Page 20 of Petal

Maybe if I keep her for a short while with the intention to let her go, I can use that needy pussy of hers.

She wants me—her body language is obvious no matter how she tries to hide it. I have a feeling she uses sex to get what she wants. I might grant her what she wants. We’ll see.

But she is on Zion for something else. I’ve watched her on the Eastside. I can’t count how many times she looked in the cameras set up in places that no one ever noticed before.

She is too cocky—only nineteen, makes sense. She needs to learn some manners. And there is a way.

Katura Ortiz’s naked body splayed spread eagle on my black bedsheets would look great.

My cock stirs to life.

Yes, I need to get laid.

Margot gets up and, taking tiny sips of her Martinez, sashays around me like a cat with her tail turned up, ready to serve me.

“You are ignoring my questions,” she purrs, then pouts as she stops in front of me.

And I need to ignore my needs. I should knock one out to release tension. There is too much going on.

“I need you to check on the latest samples and the DNA charts,” I say, changing the screen to the latest lab results.

Margot pouts more visibly and tosses her pink hair back.

I flicker a glance at her, noticing her turn around toward the door.

“Also,” I say, lowering my gaze to my phone, “tell Amir that the Emirates just wired a payment.”

“You thinking of getting another secretary?” she asks without turning, the clicking of her high heels against the stone floor angrier as she approaches the door. Her irritation is irritating.

“I have two,” I answer not looking up. She knows that. And knows I don’t like dealing with them.

“Then why am I doing it?”

“Because I trust you.”

With work, that is.

The door slams loudly behind her.

A mile-long list of things to do is in my head again.

But first and foremost, I need to track Droga.

It’s late afternoon and still no sign of him.

10

KAI

I stareat the chipped paint on the ceiling and the tiny lizard that lazily makes its way across. I took my shirt off, but the cool breeze from the open window doesn’t help much to sooth the burning nerves and my skin aching with bruises.

It’s a shabby small room with a wicker living room set and a big bed. Red carpet, blue sheets, a yellow lamp, bamboo dress screen, and spiderwebs—a mismatched collection of stuff that’s too old to live. The only thing that tells this room’s purpose is a selection of toys in the drawer by the bed as well as packs of condoms.

I know that, yeah, first-hand.

The smell of grilled food, random music, and the sound of the scooters zooming by trickles through the open window.

I tried to sleep. I think I did for an hour or so, but unease keeps me awake, my stomach churning at the thought of something possibly going bad once I get to Ayana.

---