Chapter 2
Sloane
By the time I’m inside and I’ve hung my coat on the back of the door, I’m almost ready. I’m wearing what I’ve been told to wear: black lace. Eli, the private investigator I hired to find my sister, wasn’t any more specific than that. He’s the one who set this whole thing up.
“Sometimes money just isn’t enough to buy what you’re looking for, sweetheart. Sometimes it takes a little more… persuasion to procure information like this. I tell you what. I’ll share what I know in return for a little favor.”
“What kind of favor?”
“You spread your legs for a paying customer, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.” The disgusting pig had actually smiled. The audacity. “Oh, come now, Ms. Romera. Don’t look at me like that. You want to find your sister, don’t you?”
And in the end, I’d agreed. He was right. I do want to find Lex. I want her home, safe and sound, and I’ll do anything to make that happen. Even if I won’t be able to live with myself afterward.
Aside from the lingerie, Eli told me to bring something else with me today.
Something hidden in the pocket of my jacket.
I take it out and put it on. The mask is black satin, trimmed with bloodred lace edging.
It makes me feel a little more disguised, at least. I hit the bathroom light switch and rummage in my purse for my life raft.
The bottle of Valium rattles when I pull it out.
The thing about being a fifth-year resident at a large hospital is that there’s always someone available to prescribe medication when you need it, no questions asked.
The Valium isn’t even in my name. It’ll never appear on my medical record.
I pop one—just enough to keep me calm. Not enough to make me drowsy—and then I peer into the mirror, fixing the mask’s band underneath my hair.
You look like shit, Sloane.
I tell myself this every time I look into a mirror these days.
Maybe it’s true. Then again, maybe it isn’t.
I’ve been staring at myself in mirrors for so long now that my reflection doesn’t make any sense anymore.
Lex was always the beautiful one. Oh, sure, I know I have a nice body.
Eli said that was the only reason he was willing to do business with me.
Because my tits were real and I had a nice ass.
Your height might make some guys uncomfortable, but hey… not a lot you can do about that.
I focus on the dark rings under my eyes, trying to remember that this is all temporary.
It isn’t forever. I’m a medical student, after all.
The body is just a machine, full of cogs and intricate parts all ticking away, working in harmony to keep you moving.
Intercourse is a function of that machine, nothing more.
You can do this, Sloane. You can do this.
And then, not even two seconds later…
Lex wouldn’t want this. She wouldn’t want you used and abused, selling yourself for so little.
I hate that voice inside my head. It makes it so hard to justify going through with this, but I’m not auctioning off my most valuable possession for drugs or money, or even fame and fortune like some girls do. I am doing it out of love. Love for Lex. Any sister would do the same.
It’s been six months and I’m still no closer to finding Alexis. This really does feel like my last resort. And Eli’s smart. He’s given me just enough information to keep my hope alive, but nowhere near enough to risk my backing out of our little arrangement.
Thud, thud, thud.
“Holy shh—” The door. I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, trapping the curse word behind my teeth. It’s go time.
Mr. Hanson will have collected his key from the chirpy concierge downstairs, but I was told to expect the knock.
Lets me know the guy I’m going to be sleeping with is here and I have to wait in the bathroom until he comes to get me.
I pull the door closed, and for a second, I grapple with a wave of fear.
If I lock myself in here and refuse to come out, how long will he wait until he gets pissed off and leaves?
I can’t do that, though. Eli will never hold up his end of the bargain, and besides, none of this matters. None of it. This is a means to an end.
An electronic beep sounds as a key card is accepted into the door.
The rough catch of the lock sliding back follows.
Then silence. The edge of the sink digs into the back of my legs as I lean against it, frozen, before I remember I shouldn’t do that.
It’ll mark my body, and that’s against the rules.
Even temporary marks like that. My stranger wants me in perfect condition.
Thankfully the drugs begin to kick in as a flat sense of peace washes over me.
A good thing, too, because whoever is out there takes their sweet time in making themselves at home.
Without it, I’d have been on the verge of making a run for it by the time a knuckle raps against the door.
