through that door,” she says, waving her bare arm at a door. “Or the viewing gallery is over to the left. Depends on if you’ll be beating off or pretending you’re not.” She spins to look at me, her eyes dropping to my crotch and the subtle pink lips widening. “Or another hundred and I can do it for you?”
Forward. I suppose prostitutes are, though. “Thank you, but no.”
“Shame. Next time.”
Breaking away from her, I head to the viewing platform, all the time trying to keep my head down and body as invisible as possible. It isn’t until I manage to find a small corner unoccupied that I eventually lift my head to look around again. Men line the seats, most of them transfixed on two girls playing with each other on a small stage area. No sight of Landon, though. My neck cranes to look around the corner, trying to get a view of who’s in the private booths from this high up, and that’s when I see the blond hair.
Standing, I weave back to where I originally came from and back up into another dark corner, phone already in my hand. Landon Broderick, new upcoming CEO of the largest media corporation in the UK, a pervert.
The thought makes me chuckle and settle in to hide for a while. Think of the damage that could do to his credibility. Getting hold of his precious little sister was going to be enough of a hit, but add this into the mix, and that's one hell of a review on him to play with.
A woman, dressed in less than the last one, wanders by his doorway, and I move out to stop her. “Are you free—for a hundred?” I ask, getting the money out of my wallet. She looks confused, and then immediately looks at my crotch just like the other one did. “No. Just lean by the side of that door and touch yourself. That’s all I want from you.” It really is. I just need her, her barely dressed body, and a shot of him leaving beside her.
