7. The Back of the Beauty Parlor
Chapter 7
The Back of the Beauty Parlor
The alley behind the beauty parlor reeks of stale beer and desperation. One flickering street lamp casts long, distorted shadows, turning the graffiti-covered brick walls into a scene of a horror movie.
“What the hell is this place?” I mutter, my heart pounding. The door looks like it belongs in a forgotten chapter of the city. A wave of apprehension washes over me, but I’m not turning back.
The car I snagged at the ranch, is parked down the street. I used Katerina's name as a shield. The guard had flinched, knowing better than to cross her. I remember his face when I threatened to let her know he'd denied me. He looked terrified. But I push it aside quickly, I need to focus, to stay on task.
I reach a door, and a nondescript metal thing reads: “Kitty’s Port Bar.”
A young woman with a bored expression and a low-cut shirt, almost revealing a glimpse of her nipples, opens the door. She looks like she’d seen it all and isn’t impressed by much.
“I’m here for a job interview,” I say, trying to sound confident.
I’m terrified.
She nods curtly. Her hand, a gilded cage of bracelets, makes a sound of clinking metal. Her sandy hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail. She ushers me into a long hallway, the air thick with the smell of stale cigarette smoke and something else—something sweet?
We walk down another narrower corridor. A flickering wall of light catches my eye. What is this place? The source of the light remains hidden, but the wall, pulsing, seems to ripple and shift, almost like it’s alive.
The music, muffled at first, slowly grows in volume. A low, throbbing beat that resonates in my bones. I swallow hard, my mind racing. Music? So this is really a bar?
She walks ahead of me, her movements swaying slightly. “What is your name again?”
“Daisy,” I say.
She gestures towards a door, and my gaze flickers toward a security camera mounted on the wall. I automatically turn my face away from it.
“In here,” she says, pointing with a long red fingernail toward a room. The door, nothing but a crimson curtain, reminds me of the beauty parlor upstairs.
“Good luck,” she says, her voice flat, her eyes darting.
The room is sparsely furnished, with a single table and a couple of worn velvet couches. It feels more like a dimly lit living room than a place of business. A sense of unease settles in my gut.
T his isn’t a beauty salon, far from it.
The room is dark, lit only by a single spotlight. The air feels different in here. It is tense and expectant. I step back, my hand instinctively reaching for a weapon that isn’t there. I haven’t brought a gun. The tight outfit I’m wearing wouldn’t let me carry one.
A man in a perfectly tailored suit emerges from the shadows of the room.
“Hello there,” a deep voice calls out.
He steps into the pool of light, his face a mask of light and shadow. A serpent tattoo is coiling down his neck, its tongue poised like a striking viper, which makes me shudder.
I gasp, a breath catching in my throat. A cold prickle runs down my neck, a wave of icy dread washing over me. It’s him. The man from the car, the one who’s been following us.
“My name is Nikolai Romanov ,” he says, his voice a low rumble. He kisses my hand, a gesture that feels—intimate. His thick Russian accent rolls off his tongue like a caress. His piercing dark eyes seem to see right through me, piercing through my defenses, a gaze that makes my skin crawl.
Does he know who I am? There’s no flicker of recognition in his eyes, just a cold, analytical gaze. He’s not here to make small talk.
“And?” he says like he’s repeating something he’s said a thousand times before.
“Sorry?” I say, my eyes widening. Did he say something? Shit, I missed it.
“What is your name?”
“Daisy,” I say, my voice a touch too fast, a touch too overconfident. My heart hammers in my chest.
He’s ruggedly handsome, a dangerous mix of rough edges and raw energy that radiates off him like heat. But his eyes hold a—coldness. They seem to see right through me into the deepest, darkest parts of my soul.
“Sit down,” he commands.
I can do nothing but comply. His presence is overwhelming. He doesn’t take his eyes off me, even for a second. His gaze runs over my body, taking in my tight dress. I feel vulnerable, exposed, utterly misplaced.
Come on, Ava, you have to play the game.
He slides into the seat beside me, and his body is warm.
“Don’t afraid, da ,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing baritone. “I don’t bite. You too beautiful to work in shop up, right ? You don’t need make-up.” He brushes my cheek with his calloused hand.
“So what can you offer me instead?” I ask, my voice trying to hold its own.
“Let’s see if you like down here, da ? Not everyone like—the music,” he says, nodding towards a doorway. “At the end of night, you answer me if you work here in my—club.”
