Chapter 50
FIFTY
Harry
Pixies is just as I remember it – feminine, with velvet draped on every wall, and disgustingly pink in a way that makes me shiver inwardly. The music bounces off the walls, vibrating in the depths of my bones.
I lower myself into the leather booth, spreading my arms wide across the back of it.
Gigi approaches, the lingerie hugging her in all the right places.
I trace the inside of my cheek, withholding a groan.
It takes every dutiful part of me not to drop my gaze to her cleavage.
Despite the display she’s about to put on, I’m holding onto my last ounce of respect.
I wasn’t going to drug Gigi completely – fuck what Jack asked me. I trust her to play the part, and I’m not having her do anything she wouldn’t do sober. Though she doesn’t have to know that.
The pill keeps her pliable, a soft buzz in her veins that blurs the edges but leaves her sharp enough to be aware of her actions – I made sure of that. It’ll provide the extra confidence she needs, but all her actions will be made of her own free will.
Awareness flickers in her eyes, highlighting the piercing blue contacts she wears. I suck in a breath as she lowers herself down, her knees bracketing my hips, her face only a few cruel inches from mine as she presses herself into my chest.
An arm loops round my neck, her fingers lacing through my hair. I feel the heat of her core against my crotch before she grinds her hips down. Her body stirs something primal in me, her breathy whimper against the shell of my ear making the leather groan under my tight grip.
Gigi shakes slightly, the chemical haze sparking adrenaline in her blood. I draw back to look at her. Her eyes are glazed but focused.
“You okay?”
She nods.
The second she isn’t, this charade ends immediately.
Her gaze holds mine with an intensity that’s far more intimate when she drags her hips deeper.
“I’m sorry for whatever reaction I may have.”
“Are you though?”
I smile against her neck. “Not really.”
Slowly, deliberately, she starts to move, her hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm against my lap. The friction is electric, her lingerie practically nothing against my trousers. I can feel every delicious part of her. The bulge of her clit as she rides my length.
This is fucking dangerous.
I hiss, shifting my hips to loosen the restraint on my rock-hard cock. The line tethered to reality blurs as her ass grinds down, circling with a deliberate tease that draws a low groan from my throat. I cup her ass, squeezing, pulling her close until she’s fully settled against me.
Gigi’s voice is a breathy whimper. “Your heart’s beating really fast.”
“Just playing the part.” A low growl leaves my throat as she rolls her hips in a slow figure eight. “Are you nervous?”
“Not really.” Her lips ghost my jaw. “Not when I have you.”
Well, this is fucking torture.
I fight the urge to flip the table and end this display right here. I slip my hand lower, inwards, brushing her sensitive spot through her underwear, feeling the wet lace.
“H-Harry,” she gasps.
I spot movement by the bar. Hugo – sleazy, black hair, a scar carving the side of his face – has been transformed to slightly presentable in a business suit. His right-hand men flank his sides, Rafael and Daniel, neither too dissimilar in appearance. They could easily pass as twins.
All three of them, each one more repulsive than the last, trace the way the lace rides up Gigi’s ass. “Don’t lose focus,” Jack said, yet I’m minutes away from carving out their eyeballs until there’s nothing left but endless black pools in their sockets.
I tamp down the ferocious jealousy, brushing the short hair off Gigi’s neck while I maintain eye contact with the table. I place a delicate kiss on her shoulder. Her breath hitches, arousal dampening my trousers.
“They’re watching.” My hands roam up her back. “I won’t let them touch you.”
Her hips slow but don’t stop, her eyes meeting mine. She breathes, “I know.”
For a moment, it’s just the world zooming in to her body against mine. I’m immobilised by her stare, and when I blink, two of the men have suddenly materialised on the sofa opposite us, nothing but a low circular table to keep us apart.
“How much?” Hugo asks in a thick Spanish accent.
That jealousy sparks into blinding, white-hot rage. Gigi stiffens on my lap. Her grinding falters as the words sink in, but I guide her with my hands, encouraging her to keep the show going.
I force a laugh, trying to sound casual. Inwardly, I’m still ripping out eyeballs. “She’s not for sale.”
Eyes still lingering on her ass, Hugo raises his brow, while I fight the urge to bark at him.
