20. Maverick
Maverick
I’m so sick of Con and his goddamn plans. When his plans work, which admittedly is most of the time, it’s fine. But this big idea to get Phoenix out on the yacht so we could get her to talk and loosen up so one of us could finally fucking nail her backfired so unbelievably hard.
Did she loosen up?
Yes, and I got to see more of that fire that I have been obsessed with since I was a teenager. The anger and that bite that swims just beneath the surface, ready to come out. I want to coax it out, because I know that rage is going to make her a fucking wildcat in the sack .
Atticus and Con want her to be their good girl. They want her to obey, and they want to control her—Atticus because he needs to exercise control in every area of his life, and Con because she took that control away from him when she left.
Storm… I think Storm wants her to save him. Or maybe he wants to save her? I’m not sure. He sees parts of himself reflected in her—fear and anger and hurt—and it does something to him to know all of that exists in someone else.
They can have all of that.
I don’t want to control my little firebird. That’s too easy. I want to set that bitch free. I want to watch her burn her entire messed-up world to the ground and then come back to me.
When Atticus caught her snooping in his room, I knew she was up to something.
I really want to know what the fuck it is, but more, I want to help her do whatever it is she’s attempting to do.
She wants to bring all of Titan Wynn down?
Burn it until it’s nothing but a pile of cinder and ash?
I want to be the one who hands her the fucking match.
Why attempt to control something when its beautiful chaos needs to be unleashed ?
I’m not sure if I believe she’s truly working some angle, or if I just need to believe that there’s some secret driving her, something hidden that made her agree to be our little pet. I’m glad she agreed, but the perverse part of me wants it to be more than just the money.
She strolled without hesitation into the lion’s den, and I want to know why.
Most girls would jump at the chance to earn a million, but Phoenix is different.
She gave all that up when she broke up with Con.
It’s not so much money that’s important to her…
it’s security, and that can be gained without jumping through all these hoops and submitting to daily degradation. No… something else is pushing her.
When she snuck out for a few seconds after we got back, I was certain of it.
I press my ear to her door and hear nothing. Complete silence. I know she’s in there, so what the fuck is she doing?
When she came back, I caught a glimpse of what looked like a bottle of rubbing alcohol tucked in her shorts. Why? She can’t be drinking it. Even if she was an alcoholic, she has a full mini bar. And I don’t remember her getting hurt on the boat. I would have noticed.
I sigh and step away from the door. Whatever. It’s a mystery for tomorrow.
I need to sleep off the booze, and in the morning my little firebird and I are going to have some one-on-one time. I am going to get some goddamn answers or get my dick wet, whichever opportunity presents itself first.
The following morning I wake up early, making sure that I’ll be the first to corner Phoenix. The last thing I want is to oversleep and find that Storm has stolen her again, or worse, Atticus is boring her with some lecture on how to hack into the Pentagon or some shit.
When I get up, she is already awake and whispering with someone in the main dining room.
I creep to the doorway, hoping to overhear something fascinating, but it’s only Susan…
Sandra? Whatever her name is—that dingbat maid in desperate need of bl owjob lessons.
I consider interrupting them and sending the little bitch scurrying away, but I hang back and listen. Maybe I can get my answers from her.
“Really? How many is that now?” Phoenix asks.
“Well, most of them are actually just no call-no shows, and we think they just quit. As far as I know, Rachel is the only one that we know of for certain who died,” Sandra says.
“Right, but the other ones who didn’t call or show up for work—were they all women? How old?”
“I mean, most of them, I think? There are a few guys, but for the most part, I would say most of them are all younger girls…maybe mid-twenties or so. And most of them spent their time up here on their last night. I don’t know what happens at these parties, but it must be wild if girls just cannot deal with working here afterwards.
I mean, I’ve been with Maverick like a dozen times?—”
Apparently sucking my cock means being with me now? I roll my eyes.
“—and I’m pretty sure once he’s done sewing his wild oats, I’m the one he’s going to settle down with,” Sandy says. I make a mental note to steer clear of her from here on out.
Clearly she is batshit crazy.