I nod feverishly. This is my chance to see what this place is, what this world is really about.
Nikolai holds my gaze, his dark eyes fixed on mine, a silent command, a promise of a thrilling and terrifying world.
“You do not like it, do not come back, khorosho? ”
“ Da ,” I whisper, my throat dry.
He steps back, letting me walk towards the door. “I’ll teach you the Russian language. Easier.”
“ Da ,” I mutter like a record on repeat, hurrying down the hallway, my pulse rising and my mind racing. I have a lot to learn.
The moment I am alone, I let out a deep breath, my chest constricting. I find a small restroom and splash cold water on my face. “Easy, steady, Ava,” I whisper to myself. “You’ve got this.”
The music pulsates through the hallway, a dark current that pulls me toward the unknown. I take a deep breath and step into a large room or hall at the end of the corridor.
The scene before me is a sensory overload. Flashing lights, a haze of smoke, and a pulsating beat vibrating through the floor beneath my feet meet me. I see women dancing with feral energy, some wearing barely anything, others draped in expensive silky underwear. One woman, her breasts exposed, is being kissed passionately by a man who is sucking on her nipples. She throws her head back, laughing. Her eyes are clouded, her smile is seductive, and she pushes him down between her legs.
What is this place? A sex club? My stomach clenches, I have a feeling it’s so much more than that.
The door suddenly closes behind me, barring me from the safety of the corridor. I glance back over my shoulder. Nikolai is standing behind me, his eyes glinting with a predatory gleam. “You beautiful woman. You make good money here, beautiful. We take only thirty percent–-cut as Americans say.”
I nod, my gaze sweeping the room, taking in the red-lit atmosphere. I notice a dimly lit corridor with doors at the back of the dance floor. It’s a chaotic scene, a blur of bodies, a symphony of movement. So many women and men are dancing, moving close, their bodies entangled. Some are on couches, others on the floor. I shiver, suddenly feeling overdressed and out of place.
My eyes scan the room. I spot the pale girl from the beauty parlor in this swirling vortex of bodies. Nida? Nita was it? She’s the one who sent me the note, a warning to stay away. She doesn’t see me. She’s talking to a tall, broad-shouldered man with sandy hair, an imposing figure who’s easily recognizable. Goosebumps run up my arm. It is Cole Cohan.
I hold my breath, my heart thudding in my chest. This isn’t a coincidence. Cole’s gaze hasn’t landed on me, and I don’t intend for it to. I’m shaking like a leaf; a sudden wave of adrenaline runs through my body.
Nikolai brushes against me, and I feel the rugged outline of a gun pressed against my hip. “Relax. Take your time, Daisy?” he murmurs. “Most of the girls need a little—time. To get used to—the arts, down here.”
I’m not leaving this place, am I?
“Daisy, Daisy,” he repeats, the name lingering on his tongue. He looks me up and down, his gaze stopping on my chest. “Have a look round, see if you like, yes, doll. Every night, you make over thousand of your American dollars.”
“I need the money,” I lie, my voice is trembling.
“Good girl,” he purrs, a smile that’s more like a crack in his face than genuine warmth. He turns, but not to me. His gaze cuts across the room like a laser, sweeping over the dancers clinging to poles, the couples tangled on velvet couches, and the faces painted with lust.
Nikolai Romanov is sizing up the room like a hunter assessing its quarry. He doesn’t even blink as he moves, long strides taking him towards Cole.
My heart is a drum solo. I dive into the crowd, using the multitude of bodies as camouflage. Even as I try to disappear, I can’t take my eyes off the two men. I need to see them to understand what’s going on.
They lock eyes, a silent exchange that feels more potent than words. Nikolai points a finger, the gesture more like a flick of a whip than a simple accusation. Cole shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes gleaming with amusement. It’s like watching a scene from a movie, a scene that’s more real than any I’ve ever seen.
They exchange words, but I can’t hear anything over the nightclub-like music. Then, Nikolai pivots, his face turning hard and sharp, assessing his next move. He doesn’t even look back at me. He strides past a couple tangled in a mess of limbs and lust, his gaze landing on the pair, their moans lost in the thumping music. A cold smile curls his lips.
He’s enjoying the display.
