Page 20 of The Rich One

“Yeah, I get it, no problem.” He looks around, and to my horror he plucks a pen out of a passing delivery guy’s hand. As he apologizes, he takes my arm and writes a series of numbers across my palm.Hisnumber, I realize. When he’s done, he hands the pen back with a thank you before bringing his blue gaze back to me. “The ball’s in your court… fuck.” He frowns. I’m confused, what’s happening right now? “I don’t know your name.”

It’s my turn to smile, and I do my best to dazzle him. “Well, I guess that’s a conversation for next time.”

Without giving myself a chance to think about it, I rise to my tiptoes and place a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. Then I swiftly turn and walk away like the dramatic bitch I am.

* * *

Waiting for a client to turn up is a pain in the ass, especially when they’re late. It’s only five minutes, but still… I hope he doesn’t think he’s getting a discount or over-running on his scheduled time.

Polly’s phone call earlier was a big ask, taking on a client I haven’t been in contact with myself is something I haven’t done for years. But she was desperate, a few of her girls called in sick, meaning Polly had to find someone on short notice. With no back-ups of her own to fill the spot, I was her best bet.

Three-thousand dollars for an hour’s work was hard to resist. All I know about this guy is that he likes it rough and is into a little rope play. I gave her a hard pass on the tied-up part; I’m not okay with being vulnerable with someone I don’t know. This type of play is usually done with a contract and reserved for clients I trust.

A knock on the door jolts me back to the here and now. With my Dolce & Gabbana black suede ankle strap heels, and lacy black underwear—suspenders included—I steel my spine, plaster on my Rose mask, and open the door.

Showtime.

“Well, hello there. Come on in.” Gesturing inside, I welcome ‘Rex Steele’ into the small apartment. It’s basically just one big bedroom, the giant 4-poster bed taking up most of the space, and a separate small bathroom in the far corner.

He’s actually quite handsome, in a generic way. There’s nothing that really stands out, but he’s easy on the eyes. At least my job will be easier tonight. The whole money exchange thing doesn’t need to happen, Polly dealt with that and will pay me when I see her in a couple of days.

After closing the door, I give my best ‘come fuck me’ eyes as I prowl toward him, running my hands across his chest to help him off with his shirt. As I’m undoing his top button, he grips my wrists in his hands, squeezing a little harder than necessary. This doesn’t feel right, but it’s three-thousand dollars and I don’t want to let Polly down.It’s only for an hour.

Rex’s gaze turns from shy lust to pure ice, like he’s just flipped a switch and turned off all emotions. I get the need to do that, but this isn’t the way I change from River to Rose, this is something different. More sinister. I don’t like it. A niggling feeling starts in my gut, the kind that keeps women like me alive.

“Rex, you’re hurting me. Can you loosen your hold a little please?” The best way to deal with these guys is to avoid angering them, to keep an even tone and let them believe they’re in control. After all, that’s what they need.

A slow grin creeps across his face as he tightens his grip, no doubt leaving bruises at this point. It fucking hurts and need to get control of this situation.

“Rex, let go. You’re hurting me.” I’m struggling to pull out of his hold, finding it hard not to whimper at the increasing pain. It feels like he’s cutting off the circulation to my hands, which is starting to make me panic.

His response is a low chuckle, if you can call it that. And after everything he’s shown me so far, that’s what scares me the most.

The way he’s holding me makes it impossible to use the more subtle self-defense moves I’ve learned. Straight for the jugular it is then, since my legs are still free to move. I’ll give him one last chance before this gets nasty.

“Rex. Please. Let. Me. Go. Now.” Slow and steady. Definitely not panicking as I watch his sinister smile turn into something I wish I could erase from my brain.Why isn’t he talking?

With my panic rising, I focus on everything I learned in Krav Maga before positioning my legs. I asked nicely. He’s been warned.

The freak is just staring at his hold on my wrists, like he’s fascinated with watching my hands turn whiter from lack of blood flow. I’m fucking done playing games now. With as much strength as I can, I lift my knee and hit the fucker straight in the jewels. He immediately releases his grip.

“Ah! You fucking whore!”

Finally, he speaks. Not the most original insult I’ve ever heard.

Not taking a moment to assess the situation, I head straight for the door. I need to get out of here and to some kind of safety.

Quickly.

I’m not fucking stupid. I don’t—for one second—think I can best this guy by myself. This is the last fucking time I do a Polly a favor. Total fucking shit show.

Turning the handle to the front door, I get it partially open, only to be slammed into from behind. Panic begins to swell up from inside me again, my breaths are labored after being winded from the impact. He doesn’t move, caging me in against the door, with my front pressed up to the hard surface.

“Think you’re clever, do you? I’m sick of hearing your shrill little voice.” His putrid breath at my ear sends bile to my throat. I may very well be in trouble right now, but fuck if I let this guy win.

He grabs onto my wig, so close to my scalp that he’s actually got hold of my real hair, and yanks my head backward so I’m bent at an awkward angle. Something that tastes like ass with an awful cotton texture is shoved into my mouth, taking away any chance for me to scream. I want to try and be the strong-ass bitch that I know I am, but I’m really shitting my pants right now. Involuntary tears start forming in my eyes, running down my cheeks in a silent cry.

“Mmm, now this is what I wanted.” From behind me, he licks up my tears from my chin, over my cheek, finishing just below my eye. I want to puke. “That’s it, moan for me.”

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