7. Shaw #2
“You had me worried there for a minute.” His laugh was ugly and forced. “I thought you might have switched teams on us.”
Part of me wanted to tell Jace to go fuck himself and his bigoted, misogynistic views. The words burned in my throat, begging for release. But my need to protect Trent’s friendship with Jace was too strong.
A quiet knock interrupted the tension before the door opened to reveal three women who entered with graceful, practiced movements. The tallest of them stepped forward with a polite smile. “Have you reached your decision, sirs?”
I caught the attention of the Japanese woman I’d seen on my earlier visits. Recognition flickered in her gaze.
One of the other women addressed Trent as she collected his tablet. “Thank you for finishing your forms, sir. Who would you like me to introduce you to?”
“Is Nurse Laila available?” He sounded far more polite than his previous crude commentary would have suggested.
Jace looked at him in confusion. “I thought you were going with Accountant Annie?”
“I changed my mind. Nurse Laila reminds me of your sister.”
“Oh, you are so dead when we’re done here! Then you’ll need a real nurse, asshole.”
Trent laughed it off as he got up to leave with the woman escorting him to his room.
Another woman stepped forward and smiled at Jace. “Who would you like to meet, sir?”
“Since he didn’t go with Accountant Annie, I think I’ll try her tonight. That way, I can tell Trent about what a great time he missed out on.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but she is currently unavailable. Would you prefer to wait in our lounge for an hour until she’s free or choose someone else?”
“Is Secretary Dominique available?”
“Yes, if you so desire.”
Jace’s lips turned upward in a perverse smirk. “There’s not a man alive who would turn her down, right?”
The woman laughed while Jace followed her out of the room with a wave over his shoulder at me.
Once I was alone with Dante’s attendant, she gave me another cryptic smile. “President Dragon is free to see you, sir.” Her voice was professional, but her eyes held warmth.
“What makes you so certain that he’s the one I’m here to visit tonight?” I regretted my words the instant they were out of my mouth. “Sorry, I guess that was a stupid question.”
“Forgive me for making such an assumption.” She gave a formal bow, although her tone was still light with amusement. “Perhaps you’d prefer someone else this evening?”
“No,” I admitted, the fight draining out of me. “It’s him. It’s always going to be him, isn’t it?”
Her expression softened. “Some clients find themselves drawn to certain workers. It’s not uncommon.”
“Is that what this is? A preference?” I asked, following her to the elevator.
She pressed the button for the top floor. “What else would it be?”
I couldn’t answer because I had no words for what drew me to Dante. It was something beyond physical desire that had transformed into something darker and more dangerous. I had a sickness with no cure but him.
The elevator ascended, carrying me toward a man who consumed my thoughts and drained my bank account. Three visits in three days. My trust fund could handle it, but could I?
I needed a distraction. “Are you allowed to tell me your name?”
“Ishi.”
“That’s such a pretty name.” I wondered if that was her real name or her brothel one, like Dragon. “Does it mean something?”
She smiled at me. “Yes, it can mean both jewel and stone in Japanese. It’s a perfect summation for the two halves of me.”
“That’s beautiful.” Her gentle kindness seemed out of place in a brothel owned by the notorious Gennaro family. It made me curious what her story was that brought her to work for one of the most notorious Italian Mafias.
The elevator doors slid open to the top floor, revealing a hallway of closed doors.
“President Dragon is the third door on the left tonight, sir.”
After thanking her, I walked toward my destiny, each step heavier than the last.
Before I chickened out, I knocked and pushed open the door.
The room was a perfect replica of a classroom, down to the exact arrangement of desks. Dante sat in the back row like usual. He wore a prep school uniform of a navy blazer with a crest, a crisp white shirt, black pants that hugged his thighs, and a tie.
He didn’t glance up from his book, making me stand there like a peasant awaiting acknowledgment from a king. Finally, he marked his page and raised his gaze to mine.
“When I said, ‘See you later,’ I had assumed it would be Monday in class, not tonight.” His voice was laced with cruel amusement. “Three nights in a row? You must be desperate.”
“Would you rather me not be here?” I crossed my arms over my chest, hating how small he made me feel with a single look.
He set his book down, rising from his desk. “No, but I’m not surprised that you’re here. You couldn’t stay away, could you? Not after what happened today.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I held my ground as he closed the distance.