“Come on out. Turn the light off first,” a voice commands.
It’s gruff and full of gravel, maybe the voice of a smoker?
Fucking great. I’m going to have to spend the next two hours with my tongue down a smoker’s throat, and then I’m gonna have to bleach my mouth out.
I turn the light off and open the door, and I’m perplexed by what I see beyond.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing. The room is pitch-black.
“Couldn’t find the light switch?”
“Don’t touch it. Just come here,” the voice tells me.
He sounds young enough, and he’s alone. Not that I was expecting more than one guy, of course.
Eli swore it would only be the one guy. And only this one time.
I step gingerly into the room, wishing I’d paid more attention to where the furniture was positioned before I’d shut myself in the bathroom.
I immediately stub my toe on God only knows what and hiss with pain.
“You okay?” There’s an amused lilt to his voice, which is irritating. Who gets off on a girl breaking her toes?
“Well… I can’t see a thing,” I mutter.
“That’s the point, I’m afraid. Come here.”
If I knew where here was, I’d probably be a little less turned around.
I try again, and this time I manage to stumble to the bed without colliding with anything else.
The mattress dips as I climb onto it, wondering where the hell he is.
I’m not half as scared as I should be. In fact, I feel almost a little giddy.
“Sit in the middle of the bed with your hands behind your back,” he whispers. Is he going to tie me up? That thought should bother me. Would bother me any other time.
“Do you need a name?” Eli said I should ask.
A low rumble, deep and throaty, breaks the silence, and I realize he’s laughing. “Are you offering to tell me your real name?”
“Eli said that’s against the rules.”
“Then, no.” The mattress dips again. He’s moving, coming closer. His hot breath grazes across the skin of my neck when he speaks. “I’m not gonna call you Melody or Candy or some other fake-ass name. We’ll just be strangers for a while. That square with you?”
“Yeah, I—I guess.”
In the darkness, my skin is alive. So are my other senses.
My nose keeps on whispering to me, hints of mint and the ocean.
Whoever he is, this guy smells incredible.
Not a whiff of cigarettes on him at all, which means that voice…
that voice is one hundred percent natural.
I find myself curious about him in the most detached way.
“You done this before? Like this?” he asks me.
“Never.” My breath actually catches in my throat.
I’m so spaced out that I can barely think straight, but the lack of lighting in the room is making my heart race.
This guy could be a serial killer. He could still be a serial killer with the lights on, but at least I’d get the opportunity to see it in his eyes and run for my life.
Mystery Guy exhales, sending another warm breath across my chest. My nipples harden even though I’m not cold. I’ve never experienced that before. Never. Probably because I’ve never been this close to a guy before. “Place your hands in your lap,” he tells me.
I do it, and jump a little when I feel his hand touch my leg.
“Scared?”
“No.”
He laughs, and it’s a cruel and wicked thing. His hand gently trails up my leg until he finds my hand, where his fingers curl around my wrist. “You’re braver than most girls.”
“You do this with a lot of girls?”
“Some.”
Well, at least he’s honest. He lifts up my hand, brings it toward himself, and stubble prickles against the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist.
“You smell like flowers. What perfume do you wear?”
“Afresia,” I tell him.
“It’s clean. Not too heavy. I like it.”
So glad you approve. I feel like giggling.
His nose brushes against my wrist and then the soft touch of his lips follows soon after.
The kiss is barely even there, soft and gentle, but I can read a lot from it.
His lips are full, and he’s gentle with his mouth.
That’s unexpected. I fidget on the bed, wondering where this is going. Where his mouth will be going next.
“Have you ever thought about what it would be like to be blind?” he rumbles.
“Why? Are you blind?”
“No. Answer the question.”
“I suppose so. Sometimes.”
He guides my hand upward and takes it in both of his, uncurling my fingers so that my palm is open.
He does it slowly, running calloused fingers down the length of my own, and I can’t help but shiver.
It’s a simple thing, but the way he does it feels intimate and considered, not just grabbing and touching for the hell of it.
I hold my breath as he guides my hand again, until my fingertips meet his hair, and then down to his face.