“Right, I’m sure you two will make a lovely couple,” Phoenix says without a single hint of jealousy in her voice.
I hope that’s because she understands Samantha has a few screws loose, and not because she just doesn’t care.
She keeps going, and something in her tone tells me she’s trying to keep Sarah on a certain track.
“But in the last…I don’t know…six months or so.
How many people have we lost? I feel like the turnaround is really high lately and?—”
“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I don’t really pay attention.
The new girls don’t really last very long, anyway.
Being a maid isn’t exactly a glamorous job, even if it comes with a Titan attached.
But I think between maids, hostesses, bartenders…
we’re looking at around thirty or so in the past three months?
Why are we talking about this, anyway? It’s boring as shit. Now, Maverick, on the other hand?—”
I simply cannot listen to her wax on about me being her intended or something any longer, so I step out into the dining area. Phoenix shoots me a wary look while Simone gives me big doe eyes .
“This area is prohibited from non-essential staff,” I say, barely glancing at Skylar. “You need to leave.”
“But baby,” she whines. “I am essential, and I took that lesson that you were talking about and?—”
“Jesus fucking Christ, they actually have blowjob lessons?” I laugh.
No wonder Sandra thinks we’re soulmates—she’s getting coached on how to keep a Titan.
“Look, you are not essential in these suites. You need to leave. You do not belong here, and do not ever call me baby again if you value your life.”
I wince as I speak the words. Probably not the best thing to say, given their topic of conversation.
But seriously…how terribly do I have to disrespect this bitch for her to get the hint?
Being an asshole kind of comes with the territory of being a Titan; it keeps most women from acting like Summer here.
Still, some of them just try their hardest to attach themselves to us, and that ends up with nothing but fucking problems.
She says something else I don’t hear as I continue over to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee.
Phoenix says something to Stella and then walks her out .
A moment later she’s in my face. “Did you have to be such an asshole to her?”
“Yes,” I answer. “The last time I wasn’t a complete asshole to a girl like that, she started stalking me.
Things went missing from my room. Suddenly she was everywhere, and the police had to get involved.
I don’t know exactly what was wrong with her, but last I heard, she was in a mental institution. ”
Phoenix shakes her head in confusion. “Are you kidding me?”
“Not at all. Each of us has had our own dedicated stalkers, women who either focus on us because of mental health issues or because they’re trying to get our money or in Atticus’s case, they’re trying to get to his father.
It’s really messed up, but by being dicks, we can discourage most of them, and most women don’t stick around. ”
I shrug and she just stares at me, not blinking. I take a sip of my coffee. “What is it about Atticus’ father?” she finally asks. “Why do women want him?”
I wasn’t expecting that question, but I guess it’s fair. “Well, he’s rich?— ”
“So are all of you.”
“He’s good-looking for an older guy?—”
“You’re all good-looking. Why would girls want a rich, half-decent looking older man, instead?”
“...and he’s divorced, so he’s perceived as being available and a slightly easier target than us.”
“Oh.” She thinks for a moment, then nods.
“Get dressed.” My gaze travels over her shorts and T-shirt. “You need to be in your uniform in ten minutes. We’re going down to to play blackjack.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“It wasn’t a request.” I head back into my room.
The dress that she chooses is absolutely fucking perfect. I don’t know why I didn’t insist on more red in her wardrobe. The hue suits her, bringing out the flush of her golden skin and the amber flame of her eyes.
As she walks out in a pair of sky-high stilettos, her makeup done to perfection, she looks like she’s ready to take on the entire world. My tongue darts out to lick my bottom lip. Today she’s going to take on me, and I’m going to make sure she fucking loses.
I take her hand in mine, we head directly to the VIP blackjack room. It’s a Saturday and early in the day still, so while there are a few people roaming around, the casino is not too crowded. Perfect.
I sit down, and with only a small flex of my hand, Phoenix, understanding the assignment by now, sits on my lap.
Wrapping an arm around her hips, I rest my hand on her inner thigh, just high enough that I can move my thumb and make sure she didn’t break dress code with underwear.