Chapter 3 #2
My eyes shift around the lap-of-luxury bathroom, all dark marble and chrome.
It’s sleek and about a million times better than anything I have been in lately.
The shower is stocked with shampoos, conditioners, and body wash, the fancy stuff that costs an arm and a leg as well, and I decide a shower isn’t the worst thing in the world.
There is no way out of this room anyway, I might as well make the most of the facilities while I can.
Stripping off the soft cotton shirt Kasen has dressed me in and my panties, I come face to face with the reflection staring back at me.
She is not pretty. He wasn’t wrong when he said I look like death’s daughter.
I’m black and blue all over. One side of my face and down my chest holds the worst of the damage.
No wonder I feel like death warmed up today.
I took a fair beating before Kasen stepped in last night, and yeah, I know he probably saved my life.
Or at least saved me from being dragged back to Breakers Point.
But what, does he want a fucking medal for it?
I wouldn’t have ever been in this situation in the first place if it wasn’t for his family.
I’m not thanking him for getting me out of the latest act in the shit show that is my life.
I flick on the spray and wait for the room to heat up before stepping under.
But once I do, I’m in heaven. The water pressure is perfection, the temperature exactly how I like it.
This is the first proper shower I’ve had in a week.
Since things got out of control with Talon, and the thugs I was in debt to decided to up the interest on my loan, and I couldn’t quite make my rent, landing me on my fuckwit landlord’s shit list, life has hit a new low.
Don’t get me wrong, I got pretty good at sneaking into caravan parks and bathing in the ocean when I could, but it’s not this.
This is next-level luxury, the kind only a lot of money can buy.
The kind of money people die for. People like my mum.
And I know it’s no coincidence that the night she died, the Throne empire took off.
Just one of the reasons I’m here. Answers.
Coconut and something floral fills my nostrils as I squirt some shampoo into my hand.
I moan as I lather up my waist-length hair, massaging my fingers through my scalp, before rinsing it out.
Maybe I have died and gone to heaven. I laugh to myself.
But I know that can’t be true, they wouldn’t have me.
Taking my time, I follow the same routine with the conditioner, using my fingers to comb through the tangles my neglected locks have gathered over the last week.
Then I start on my skin. It’s broken and bruised, my feet black on the soles.
The tiny cuts I seem to have all over sting as the coconut-scented body wash seeps its way into them.
Since my dad and I left this town, our lives have been a constant struggle, but this past week has unleashed a new kind of torment.
One I’m not sure I will ever recover from.
Over the last few years, I did a few things I’m not proud of, shit that would see my mum rolling over in her grave, but what other choice did I have?
I had to pay the bills any way I could. Dax ran that town and had every bar, club, and retail store under his thumb.
Getting more work than the bar job I was doing for him was impossible.
That’s the way he lured unsuspecting girls into the seedy line of work he was profiting from so nicely.
What started out as a small loan to help pay for medical treatments for my dad ended with me owing them everything.
I knew what happened to girls who didn’t pay off their debts.
Working at the club I had seen it more than once, and I wasn’t going to let that be me.
When the threats started, I knew I had no choice but to pay off my debt any way I could.
It had been two years of me struggling to make ends meet, working overtime at the bar when I could, but it wasn’t enough.
It was never going to be enough, because we all knew the Southern Breakers’ real income came from girls who walked in desperate and walked out owned.
They branded them, packaged them, and sold the illusion of choice online, while every dollar we earned was funneled straight back to the men who controlled us.
It wasn’t talked about in words, but you could see the light dim in their eyes.
I did it for as long as I could stand, but the debt never seemed to go down.
So, I fucking ran. Just left all my shit behind, because what use is it to me if I’m dead anyway, and got the hell out of there. I thought I was careful, taking two separate buses and a train, sleeping when I could. But they still found me somehow.
When I’m sure the hot water is about to run out, I step out of the shower, feeling more myself for the first time in so damn long.
I wrap the plush towel around my middle and tuck it under my arms then step back into the room I stayed in.
I wonder what on earth I’m going to wear since apparently all my clothes are being washed.
I flinch in shock when I find Slater leaning into the wall, his phone in hand. Where did he come from? My footing falters, and I slam back into the door. “Fuck,” I cry, fresh pain rocketing its way through me. Damn, I must have a good bruise on my ass as well.
“You alright?” His eyes run down the length of me, lingering way longer than they should, and irritation flickers across his face before disappearing again.
“Yes. What are you doing here?”
He holds up a black paper shopping bag with gold trim, his eyes still assessing my towel-clad body, full of fresh heat that shouldn’t be there. “You grew up.”
I pull the towel closer around my nearly-bubbling-over tits.
What I would have given to have Slater look at me like he wants to eat me alive when I was a teen.
But he used to look at me like his kid sister, more tolerating me than lusting after me like I was him.
But now I can feel the heat from the other side of the room, and I’m not sure how to take it.
So, I throw him a bitchy glare. “No shit, it’s been ten years. ”
“Kasen says your old clothes won’t be dry for a while, so I brought you some new pieces to get you by.
” He takes the items out, keeping them folded neatly, and he places them on the bed in a pile, then he opens a smaller box that must have been in that bag.
My cheeks heat instantly when I realize this one is lingerie. Delicate, silky, and lacy.
I move in closer, picking up a hot pink thong that has me raising a brow. “You selected this stuff for me?” I ask, kind of weirded out, kind of amused to think of my nerdy friend shopping for women’s clothes. He would have gotten a few sidewise glances, I’m sure.
He shrugs. “Rochelle gave me a hand. Chicks’ clothing is not really my sector.”
I stare back at him. It’s hard to believe after all this time it’s really him, and where I get the urge to knee Kasen in the balls, things with me and Slater have always been different.
He’s quieter, smarter, trapped in his head assessing and analyzing what’s going on around him rather than making himself part of it.
But he looked out for me. I used to think we had a special connection, but that was before I worked out that he’d sold his soul to the Thrones and I was actually nothing to him.
“She’s close to your size, they should fit,” he mutters when I haven’t moved.
I can’t help but run my eyes down the length of him.
He’s in a white linen button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms that show just a hint of ink peeking out.
His pants are tailored in a charcoal color and look like the fabric would be soft and smooth if I ran my fingers over them.
His long sandy-blond hair is neatly pulled back into a man bun.
He’s so put together and dare I say it handsome as all hell, giving effortless wealth vibes.
He keeps staring at me like he’s cataloguing every detail, filing each observation away with quiet precision, and I find myself wondering what exactly is going on inside his head.
“You sticking round for a show or do I get some privacy to test out the clothes?” I snip, collecting up a tiny dress that looks like it would fit a twelve-year-old and shuddering.
The price tag is more than I used to pay for a week’s rent.
Sickness fills me. How much am I going to owe them for all of this?
More than I have, that’s for sure. My eyes lock with his, my brow rising in question when he hasn’t moved to leave me alone.
“You can stay if you want, but it will cost you.”
His eyes run back down my legs, an intensity in them that sends butterflies through my body. Because I can feel the sexual tension from here, and it’s dangerously hot.