Waitresses in tight leather outfits weave through the crowd, their trays laden with drinks, a selection of—-something else. Is it white powder? I can’t quite make it out. It doesn’t look like anyone’s paying. The guests grab what they want like this place is some sort of exclusive club with a bottomless bar and a free-for-all policy. Membership? Prepaid? Or is this some bizarre, twisted cult?
I look back to Cole, taking in his meeting with Nikolai. They know each other. And this place, this isn’t just a club, it’s a freaking lair. I’ve stumbled into a world I never knew existed, and it feels like a noose tightening around my neck.
I’m starting to realize that my biggest mistake wasn’t walking into this place. It was believing I had any control at all.
The music in this place is a physical force, a pulsating beast that vibrates through my bones, making my skin tingle. I’m caught in the current of the crowd, jostled, pushed, my senses overwhelmed by the flashing lights, the pounding rhythm, and the cloying scent of sweat. It feels like a fever dream that makes my head spin.
I’m sweating, my clothes clinging to my skin, and the room feels like a pressure cooker, its energy suffocating. I need air. Space. A moment to breathe. But the maze of bodies and flashing lights has me disoriented. Damn it.
A sliver of light at the end of the room catches my eye—a hallway, the one I spotted earlier, a possible escape. I hope so. Somewhere along the way, someone has stripped me of my jacket. It lies forgotten on the floor like a discarded piece of my identity. My bare shoulders feel exposed, and I’m acutely aware of how little clothing I’m wearing and how exposed I am in this game.
A girl stumbles into me. Her eyes are vacant like she’s lost in a fantasy world. Her tight black leather outfit, barely containing her overflowing breasts, clings to her body, and she’s wearing long, sleek boots. Her makeup is impeccable despite the cluttered look in her eyes.
She grabs my chin, her fingers surprisingly strong. “Such a pretty doll,” she says, her voice is raspy, like a smoker. Then, she loses her balance, her high stiletto heels betraying her, and crashes to the floor. She tries to get up but stumbles again. A twisted laugh escapes her lips, a sound that curdles my blood like an echo of madness.
Two large men appear from nowhere, grabbing her under the arms and dragging her out of a side door. It’s not a friendly scene, and I draw back, my heart thumping in my ribcage. A few other girls give me hostile looks, their eyes flickering over me like they’re sizing me up.
I move quickly towards the hallway, seeking refuge. Two girls sit on a black leather couch. One, dressed in nothing but a G-string and a laced bra, has her legs sprawled open in a bold display of confidence. The other, in a crimson dress and matching lipstick, has her eyes locked on me and smirks.
“What do we have here?” the one in the laced bra taunts.
“A newcomer?” the other laughs, lighting a cigarette, the intricate tattoos of whips and broken hearts on her chest catching the light.
“Just looking to breathe,” I pant.
“You came to the wrong place for breathing, hun,” says the red lipstick lady, her eyes glittering with amusement.
Their accents, though faint, are unmistakable. Russians.
Suddenly, I feel a warm breath on my neck. A low voice purrs against my ear, “Hello again, Daisy. ”
The way he says my name chills me to the bone.
It’s Nikolai. Our eyes lock, his gaze like a laser beam burning into me. I feel a jolt, a primal reaction to his presence. My eyes drop to his neck. His pulse beats against the serpent tattoo that coils down his skin. He’s all muscle, built like a freaking tank. He’s got silver rings on three fingers, each with a symbol, some strange code I can’t decipher.
“Hi,” I say, pushing my breasts forward, trying to stand my ground. Don’t be weak, Ava, I silently urge myself.
“Nadia, you should take our new friend to the room. Can you show Daisy what we do here, da ?” His voice makes my skin prickle. His hand gently pushes mine, and his touch sends a jolt of adrenaline through my body. His gaze is like a magnet, drawing me in.
And much as I long to escape, to be with Alexander, I’m mesmerized by Nikolai’s intensity, the raw power radiating from him. His hand lingers on my cheek, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. It’s a gesture that feels like a caress.
“My pleasure,” the one in the laced underwear called Nadia purrs. “I have Mr. Cavill in Room Five. The Doctor’s office.”
“Ouch,” Nikolai says, his eyes locking with mine, tilting his head. “I think I should come too, to supervise as they say here.”
The red-dressed lady leans forward. Her voice is low and seductive. “Newcomer lucky, huh? The boss is coming to the room.” She spits on the floor and grinds her cigarette with her stiletto heel.
I don’t feel lucky at all.
