Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
ELLIE
T his outfit is a joke. I know what this is. I’m dressed as a whore because that is what he expects me to be. He is no different to Mr. Reese, just wearing more expensive packaging. He needs a whore for the night and that is so not going to be me.
It doesn’t help that he is deliciously dark in his black suit wrapped in power. He is a commanding presence that cannot be ignored and the fact I’m not wearing any panties could be an embarrassing moment.
I don’t know why he turns me on so much. I don’t ever get turned on. My sexual partners are an elite bunch of high school jerks and drunken mistakes after partying too hard. I flung my virginity at the first jerk who tried and regretted it ever since.
There is no magic in sex for me. No magic in dating either and there is no magic in this evening because it’s obvious that once again I am being used for a man’s gratification and nothing else.
I’m so angry I want to claw his fucking heart out because I am now realizing I want more. I deserve more and I demand more. Ellie Adams has grown up and faced the fact the world is not a nice place and doesn’t reward anyone who plays by the rules. It’s time to fight for what I want for once and when I work out what that is, I’ll be a lot happier.
As we step onto the sidewalk, I blink in astonishment at the supercar that is waiting for us.
“What’s this?” I’m shocked because I thought we’d take a cab or at least a nondescript car.
“Transport, Gabrielle.” He says dismissively and rests his hand against my back and nudges me toward the passenger seat.
“But…” I’m now uncomfortably aware of the no underwear rule because his men may well get a flash of something they have already studied far too hard already.
He leans in and whispers, “I’ll shield you. Just drop down gracefully and swing your legs inside.”
“Asshole.” I reply through gritted teeth because the bastard obviously knows exactly what will happen and the last thing he’s getting is a private show.
I try so hard to get into the car gracefully, but it becomes a challenge even I can’t rise to. No matter how I twist and turn, the fucking dress rises up and I resort to holding it firmly down at the bottom as I tumble backward into the car. My heels catch on my ankles and my head thumps against the edge of the door, causing me to hiss, “Fuck that hurt.”
Arman just stands there patiently waiting, but I sense the disapproval radiating all around me as I struggle with this one simple act.
If anything, I feel hot and bothered and hate how clumsy I am. This is a disaster and if anything, I really hope he is regretting his decision to involve me in whatever this is.
The fact his men have crowded around the car with their backs to us doesn’t escape me and it dawns on me that there is still a maniac out there who wants to kill me.
The fact I’m doing a good job of that myself is irrelevant and I question Arman’s motives for bringing me out of hiding.
Once I am firmly inside, I buckle myself in and as he joins me, he says nothing at all and just fires up the engine that makes my legs shake.
It roars into life like a sleeping lion woken by a growling stomach, and I am freaking terrified.
“Do you even know how to handle this beast?” I ask nervously and he sighs and says roughly, “I can handle my shit, Gabrielle, have no fear of that.”
As we set off, I notice his men jump into cars in front and behind and we move as a pack.
At first, the silence is oppressive and as usual I try to fill it with useless words.
“So, um, Arman. What do you do for a living, exactly?”
“Business.”
His short reply is as annoying as the man delivering it, and I snap. “Well, obviously, but what fucking business are you in that requires grown men to follow you around, jumping at the click of your fingers?”
To my surprise, he merely chuckles, and that alone causes me to stop and stare.
“You’re laughing. ”
I state the obvious and he shrugs. “I am human, Gabrielle.”
“Are you?”
I shake my head. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t give anything away. You’re a closed book, Arman, and it’s difficult to open.”
“For a reason.”
He sounds bored already and says roughly, “Tonight is business. Conversation is not required.”
“What business?”
“Important business, and I need you to act your part.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
I’m unlikely to help with anything due to the mood he’s in and he growls, “Because it may save your life.”
That shuts me up, and I say fearfully, “What if this assassin is there and finishes me off? It’s a possibility, you know.”
“Hardly likely.”
I can sense him rolling his eyes as he speaks slowly.
“Gabrielle. Listen to what I’m telling you because it’s important.”
“Okay.” I play with the hem of my dress, suddenly nervous about what will happen tonight.
“The party we are attending isn’t typical. It involves powerful men who pay for an escort for the evening because of what’s expected of them.”
“I’m not doing anything shady or indecent.”
I say angrily and he growls, “Play your part and you won’t have to.”
It reassures me a little and I take a deep breath. “So, what am I here for?”
“To be my plus one. My escort for the evening.”
“But I’m not expected to do anything else.”
I cringe as I ask because this is mortifying, and he shifts the gears and sighs. “My father attended these parties four times a year with the same woman for a reason.”
“Why?” now I’m curious and from the tone of his voice, something is upsetting him about that.
“He had a mistress. The woman who accompanied him to these things. At first we thought it was just business, but my brother discovered he was in love with her.”
He sounds so upset I feel sorry for him and I surprise myself when I reach out and place my hand on his leg and say sincerely, “I’m sorry, Arman. That must hurt.”
For a second, he says nothing and then surprises me by placing his hand over mine and squeezing it softly.
“Thank you.”
I turn my hand and clasp our fingers together and whisper, “So, tell me about the party.”
“I am required to form an alliance with the men there. Our business is failing because they have withdrawn their support and my contact believes if they trust me as one of them, they will invest again.”
“I see.”
Now I’m getting the idea. “You scratch my back kind of thing.”
“Yes.”
He squeezes my fingers, and it’s kind of nice. In fact, this is nice. Being alone with him while he opens up a little and so I say with encouragement. “Then what?”
“We mix with them, laugh at their jokes, promise them the world and play the game.”
“That’s all.” I ask innocently, and his voice deepens as he hisses.
“I haven’t told you what the game is.”
The air changes in the car and wraps me in trepidation and he growls, “When the business is concluded, the men like to party with their companions. The house we are going to has many bedrooms and they will be occupied by the people there tonight.”
“Excuse me.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing and he says roughly, “It is expected and if you are asked, you share.”
“Wait what?”
I snatch my hand away and yell, “No way! No fucking way! I’m sorry, Arman, but this is a step too far. I will not, and I repeat not be a part of this, so stop the car and I’ll take the fucking bullet because if you think for one minute I’m letting any of those creeps, and I include you in that, touch me, you are definitely mistaken. Fucking weirdo and for your information, before you have a go at me for swearing, I never pretended to be a lady, so shove your rules and your weird fucking shit right up your tight ass.”