Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Hevan
I’m struggling not to bring my fingers to my mouth to gnaw on my nails for a sense of comfort or reassurance, but somehow, I remain steady and in line as commanded. I’m far too terrified to do anything else.
The degree of exposure to not only the women here but also the workers has me wanting to hurl up the meager contents of my stomach or curl into a ball and wail, but neither of those things will help me in this situation.
The woman from the basement believed the best option to avoid abuse was a Carrera son. The thought is absolutely terrifying. This entire situation seems like a different reality, far outside my comfort zone.
She quickly explained I needed to feign confidence to get through this next part, then if I was lucky enough to be transferred to one of the clubs, I would stand a chance of some semblance of freedom again.
That is my endgame: get back to my normal life and continue on my path at college to become a schoolteacher.
A kindergarten teacher.
I just need to get through this. Do whatever is necessary to survive and return home.
I chant it repeatedly as the handsome man in the black suit assesses us.
I try to remain focused on his mouth, because when I look into his black eyes, my heart skips a beat and my knees become weak, threatening to buckle.
The evil in them sends a chill over me, and something sinister and twisted flickers in that dark glare as we lock gazes. A hint of softness is gone in the blink of an eye.
The man exudes power; he’s well over six feet tall, around six-four, if I’m guessing correctly.
He’s wearing a full black suit, with his top button open, exposing his bronzed skin.
His body is lean, and there’s a black ring on the left pinky finger of his large, tattooed hands.
It shimmers as he takes another sip of the amber liquid in the crystal glass, and my parched lips roll.
Tasting something wet right now would be a luxury.
Then I stare at a discarded tie lying on the floor.
A rough hand grips my chin, and his thick fingers pinch the flesh, but I refuse to show him my pain. He uses his hold on me to lift my head, forcing my gaze on him.
My breath hitches, and the air thickens as his deadly glare narrows, causing my heart to pound profusely.
“Your eyes are meant to be trained ahead, Little Toy,” he rasps, and the deep baritone of his voice turns my insides to Jell-O.
I’ve never been in such proximity to a man who encompasses power and ownership like this one, and while I am completely out of my element and petrified, I refuse to cry in his presence.
I lift my chin higher and fixate on his darkened eyes, with defiance emanating from me.
Big mistake.
Something flares in his eyes, a challenge maybe. Desire?
“Perhaps you need to be punished for refusing simple commands.” The smoothness in his tone tells me there would be no hardship in punishing me, and when the woman with dark hair beside me flinches, I wish I could eradicate every defiant cell in my body and become compliant.
“It’s a good thing I need my cock sucked, otherwise your ass would be raw.” He spins on his heels, and the woman’s shoulders drop as she releases a heavy exhale.
His words play on repeat in my mind. “I need my cock sucked.”
Holy shit, he’s going to destroy me.