20. Hailee
Chapter twenty
Hailee
H ot water rains down on me. Pressing my back against the cool tiles, the tension in my muscles begin to melt away. With a gentle roll of my head, I stretch out the knots in my neck, exhaling a sigh of relief. It’s good to be back at Eden, though I’ve been reminded just how hectic it can be. My muscles certainly didn’t forget.
Just as I start to sink into a moment of peace, the bedroom phone trills, piercing the silence and jarring me back to reality.
I quickly wrap a towel around my head and another around my body, dashing out of the bathroom to answer it before it falls silent. With wet feet, I almost lose my balance as I turn the corner but manage to catch myself just in time. The last thing I need is to earn another punishment.
“Hello,” I answer breathlessly.
“Hailee dear, it’s Kevin,” comes the familiar and soothing voice on the other end.
“Hey Kev, what’s up?”
“I have a gentleman here, Jacob Barlowe.” A vague memory of Jacob at the charity ball my stepfather dragged me to floods back. An easy smile and perfect white teeth.
“Dameon’s not here, unfortunately.”
“He’s inquiring after you, ma’am.”
“Kev, how many times do I have to remind you to call me Hailee?” I tease, though my mock anger is met with a chuckle. We’ve done this dance many times. “Send him up.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.
I drag the towel from my head, letting my long hair fall down my back before gathering it up into a messy bun and securing it with a claw clip. I quickly dry off my body, hanging both wet towels in the bathroom just as the elevator dings. I slip into a floor-length linen dress, its light fabric flowing effortlessly around me, and head downstairs to the foyer. As the elevator doors open, I’m greeted by the sight of Jacob with a charming smile on his face.
“Hey, nice to see you again.” I smile brightly.
“Hope you don’t mind me dropping by. I was in the area.” He casually gestures down his body. He’s wearing board shorts and a tank top, his impressive toned and tanned arms on display. He runs a hand through his wet hair, and his flip-flops are covered in sand.
“How’s the swell?” I welcome him inside.
“Amazing. Do you surf?”
“No, but I’d like to learn one day. Come in,” I reply as I lead the way into the living room. “Would you like some iced tea? I was making some anyway.”
“Yeah, that would be great, thank you.” He runs a hand through his wet hair again.
Leaving Jacob to settle on one of the couches facing the ocean, I make my way into the kitchen and grab the pitcher from the fridge. I fill two glasses with iced tea, the clinking sound of ice cubes against the glass echoing the nagging feeling in my gut. With each pour, I take deep breaths, centering myself before returning to face Jacob. What is he doing here? He barely knows me.
“Sorry, Dameon isn’t here at the moment, but he should be back in an hour or so if you want to wait?” I say as I offer him a glass of iced tea. Our fingers brush lightly, and that nagging feeling in my gut ramps up a notch. I’m suddenly all too aware of my nakedness beneath my thin linen dress. With a forced smile plastered on my lips, I turn toward the opposite couch, but before I can retreat, Jacob’s hand darts out, gripping my wrist.
“I’m actually here to talk to you, Hailee. Please, sit with me.” He nods toward the spot beside him on the couch. I search his eyes for any hint of malice, but they remain frustratingly blank. His hold on my wrist remains light, and I could easily shrug him off, so I ignore my instincts and reluctantly sink down beside him. His lips curl into an unsettling smile.
“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” I ask, taking a sip of my iced tea to break free from his hold.
“Are you happy? With Dameon?”
“Yes…” I respond slowly. “What’s going on, Jacob?”
“Because I can offer you a better deal. Whatever he’s offering you, I’ll double it.” His words drip with confidence.
“Oh, um, that’s very generous of you, but I’m not interested.” I rub the back of my neck and fiddle with the claw clip in my hair.
“Why not? You’re a hooker, the highest bidder always wins.” He shrugs with arrogant certainty.
Okay, time for this asshole to leave… now.
“Listen, Jacob, I think—”
“I lost a bet because of you.” His voice drops with resentment, and his sudden change in demeanor makes my heart pick up pace.
“What are you talking about?”
“I lost my penthouse in Paris. Because he cheated.” He leans forward and puts his iced tea on the coffee table with a loud clank.
“I don’t understand.”
“And here’s the thing, Hailee, I don’t lose. Ever.” The intent is clear in his eyes, and my gut screams at me to move, to run. I swiftly rise from the couch, but before I can make a move, his hand shoots out and grips my wrist, tighter this time. The glass slips from my hand, shattering as it crashes to the floor, iced tea splashing over our legs. In one swift move, he yanks me down onto the couch, his body looming over mine as he uses his weight to pin me underneath him. Shock and fear render me momentarily speechless. It takes a second to gather my wits, then a surge of adrenaline floods my veins.