Who the hell is Cavill? And why is Nikolai coming with me? I assume from the conversation with Cole that he’s the head of Veles abroad, but I wonder what’s going on here. And why is he in Port Haven? I have a thousand questions ripping through my mind like a tidal wave and no one to save me if I drown.
I feel like I’m falling into a rabbit hole. Nikolai leads the way, and I can’t help but feel that something terrible awaits me.
The room’s all dark, black, and gray walls that suck up the light like a black hole. The music has a low hum; this sensual jazz is like a heartbeat pulsing through the space. There’s a vast plush couch in the middle of all this, and a man sits on it like a king on his velvet throne.
He’s got this raw energy about him, like a wild animal.
He’s about thirty, his hair a sun-bleached mess, and his green eyes hold a lion’s gleam. He’s wearing a tight black shirt that shows off his muscles and dark jeans tucked into crisp white sneakers. His arms are a canvas, covered in tattoos of women in all kinds of provocative poses.
It’s all, too much of everything, and I feel my pulse quicken.
As Nadia enters, her gait shifts, her hips swaying with a confident strut. Her lips part slightly, and she pushes her chest forward as if daring him to look. His gaze follows her every move, hungry and possessive.
Nikolai’s hand rests on my lower back, his breath against my ear as he lets out a low chuckle. “Cavill likes—company—he performs better,” he says, his voice gravelly. He raises a hand in a casual greeting, and Cavill nods, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Welcome to Doctor room,” Nikolai says.
My breath catches in my throat. The Doctor’s room?
Now I see the sterile white leather bench in front of the couch, almost clinical in its simplicity. It does little to soothe the growing unease that’s clenching my gut. A low table sits beside it, its surface gleaming under the dim light. But it’s not the table that sends a jolt through my body. It’s what sits upon it.
Sterile tools are laid out with surgical precision. Except, these aren’t the tools of a Doctor. I see a gleaming, phallic-shaped device, silver and sleek, next to other instruments, each shaped for a different purpose.
A wave of ice crashes over me, one that steals my breath. Had I been with Alexander, this might have been—exciting. But I’m not.
I retreat to the room’s far corner, Nikolai’s hand never leaving my back. My mind screams at me to run, to get the hell out of here. But my body is rooted, frozen by something I can’t quite understand.
“Nadia is—-best girl here,” Nikolai whispers, his voice is a husky murmur. “Look at her.”
His eyes are locked on her as she approaches Cavill, her movements slow and deliberate. She sits on his lap, her legs spreading wide, her fingers playing with the lace of her black knickers, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her core.
“Stand up,” Cavill commands, his voice a low growl. His gaze, laser-like, holds her captive.
She stands, her lips parted in a silent invitation. She moves to the bench; the couch is close enough that Cavill can almost touch her.
“Take them off,” he says, his voice a rasp. “Turn around and bend over.”
I notice the stubble shadowing his jaw and the intricate designs of women etched into his arms. This isn’t his first time. He has a practiced air about him, a confidence that makes the hair on my arms stand up.
Nadia complies and pulls off her G-string. Afterward, her stilettos slip off her feet.
“Leave the bra, but pull it down,” he says, a hint of amusement in his tone. Nadia complies with ease. As she bends over, her pink, fleshy pussy exposed, I see his pants bulge. But he doesn’t move. He inhales sharply as if taking in her scent. “Put on the clamps,” he orders, his eyes never leaving her.
Nadia reaches for the table, her movements fluid and graceful. She picks up two silver clamps.
“On your nipples,” he says, his voice husky and demanding.
Then I notice the remote control on the armrest, a sleek black device with a single button.
Heat blossoms between my legs, an involuntary response to the scene unfolding before me. I wish Alexander was here to share this moment—-this—scene playing out before me.
If he was here, it would all be—different. My cheeks flush pink at the thought of being here with Alexander. I hope Nikolai doesn’t notice.
Nadia clamps her nipples, her breath catching. Cavill presses the button on the remote. A vibration ripples through Nadia’s body, and she lets out a moan, a soft, sensual sound that sends a ripple of sensation through my own body, ending between my legs.
He presses the button again, this time holding it longer. Nadia gasps; pleasure and pain are evident in her eyes.
“Exceptional, isn’t she?” Nikolai chuckles, his breath warm on my neck.
“Now, fuck yourself,” Cavill says, his voice a raw command.