“I don’t like my property being touched,” I say. “Surely, you can understand that.”
Daniel, the third man, circles me slowly. He dips his head, and I bet he’s trying to figure out if Gigi’s been drugged. The glassiness of her eyes has him giving a stiff, approving nod in my peripheral.
I feel Gigi’s heartbeat against me – or maybe it’s mine, raging in my chest from narrowly passing the first hurdle.
“It doesn’t mean I’m not looking to expand my stock.” The lie rolls off my tongue. “This one has been declared missing for eleven months now. I snatched her up, stumbling round Camden, drunk and alone.”
I grip Gigi’s chin tight, but not enough to hurt, placing a heavy kiss on her lips and sweeping my tongue into her mouth in such a crude display that I see Hugo volley his head back. She jostles, but it’s only a passing beat before she’s kissing me back with a similar intensity.
I can feel the heat building between us, movements calculated to keep their attention. My hands slide up to cup her breasts, squeezing just enough that they notice. Her breathy whimper vibrates my mouth, forcing my cock to throb, making it nearly impossible to focus.
When I pull back, Hugo is leaning forward, his elbows on the table. His expression doesn’t change. “So you’ve been to the warehouses?”
Warehouses? As in, where they’re keeping the girls?
Renewed anger slams through me at the thought of women strung up helplessly in such facilities. I open my mouth to speak, but Gigi leans in subtly.
“It’s a trick.” Her voice is a breathless pant against my ear. “Richard mentioned it on the phone. It’s their way of seeing if you’re too keen. He’s trying to fool you.”
“Funny of you to think you’re able to waste my time.” I chuckle darkly, shaking my head. “If you’re not going to fuel my interest, you can just leave.”
“I’ve heard about you, Harry St. James.” He drawls my name like it’s poison, tapping a finger on the rim of his glass. “What makes you think we can trust you?”
I force a calmness through me.
“Hudson Anderson paid one million pounds for Gigi Thomas seven months ago. It’s the highest bid on record, and I witnessed everything.
” My palms run up her thighs. “The terror in her eyes, the way she broke and collapsed. I know a vulnerable girl when I see one, and Christ, she was fucking helpless.”
Gigi’s fingers feather through my hair, drawing herself that bit closer as her hips move. I feel the chill and the stiffness seeping through my limbs at the memory.
She nuzzles my neck, her voice an airy breath. “I’m okay.”
“I’m looking for young, obedient girls,” I continue. “Money is no issue.”
Daniel lowers himself beside Rafael. His eyes narrow, disbelief keeping him guarded, but I see Hugo’s intrigue creeping through.
Their silence feels like a small victory – an inch closer. I keep my face blank as I say, “I need to know what I’m getting into and who I can trust. Who’s the main man round here?”
The three men snicker, the sound of clinking glasses and thump of the bass intensifying.
“Something funny?” I ask.
Rafael quips, “You a cop or something?”
“No one’s running it, kid.” Hugo crosses his arms tight. “Paolo Ricci and Richard were the organisers before some bird gave Paolo the chop. Richard controls the central location where the girls are being held now. That’s it.”
Fuck.
My stomach twists, but I keep my expression neutral even as rage shimmers beneath the surface. I need details – locations, names of the people bringing the girls to Richard, anything that can lead me to where they’re being held.
“Richard, huh?” I say, letting my hands wander down Gigi’s side, cupping her ass. She arches into my touch, whimpering. “Where’s he keeping them?”
Her hips press harder, grinding down in slow, teasing circles that make me feel a mix of guilt and desire despite how hard I try to stay detached.
Rafael’s thin blond hair clings to his forehead. He leans a tad closer, scepticism lining his brows. “What game are you playing?”
There’s a cruelness behind his eyes. The sadistic fucker that likes to hurt women has the audacity to look at me with disproval. I’m going to kill him, slowly, and bask in his agony.
My attention snaps to Gigi when I feel a subtle shift – a quick, involuntary tensing of her muscles. Her hips stutter, faltering the rhythm.
I pull back to look in her eyes completely. They flicker with a darkness that wasn’t there a moment ago. Her thighs clamp tight round mine as if she’s trying to shrink into me.
And suddenly, she seems completely sober.
“What’s wrong?” I mouth, instinctively palming her waist.