“Get the fuck off me,” I snarl, my voice trembling with anger as I push hard against his chest.
“You owe me. One fuck doesn’t even come close to making up for my penthouse, but you’re sure as hell gonna try.” He secures my wrists above my head, pinning them together in an iron grip with one hand. His other hand grasps my jaw, his fingers digging into my skin. Panic surges through me but I can also feel a fierce determination igniting deep down, driving me to fight against him with every ounce of strength I possess.
“Time to pay up,” he spits out. His eyes are narrowed into dangerous slits, like a coiled snake, deadly and ready to strike. An anger that I didn’t know I possessed surges within me like a raging inferno, blazing beneath the surface, ready to explode. I buck and arch my back in a desperate attempt to free myself from his hold.
“Why are you fighting this? Take it like the whore you are.” He seems perplexed by my resistance, which only fuels the flames of my fury. The audacity of his insults, the sheer contempt in his tone, it’s almost too much to bear. My vision blurs with rage.
He gropes my breast before shifting his weight to free his cock from his shorts. I see my opening, and I take it. In a quick and calculated motion, I lift my knee with all the force I can muster, aiming squarely for his balls. The impact is immediate and gratifying.
His grip on me falters as pain contorts his features, his howls of agony echoing off the walls. “You fucking bitch!” he roars. I waste no time seizing the opportunity to push him off, sending him crashing to the floor amid the shards of broken glass.
I leap off the couch and make a desperate dash for the phone in the foyer. But before I can reach it, he lunges forward, grabbing me by the ankle and yanking me down with a vicious force. A sharp pain shoots through my thigh, but I don’t dare look down. Instead, I focus all my energy on breaking free from his tight grip with wild kicks. I manage to connect a blow to his face and feel his nose crunch beneath my foot.
Good, I hope I broke it.
“Ahhh!” Jacob’s screams pierce the air as he releases my ankle, clutching at his injured nose in agony.
“Get the fuck away from her!”
The dark timbre of Dameon’s voice roars over Jacob’s cries, and the room goes deadly still. I lift my head from the floor to see Dameon towering over us, like one scary motherfucker, his presence radiating pure menace. It’s a side of him I’ve never seen before, and one I hope to never witness again. Dameon bends down, his hand wrapping around Jacob’s throat like a vise. Despite Jacob’s feeble attempts to stop the blood flowing from his nose, the sight of Dameon’s murderous glare is enough to make his hands rise in a futile gesture of surrender. Before Jacob can utter a single word, Dameon’s fist crashes into his face, a single punch landing with a sickening crunch. The sound of Jacob’s screams mingles with the nauseating sound of bones breaking. When Dameon releases his grip on Jacob’s throat, he collapses to the ground in a bloody and unconscious heap. His face is covered in blood, a swollen bruise already forming where the punch landed. Pushing through the pain in my thigh, I force myself to my feet.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demand, rounding on him. Dameon looks up from Jacob’s unmoving body, his brow furrowing.
“What?”
“I had it under control!” I seethe, frustration flowing through me as I gesture toward Jacob’s motionless form.
“Are you kidding me? I just saved you from being raped. It didn’t look like you had it under control when I walked in!”
“I did! And I don’t need to be saved by you or by any man! This isn’t a movie; this isn’t Pretty Woman . I can save my myself!” I shout, grasping my chest.
“Fuck’s sake, Hailee, this is not the time to get on your feminist high horse.” His words cut through the air like a knife, making me see red.
“What the fuck did you say to me?” I narrow my eyes. “Men like this asshole feel they have a right to my body anytime they want because of my profession. And I’m sick of it!”
“Don’t lump me in the same group as this prick. You know damn well I’m not like him. And I know you can look after yourself. But let me make this clear: I will not stand back and watch while someone, whether they are male, female, old or young, is violently assaulted. And especially not someone I care about. In. My. Own. Fucking. Home!” Dameon bellows, his voice thundering through the room.
We fall silent, the tension between us crackling as our labored breathing fills the room. His admission lingers between us, deflating my anger like a balloon.
He cares about me?
Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply. When I reopen them, Dameon is scanning my body with concern.
“You’re hurt,” he observes, his voice gentle.
I follow his gaze and take stock of the damage. A large piece of glass protrudes from my thigh, blood seeping through and staining my dress. Now that the adrenaline and shock are wearing off, the pain intensifies, throbbing relentlessly. I assess myself further, noticing other scratches and cuts on my arms, yet more evidence of the struggle. It seems I fell on more glass than I initially thought.
“Can I take you to the hospital? Or would you like to drive yourself? I’m happy to sit in the passenger seat while you bleed out behind the wheel.” Dameon’s attempt at sarcasm makes my lips twitch.