Nadia nods, her eyes locked on his. “Yes, Doctor Cavill, oh yes. I fuck me.” She pushes her long, dark hair back and picks up the silver cock from the Doctor’s table. She stands on the floor, a statue of sculpted beauty, her body tense with anticipation.
I step back, my pulse quickening. The device is massive, almost intimidating.
There’s no way he can ask her to—
“Bend over and do it, then, now!” Cavill commands, his finger pressing down on the button.
I notice the way Nadia’s breasts swell with each push of the button, her moans growing more intense, more painful.
“Spread them,” he growls.
Nadia complies, her legs opening wide, revealing the entire expanse of her body. He stops the vibrations for a moment, and his gaze fixates on her as she slowly inserts the silver cock into her pussy. The sound is a soft slurp, showing how wet she is. She likes it, doesn’t she?
The device is so large it makes her whimper when she inserts it. She moans softly as she pushes it in, the metal filling her completely.
“Now, you fuck yourself—hard, Doctor’s orders,” Cavill grunts; the bulge in his pants is even more prominent now. “You like that, don’t you? Your tight pussy is begging for cock.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Nadia breathes, her Russian accent thick with desire. She begins to move the silver cock, rhythmically in and out of her body. Each thrust seems to send a wave of pleasure through her, her body trembling with the intensity of it. The device, gleaming and sharp, moves with a disturbingly precise rhythm. She moans a low, throaty sound that reverberates through the room. Her breasts are hanging freely, moving in sync with her movements of the silvery device, in and out. In and out. Her nipples are swollen and massive as they press against the white leather bench.
“Faster,” Cavill commands, his breath ragged, his fingers digging into the velvet of the couch.
Nadia slams the device into herself harder and faster. His bulge grows, the veins in his neck standing out as he watches her. His gaze is possessive and controlling.
Nadia moans, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. She is close. I can see it in the way her body spasms, the wetness becoming more intense.
“Oh, yes, fuck yes,” she gasps.
“Oh, I’ll fuck you alright, you dirty girl,” Cavill growls, rising to his feet. “Let’s see if you can take my thick cock.”
“Oh, please, give me, Doctor Cavill,” Nadia begs.
“He’s actually Doctor in real life, above ground, da —amazing is not?” Nikolai whispers in my ear as he watches them hypnotically.
I watch myself transfixed; my body is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions: fear, excitement, and a strange exhilaration. I want Alexander. I want his touch, his hands on my body. Instead, I am trapped here with a powerful Russian mafia boss, watching a sexual power play unfold before me.
Without warning, I let out a small moan, a sound of longing and fear.
“You like, da ?” Nikolai says, his hand stroking my clavicle, his fingers tracing the delicate bones. “You need an exam like this, too, if you want to work here.”
My throat closes up, and my voice chokes. “I—I—”
“You watch, you learn,” he says, caressing my hip gently and moving his body closer to mine.
My eyes are directed forward, locked on Cavill as he gets up and unzips his pants, his giant, stiff cock emerging, the veins pulsing beneath the skin. “Mmm, yes,” Nadia purrs, her eyes wide with anticipation.
“It’s not fast enough, Nadia,” Cavill says, his voice cold. “And you know what happens when you disappoint me.”
She whimpers, feigning regret. “Oh, yes, sorry, Doctor, yes.”
“I punish your delicious pussy,” he growls, picking up the metal flogger from the table. He brings it down on her clit, and whips it against her in three light, but stinging blows. Nadia winces, a small cry escaping her lips.
“I deserve it,” she says, her voice submissive, her eyes pleading.
“Fuck yes, you do,” Cavill snaps. He brings the flogger down on her bare buttock, leaving a long, red mark.
He takes the silver device from her hand. Nadia is still bent over, her body a canvas of pleasure and pain. He begins to move it in and out of her dripping pussy, faster and harder than she had before. He slams it into her, his movements relentless, making her scream with delight.
I look around the room, searching for an escape. Is this place soundproof? It has to be.
Nikolai moves closer, his body pressing against mine, and his breath intensifies on my neck.
Cavill kneels between Nadia’s legs, his tongue now darting out, swirling around her clit, a tantalizing counterpoint to the rhythmic pounding of the device. His tongue moves faster and faster, driving her closer to the edge.
Nadia lets out a groan, a deep, primal sound that echoes through the room. Then, with a final, shuddering orgasm, she comes hard, her muscles twitching and tensing; before she relaxes, her body is spent.
