5. Phoenix
Phoenix
Scrappy is gone when I wake up in the morning, probably off to find his breakfast. My stomach grumbles in sympathy, reminding me I have absolutely no food in this place.
Another morning with no breakfast.
Sighing, I stand and make my way to the bathroom. I need a shower to wash Baldy’s fingerprints off of my body, even if the water is freezing.
It doesn’t matter how many times I scrub. Some things don’t come off. Not when they’re under your skin. Not when they belong to men who see you as nothing more than meat with a price tag .
A cold shower is refreshing. And good for the skin. That’s what I tell myself over and over and over, as I shiver under the spray. The icy spray does, at least, numb the ache in my ribs from the impressive black and purple bruises Pedo-stash left.
At least there aren’t any marks on my face. No marks on my face mean no questions at work, and I don’t need those.
By the time I walk into the resort through the back staff entrance, I’m back to thinking there’s no way I can steal that watch. Stealing from a Titan would be like jumping from the frying pan into the fire.
They would find out, and they would kill me.
Although, the more I think about it, the more I realize that believing they would just kill me is willfully na?ve, and a girl like me can’t afford to be na?ve.
The Titans would want to make an example of me, just like the men who came to my trailer last night want to do. Con has no affection for me anymore. I killed that when I broke up with him. He would rejoice in my downfall .
I look around the resort floor. People walk past, not even seeing me as they pass, dressed in their designer clothes with diamonds practically dripping from their ears and their necks. I’m guessing the watches on their wrists are worth truly ridiculous amounts of money.
Maybe there’s a third option.
Stealing the money is the only way to get as much as I need as quickly as I need it.
I don’t have the experience, knowledge, or desire to rob a bank, and I don’t possess the nerve or the stupidity to rob a Titan, but maybe it doesn’t have to be a single theft?
Maybe today, as I work on cleaning the rooms of these pampered, privileged people, I’ll steal little things—some jewelry, a single earring here, an extra watch there—things they’ll think they dropped somewhere or they didn’t pack for this trip.
If I’m smart, I should be able to steal enough to pay off the mob and start my life somewhere new.
Hope begins to burn, a tiny flame flickering deep in my gut as I look at the resort’s clientele with new eyes. It won’t be as much as I’d get from Con’s watch, but maybe…just maybe…it will be enough.
The first three rooms I clean have nothing of value. I don’t know if it’s because I’m cleaning rooms for people who actually use the safe, or if it’s just luck of the draw.
On the fourth room, I have my first score.
Ironically enough, it’s another watch. This one is a woman’s watch, gold with small diamonds set into the watch face and the name Tiffany’s scrolled at the bottom.
I don’t know shit about watches, but even I know what that Tiffany’s logo signifies.
More money than sense.
I stare at it for several minutes. It’s so beautiful, the gold gleaming in the light, tempting me to take it. Just tuck it in my bra and just continue about my day like nothing is happening. Like I didn’t just become a thief.
Hand shaking, I pick it up from where it rests next to a pile of clothing on top of the dresser. The watch feels hot against my palm, and try as I may to tuck it away, I just can’t make my hand move .
Is this really who I am? How low I’ve sunk?
It’s not stealing if they don’t even notice. Not really. Not when the people staying here think ten thousand dollars is pocket change. This watch—this single watch—might be worth more than my entire life has ever added up to.
My father would have taken it without hesitation. He also would have been fired for stealing within a week of getting the job, assuming he ever showed up in the first place.
But I’m not my father. And although I’ve lived my scant years poor and wanting, I’ve never been a thief. Or a liar. Is this truly who I am now?
I think back to those two men and their sneering faces as Baldy groped my body. I shudder, remembering the greedy squeeze of his hands.
Funny how the memory of them wrote right over the remembrance of the pleasure I received at Con’s hands, replacing it with something vile and dirty.
Yeah, this is who I am now.
My fingers clench around the watch, and I close my eyes briefly. Then, resolved, I move to slide it into my bra. It’s halfway there when the door opens, making me jump, and the watch falls to the floor.
“Hey.” Sarah, another maid, offers me a bright smile. Her eyes flicker to the watch, but she doesn’t comment on it. “The big boss wants to see you.”