She doesn’t answer right away, her eyes darting towards the bar, where a new figure emerges. I follow her gaze through the crowd.
Jamie Callahan.
He waltzes in, his arm draped over some blonde. How fucking dare he arrive with someone else when he has everything he could ever want at home.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur calmly, but inside, I’m seething.
She’s barely moving now, as if any motion might draw too much attention. I slide my hand up her back, trailing the curve of her spine, feeling the knots of tension under her skin.
I force myself back to the present. Voice clipped, I ask again, “Where are they being held?”
Hugo growls, irritated. “Are you interested or not?”
In the distance, Jamie laughs, the sound carrying through the club. Gigi’s thighs clamp tighter round me in defence.
“Look at me.”
She shifts slightly to pull away, her eyes still averted, but I dig my fingers into her waist, demanding her attention. She presses her lips together grimly, and as she repositions herself on my lap, the flickering neon sign catches her skin in a way I haven’t noticed before.
I turn to Hugo as he speaks, then I whip my head back.
A patch of swollen purple bruising peeks out from the edge of her lingerie, marring the smooth skin.
I freeze.
What. The. Fuck. Is. That?
Gigi tugs at the hem of the lingerie. The movement sends another jolt of fear through me. She’s pretending it’s nothing, but I see the fear and pain ingrained in her features.
Fuck the trafficking ring. Fuck the intel. Fuck this heist.
Fuck everything.
What the fuck is this?
“Gigi …” I mutter, voice barely holding steady. “What …?”
My thumb traces the edge of one of the markings without thinking. I draw it back, rubbing it between my fingertips. Makeup … No.
“There’s a bidding war happening next week.”
I draw my head up momentarily.
“Highest bidder takes the prize. It’ll be no different than before—”
The words are a distant buzz, drowned out by the roar in my ears.
My gaze is still zeroed in on Gigi’s bruises, my confusion deepening with each second. She tries to tug the fabric again. I capture her wrist then release her immediately, frightened to even touch her.
My body starts to vibrate with the lethal rage coursing through it.
I’m about to rip someone’s fucking head off.
“Qué está haciendo?” Daniel mutters, his thick accent seeping through.
“Don’t lose focus.” Jack’s phantom voice stabs through me. “It sacrifices everything.”
Ignoring both the physical and mental voices, I grip Gigi’s chin, turning her back to face me. I see the defiance in her expression, and the momentary fear. My heart near shatters at the sight.
Was it Jamie?
She shakes her head at the unspoken question. Either she’s ashamed or she doesn’t want to drag me into her mess. I want to shake the truth out of her, but I’m caught between wanting to shield her and not knowing how.
Memories barrel into me so quickly I’m forced to blink.
The breakdown in Paris when the coordinates led to nothing. The way she shook so violently, as if the world was ending—
She didn’t scream for Jamie that night. It was at him. She was screaming, frightened, knowing what she was returning home to.
I suck in a sharp breath. She fucking lied to me.
“Harry?” Hugo’s voice comes through again. “Last time, are you fucking interested?”
“No confío en él,” Rafael mutters.
Daniel snaps a response, a tense discussion in their language.
Dazed, I turn to face them but glance at Gigi in my peripheral, seeing the faint yellow of her ribs peeking out from the sides of the lace. A suspicious marking on her chest, hastily covered with makeup.
Did he fucking burn her?
Rage floods through me, drowning out the three men entirely. It builds to a fever pitch, my vision tunnelling, my heart pounding with such ferocity it’s about to burst.
Why the fuck didn’t she tell me?
I would’ve—
And then, like a bad omen emerging from the shadows, Jamie saunters over.
My mind screams for violence as his steps come closer. He’s close enough that I could snap his neck right now; feel his bones crack under my fingers.
The fury is a living thing inside of me, roaring for release, demanding I grab the knife from inside my shirt and slit his throat. The thoughts claw at me, making my vision blur.
Not here, I force myself to think. Not now. Not yet.
I need to hear it from her first. And she’s not about to tell me here, with sleazy men and rapists crawling every disgusting inch of this place.
With Jamie only a few feet away, coming closer, I stand abruptly. Gigi hits the crook in my elbow as it darts out to catch her.
“Outside.”
“Harry—”
“Now.”