I am both embarrassed and fascinated, my body responding to the scene unfolding before me. My legs feel weak as if they are about to give way. I know I have to get out, but the fear and excitement hold me captive.
“They are not done,” Nikolai says, pointing at the sweaty couple.
Cavill stands behind Nadia, grabbing his giant cock, his hand tracing the lines of her body. His callous hands caress her buttocks, moving towards her little hole.
“Shit, yes,” he moans, and he spits on his fingers and pushes them to her tight hole, ready to soften her up. He inserts a finger in her back entrance, twisting it around in soft motions.
“Mmmhh,” Nadia hums, a smooth sound.
After a while, he enters two fingers, and his movement becomes faster, his finger fucking her behind.
“Fuckin’ tight ass hole here. Come sample, Niko.”
“Not today,” Nikolai’s deep, husky voice rumbles from the corner. I feel his gaze on me, but I don’t dare turn around. “I have company .”
The way he says the word chills me.
Cavill shrugs and pulls out his fingers. Instead, he enters her in one hard thrust with his stiff pulsating cock, his hips grinding against hers, his hand gripping her hip, his other hand working her slit.
“Uhmm, da ,” Nadia moans.
Cavill slaps her across her butt cheek with a flat hand, the impact leaving a red mark. The scene is both exhilarating and horrifying. My body throbs and I feel a strange sense of numbness, as if my senses are overloaded.
Nadia arches against him, meeting his thrusts with her own. His fingers slam into her pussy, working them back and forth, pushing her over the edge once more.
“You fuck-girl,” Cavill says, a smile spreading across his face. It is the first time I have seen him smile, and it is a terrifying sight. It’s like a glimpse of the animal beneath the veneer of control. His hand tighten, his movements gaining a fierce urgency. He leans down, his breath hot against her, “You like this, don’t you? The pain, my punishment.” He presses his lips against her neck, a quick, bruising kiss, “You crave this pain.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Nadia moans, a guttural sound that sends shivers down my spine. Her body is tense, her fingers digging into the white leather as if she is trying to claw her way out of the suffocating pleasure.
He slaps her buttock again, “That’s Doctor Cavill to you,” he commands.
“Sorry, Doctor Cavill,” she pants.
I watch, my breath catching in my throat. The scene is both repulsive and exhilarating. I want to look away, to cover my eyes, but I can’t.
Nikolai’s hand slides down my arm, his touch unexpectedly gentle. “You will learn,” he murmurs. “You learn to crave this, doll.”
I shudder, his words sinking into me like a poisoned dart. I want to scream, to tell him that I never want to learn this, that I want nothing to do with this world. But the words are trapped in my throat, choked by fear and the overwhelming sensation of being entirely out of control.
Cavill sweats as he pounds into Nadia. One hand travels down her belly, gripping her breast hard, playing with her nipple, tearing off the clamp. Nadia groans. “Ouch.”
“You—” He gasps, “fuckin’—deserve it. You fuckin’ like it!”
He tenses, pushing deep into her, all his muscles straining. Nadia takes him, arching against him, her body taut. He lets out a groan as he empties himself inside her; his body is tense, like a coiled spring, before he relaxes, bending over her.
She chuckles, a cold, harsh laugh, and licks her red, pouty lips.
“I do like, Doctor,” she says. With a final, punishing thrust, he shoves a fourth finger into her pussy. She takes it, laughing. “You know I like Cavill. You fuck me good today.”
“Fuck off, Nadia,” Cavill grunts, pulling out.
What now?
My breath is still ragged, a nervous energy pulsing through my veins. It’s like I’m simultaneously wired and exhausted. My mind is racing. Will I have to do this? Go through this “test?” How the hell do I get out of here?
Nadia rises to leave, staring me down. “Keep away from my customers,” she hisses.
I know she’s not joking.
Cavill turns to her, his eyes glowing with darkness. “Next time, I’ll need you to do better than that, Nadia,” he demands. “You’ll need to learn to crave the pain.”
Nadia’s eyes meet his with a mask of submission. She knows her place. She knows she is a tool in his game, a pawn in his twisted world, submitted to the cash flow.
“ Da , Doctor Cavill,” she says and nods.
I can’t take it anymore. My body is screaming at me to escape, to run, to get as far away from this place as I can. I close my eyes, trying to shut out the scene before me. But the sounds, moans, gasps, and grunts continue to echo in my ears.