“Alice?” I ask, frowning. I just saw my shift manager…like…five minutes ago. Did she somehow know what I was planning? Some of the maids joke about her having eyes in the back of her head, but this is ridiculous.
“No, Mr. Masterson. The big boss.” Her eyes widen in emphasis as she says the word big. “I don’t know why, but he wants you up in his office.”
“Okay, I’ll head up there as soon as I’m done with this room.” I give her a smile that strains the corners of my mouth.
“I wouldn’t keep him waiting if I were you.” She leaves with a shrug of her shoulders.
As soon as the door closes behind her, I bend and pick up the watch, then place it back where I found it. I make the bed with quick, practiced movements and push the cart out into the hallway .
Mr. Masterson. My head spins with worst-case scenarios. This can’t be good. It can’t be a coincidence that he wants to see me the same day I decide to rob his visitors.
When I arrive at his office, a beautiful blonde—his secretary, I presume— with her hair piled on top of her head and a no-nonsense expression guards his inner sanctum.
I begin to stutter out my name, but she settles her index finger on the Bluetooth device in her ear and motions for me to go straight in.
“Ms. Jones?” the man behind the desk glances up and asks as I enter. The room is stunning, all rich dark wood, gleaming glass, and leather, and it suits its owner. Masterson looks to be in his early fifties, with dark hair just going gray at the temples and a relatively unlined face.
“Yes, sir. Am I in trouble?” I twist my hands in front of me.
“No, no, you’re not in trouble. I actually have a proposition for you,” he says, motioning for me to take the seat on the other side of his desk. His gaze travels over me in an almost clinical fashion, sizing me up .
I sit, tucking my crossed ankles beneath the chair. I feel absurdly small and insignificant, unworthy of the large leather chair in front of his massive desk.
“I understand you are familiar with my son and his friends?”
Familiar? My heart races in my chest as my mouth goes bone dry. What did Con tell him?
“I know who they are, sir,” I say carefully.
He nods and steeples his hands in front of him, his gaze once again traveling the length of me from my toes to my hair. He frowns and looks down at his desk, and I get the feeling that he is a little uncomfortable.
“Recently, my son and his friends have gotten into a little bit of trouble. So much so that they have been asked not to return to university for a year. They will be spending that year here, at the resort.”
“Okay…” I say when he pauses. I don’t understand why that concerns me, or how it has led to me sitting in this office.
“While they are here, I need to be sure that they do not get into more trouble than I can handle. I don’t care about the hookers, the women, the drugs…any of that. All of that is incidental. What I care about are the things that are too large to be quietly paid off. Are you following me?”
Not even a little.
“Yes, sir,” I lie. “You want to make sure the boys don’t get into too much trouble while they’re home. But how do I?—”
His lips firm. “Yesterday, I had a conversation with my son in which I informed him that he and his friends will be having a…minder. Someone to, for lack of a better term, babysit them. Conrad was against the idea—adamantly—until he asked if he could choose their minder. He suggested you.”
“Me?” The word emerges as more of a squeak than a question.
My blood turns to slush. Why would Con name me? What game is this? I just survived one predator’s hands on my skin—am I about to walk into the next trap?
“Yes. You.” His look this time is openly assessing. “I’m not entirely sure why, but I’m willing to make the compromise as long as you get the job done. ”
“Job? I…” I know I’m doing nothing more than mimicking him, and he probably thinks I’m witless, but I can’t seem to wrap my head around what he’s telling me.
“Yes, Phoenix, the job. This assignment will take the place of your current one, and to accommodate the…inconvenience, I’m prepared to pay quite a substantial salary difference.
” He rushes on, not giving me a chance to interrupt and ask questions.
“Now, I need to be very clear about this next part. You will sign an NDA. Nothing that you see can ever be told to anyone, including the police. The only person you are to report to is me. Frankly, I don’t need reports on their day-to-day activities unless those activities get too dangerous. ”
He pauses, his expression expectant, and I realize I’m supposed to respond. “I… I need to think about this.”
“Of course. While you’re thinking about it, let me tell you the terms. You are expected to be with the boys twenty-four-seven. You will move into the resort, live with them in their suite, and do pretty much whatever they tell you to do.”