“In here, I own you,” he said.
“You don’t own anything,” I spat, anger flaring hot in my chest. “I’m the one paying, remember?”
His laugh was soft and vicious. “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night? That your money gives you power here?” He circled me. “Money buys you access. It doesn’t buy control.”
“Then what am I paying for?”
“The privilege of my attention and the rare opportunity to surrender to someone who sees the real you hiding under that perfect reputation you’ve built as a nice guy.” He stopped in front of me. “You’re paying for the right to beg me to ruin you.”
I tilted my chin defiantly. “I don’t beg.”
His laugh was dark and knowing. “Not yet. But you will.” He leaned against a desk with casual arrogance. “Tell me, does Jace know who you’re with right now?”
The mention of my friend sent a jolt of panic through me. “Leave him out of this.”
“Why? Because he might find out his best friend likes to get fucked by men?” Dante’s eyes glittered with malice. “Or because he might discover you’re paying to fuck the one man he hates most in the world?”
“I said leave him out of it,” I growled, taking a step forward out of anger.
Dante didn’t move, didn’t even flinch at my advance.
“He almost caught on today, didn’t he? When I had my hand on you in front of the university.
When I was hard against your ass while he stood there clueless.
” His smile widened. “Did you like that? The danger of being discovered? The thrill of keeping our dirty little secret?”
“Fuck you,” I snarled, hands curling into fists.
“That’s the plan, isn’t it?” He pushed off the desk, closing the distance between us again. “That’s why you keep coming back. To fuck me. To use me.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “To pretend for a few hours that you’re someone who matters.”
The words hit me hard. “You don’t know shit about me.”
He reached out, tracing a finger down my cheek in a mockery of tenderness.
“Don’t I? I know you’re torn between wanting to punch me and fuck me right now.
You hate yourself for returning here, but you hate the thought of not coming back even more.
” His finger trailed lower, down my neck to rest at my pulse point.
“Your heart races when I touch you, especially when you’re angry. ”
Without warning, he slammed my back against the wall hard, his forearm pressed against my chest. “It means I’ve been in your head all day,” he murmured, his face inches from mine. “You can’t stop thinking about what I did to you. About what I’ll do to you tonight.”
I struggled against his hold, shoving at his shoulders. “Get off me!”
“Make me.” His free hand slid down my body, cupping me through my jeans with a brutal grip. “Your cock doesn’t lie, even when your mouth does.”
I bucked against him, trying to dislodge him, but the movement only pressed me harder into his hand. He squeezed, the sharp ache blending into the intense friction. “Stop it!”
“Why?” His grip tightened further, drawing a strangled gasp from me. “Because you’re afraid of how good it feels when I hurt you? When I make you take what I give you?”
“Fuck you,” I spat, heat flooding my face as my body betrayed me, hardening under his punishing touch.
His smile was vicious. “No, I’m going to make you fuck me. Hard. The way you’ve been obsessing about since last night.” His palm ground against my growing erection. “But first, I’ll make you beg for it.”
With a surge of strength born from rage and humiliation, I shoved to create space between us. He let me, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at my resistance.
“You think you can make me beg?” I challenged, advancing on him. “You think you have that kind of power over me?”
He didn’t retreat, meeting my advance with absolute calm.
“I know I do. I can feel it in how hard you get when I manhandle you.” His hand shot out, gripping my neck before I could react.
“In how your pulse races when I choke you.” His fingers tightened, not enough to cut off air but enough to make breathing a struggle.
I grabbed his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, but he used the momentum to spin me around, slamming me face-first against the whiteboard.
The marker tray dug into my stomach as his body pinned mine, his hold on my throat shifting to the back of my neck, forcing my cheek against the cold surface.
“Why are you always resisting what we both know you crave?” His free hand snaked around to my front, palming my erection through my jeans. “You want it to hurt, don’t you? You want me to force you past your limits.”
“No,” I gasped, the lie transparent even to my own ears as my hips pressed into his touch.
“Liar.” He bit the junction of my shoulder hard enough to make me cry out. “Your body begs for pain even when your mouth says no.”
His hand worked me through the denim, the friction both too much and not enough. “Tell me to stop,” he challenged, his voice rough with dominance. “Tell me you don’t want my hands on you. My teeth marking you.”