Funny, asshole.
“Fine, let’s go,” I huff, my anger seeping out as a wave of exhaustion settles in.
***
We wait in the small cubicle at St. Vincent’s Hospital for the doctor to remove the glass and stitch up my leg. Dameon paces back and forth, his focus split between my thigh and the conversation he’s having on his phone.
“Thank you, Kevin. I’ll call you back,” he says, ending the call and slipping his phone into his pocket. He settles onto the seat next to my bed.
“Kevin’s babysitting Jacob while he waits for the police to arrive. He’s still unconscious. They will likely take him to hospital and arrest him there, but they will want to interview you. It’s up to you whether you want to press charges.”
I sigh. What’s the point in pressing charges? He’s powerful and wealthy and will get away with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. I have little faith that he’ll face any real consequences for his actions. “What do you think I should do?”
He takes my hand in his, his thumb tracing comforting circles on my skin. “This is your decision, and yours alone. I’ll support you no matter what you choose.” His words are reassuring, but I can see the frustration in his eyes as he speaks. “Yes, I want to see him charged. He attacked you,” he growls, anger flashing in his gaze. “But I don’t think the charges will stick. He’ll lawyer up, use your background against you. I’m sorry, gorgeous.” His expression softens, a mixture of remorse and sympathy shadowing his features. He would know better than anyone. Men like Jacob can get away with literal murder. An attack on a sex worker in a private home will be easy to squash. I sigh heavily again.
“There is another option though…” he trails off, watching me intently.
“What option?”
“Let’s just say, I’m acquainted with certain individuals who like to dole out their own brand of justice.”
“Really?” His suggestion catches me off guard. The notion of vigilante justice seems like something out of a movie, not a real-life possibility. Yet, there’s a flicker of temptation within me, a desire to see Jacob face the consequences of his actions, even if they’re outside the bounds of conventional law. However, deep down, I know that mere retribution won’t change the essence of who Jacob is.
“Would it make you feel better, if karma got him?” I ask.
“Hell yeah, it would.”
“Then it’s settled,” I conclude with a shrug. Dameon nods in agreement. “Speaking of, what was the bet about?”
“What bet?”
“The one you made with Jacob.”
“Fuck. Is that why he attacked you?”
“Yeah, he said something about you cheating?”
“I’m gonna murder that fucker.” Dameon’s voice drips with anger.
The curtain draws back and our conversation is interrupted by the arrival of one fine-looking doctor. Dressed in perfectly tailored green scrubs, his muscular physique is evident as he surveys the paperwork on his clipboard.
“Hailee Mann, I presume.” His voice is smooth and confident. Though he looks familiar, I can’t quite place where I’ve seen him before.
“Hey, Zac.” Dameon extends his hand for a shake. “Thanks for seeing us straight away.”
“No problem at all.” He returns the handshake. “Hailee, how are you feeling this evening?”
“Been better, to be honest,” I reply, still trying to figure out why he’s so familiar.
“On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in at the moment?”
“About a six.” Then it clicks; he’s from Eden. The guy Chloe was playing with.
“Well, let’s get you stitched up, and we’ll give you some painkillers so you can be on your way,” Zac says with a reassuring smile.
“Sounds good, thank you, Doctor.”
Dameon remains by my side, holding my hand throughout the procedure. The sting of the local anesthetic was worse than the actual removal of the glass. His attentive presence provides a sense of comfort, and he diligently absorbs the doctor’s instructions for aftercare and pain management. By the time I’m stitched up and ready to leave, the adrenaline has completely drained from my system, leaving me shaky and vulnerable. I can’t believe I was attacked and almost raped. It’s always a risk in my profession, a shadow that lurks in the back of my mind, but I never thought it would happen to me—especially not in the safety of Dameon’s penthouse. The shock ripples through me, each wave bringing a fresh surge of disbelief and fear. But once the painkillers kick in, fatigue settles heavily into my bones.
Drowsy, I limp out of the cubicle. Dameon watches me intently, concern evident in his eyes. I can sense he’s holding back, giving me the space to be in control. It’s a gesture that tugs at my heartstrings, knowing he wants to take care of me in every possible way.
Relenting, I ask, “Can you help, please?”
“Thank fuck,” he breathes out, his eyes shooting to the sky. With a gentle strength, he lifts me into his arms, holding me closely as he carries me to the car. I snuggle against his chest, finding solace in his embrace. The next thing I know, I’m lying in our bed, naked, while Dameon tenderly washes me with a warm washcloth.
“Go back to sleep, gorgeous. I’ve got you,” he whispers, brushing a gentle kiss against my forehead.
That sounds like a mighty fine idea, so I let my heavy eyelids drop, surrendering to the tranquility of sleep.