My eyes narrow. “Anything they tell me to? ”
One shoulder lifts in a negligent motion. “Within reason, of course. No permanent harm shall come to your person. Payment will be made at the end of the contract, in the total amount of one point two million dollars.”
I’ve been sold before—or I might as well have been, to these men Dad owes money to—but never so politely. It’s terrifying how calmly he says it—like the idea of handing me over to four men is just business.
My brain calculates swiftly. That’s not just money. That’s escape. That’s paying off the mob, and maybe—just maybe—finding somewhere I don’t have to beg, steal, or bleed just to breathe.
Masterson is still speaking. “I cannot iterate this strongly enough: you are to never call the police or any other authorities. Ever. If there is a problem, you are to call me. If there is something you’re not sure merits reporting, you can call my assistant, and she will determine what is and isn’t worth my time. ”
Pushing down my immediate instinct to leap across the desk and thank him for giving me the answer to every desperate prayer I’ve had the past two days, I school my expression. “Can I ask what, specifically, you’d like me to look out for?”
Mr Masterson’s eyes roll upward to the ceiling for a moment, and then he looks just past my right shoulder. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want to actually look me in the eye.
“I don’t want them mixed up in anything involving cartels, the mafia, or any other type of organized crime. Report anything that involves firearms, theft of items worth over ten million dollars, and bloodshed more significant than a bar brawl.”
My eyes widen as he speaks. I always knew the Titans were wild and maybe a little dangerous, but this is beyond my imaginings. Maybe what I heard in the bathroom the other day had some merit to it, after all.
One point two million dollars. My mouth goes dry. I think it’s worth the trade-off.
As the thought crosses my mind, my stomach growls. Masterson lifts a single eyebrow.
“Not only will the room be covered, but all of your meals and expenses for the duration of the contract, as well,” he adds. The look in his eyes says he has me, and he knows it.
I hate that look. Every time I see it, it’s there because someone knows they have something that they can hold over me. Whether it is my affection for them, a familial bond, my freedom—and now my hunger.
My survival.
Still, though, my pride won’t let me surrender too easily. If I know Con, he’ll be looking for ways to make my life hell for the duration of the assignment. He’s passing me off as a good ‘minder’ candidate, but I’m under no delusions—this is about payback.
The question is how much of my pride and dignity I’m willing to surrender to satisfy his need for revenge.
“I still have to consider it,” I say with a tight smile. “I understand you are offering substantial pay, but it sounds like the job would mean I’m going to earn every penny of it.”
“That is true,” he says, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. “I can give you forty-eight hours. After that, I have to look at other candidates.”
I nod and stand, seeing it for the dismissal it is. I keep my back ramrod straight all the way out of his office, past his assistant, and into the hallway.
I keep my chin up, just like my mama taught me. Never let them see you shake until the door clicks shut.
Only then do I allow myself to collapse against the wall, my legs rubbery beneath me. I take several deep breaths and will my heart rate to slow down.
One point two million.
But, I won’t be paid a cent till the end of the year.
Maybe I can get the mob to agree to a higher, three-hundred-thousand dollar payday if they’re willing to wait a year. And surely, if I am living with the Titans, I would be out of their immediate reach, anyway.
“Hey, girly,” Sarah says, passing me with her maid cart as she works on emptying the garbage cans from the executive floor rooms. She stops in front of me, looks around, and then leans in and whispers .
“So, what was all that about?”
“Nothing,” I tell her with a tight smile.
I may not have signed an NDA yet, but I will not let this deal become gossip all over the resort.
Every single maid in this hotel will try to snatch the job away without a second thought.
If I didn’t know the Titans, if Con hadn’t done those things to me that he did yesterday—and if I hadn’t liked it so damn much—I would be jumping at the opportunity.
“Oh, come on,” she says. “The big boss never pulls any of us into his office. You can tell me what it was; I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”
“Sarah, you know I don’t gossip. If you don’t mind, I’ve got rooms to clean.” I push past her. Her expression curdles like spoiled milk, but I don’t stop. I can’t afford to. I have to get back to work while I try to figure out if I’m willing to give up an entire year of my life.
If I do this, I’ll never be the same again. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the girl I was doesn’t get to exist anymore.