5. Bree
Istepped off the elevator and straight into a world of filthy-rich opulence. The moment I crossed the threshold, the sheer grandeur of the condo overwhelmed my senses.
Glossy white tile stretched out before me, the floor’s polished surface reflecting the glow of recessed lighting above. The walls, painted in a sophisticated and understated shade of grey, exuded an air of refinement and elegance. Both the floors and walls served as a subtle backdrop, allowing the true stars of the space to shine.
And what stars they were.
Floor-to-ceiling windows covered the far side of the living room, commanding attention with their expansive presence. They framed a breathtaking view of the Potomac River, which had been transformed into a river of liquid gold by the mid-morning sun. The glimmering ripples danced and sparkled, casting a spell of enchantment upon the entire living space.
No one greeted me, so I clunked my way over and stood gaping at the beautiful scene below. The sight was nothing short of mesmerizing, as if the river itself had been carefully sculpted to enhance the condo’s already lavish atmosphere.
As I stood there, captivated, a mix of awe and envy swirled within me. This was a place where dreams came to life, where the boundaries of possibility dissolved in the face of grandeur.
This client’s life was a stark contrast to the humble space I called home, a visual, visceral reminder of the chasm that existed between the world of haves and have-nots. Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself why I was there.
I’d left a life of luxury behind, and now I had a job to do.
“Ms. Johnson?” a man’s gruff voice asked, startling me so much I nearly fell over.
My plan for tripping and twisting my ankle might work out after all. The table banged against my hip, and I grimaced.
This was off to a fan-flipping-tastic start.
Tall and commanding, the man had a physique that hinted at hours spent honing his body to peak condition. His jawline was strong with a hint of dark stubble that added ruggedness to his otherwise refined appearance, and black hair framed his handsome face.
The man’s dark-eyed gaze appraised me as if I were a potential threat. I couldn’t tell what he thought of me, but I needed to pass the test.
I swiped strands of hair that had escaped my rushed ponytail out of my face and tried to smile. “Yep, that’s me. Marissa Johnson, at your service, sir.”
He frowned as if finding my answer odd.
I mean, my answer was odd. Who repeated their name like that?
This girl.
“You’re late,” he said.
Stating the obvious was turning into a real trend today. “Yes, well, I’m here now.”
“Follow me.”
Unfortunately, the man made no move to assist me with my things before turning around and walking away. Rich and polite didn’t always go hand in hand. I lugged the giant table down a hallway and into an oversized bedroom.
The room was simply furnished considering the rest of the digs, but ultra-modern. A shiny black comforter covered a king-sized bed, hugged on either side by matching nightstands, and a mirror hung over a long dresser. No knick-knacks decorated any of the surfaces, and, other than the mirror, the walls were bare.
Like the living room, spotless floor-to-ceiling windows took up one entire wall and opened onto a large terrace. It was breathtaking.
What a lucky rich guy.
I wasn’t bitter. I’d been born a princess after all, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss some of the luxuries.
“Set up there.” The man gestured to a place close to the windows. “Mr. Sato will be here in a moment.”
“Oh, I thought you were—” I turned to face him only to find myself talking to an empty room, “—the client.”
Not that I was na?ve enough to think he’d truly left me on my own. I was sure there were hidden cameras all over this place. The owner probably had nightly visitors sign waivers before getting down and dirty between the sheets.
Sighing, I set down my bag of supplies and got to work on the table. As I set up, I found myself glancing out the window every few seconds. The river water was rougher than usual today thanks to last night’s rain, and I longed to feel its power rushing beneath my fingertips.
By the time ocean water flowed through the Chesapeake Bay and into the river, only a hint of salt remained. But that mere hint was like ecstasy to a fish out of water like me. Fresh water showers and our talismans were just enough to keep my sister and me from losing our minds from thirst.
I gripped the amulet dangling from my neck. The gem’s weight against my chest was a constant reminder of the life I’d given up, a world to which I could never return. Not if I wanted to live free and make my own choices. And definitely not if I wanted that same life for Marissa.
When the table was set up, I spread two thin white sheets over top. Why these massage places always used white was beyond my understanding.
Sure it might’ve looked nice and clean, adding to the calm ambiance and all, but oil stains were hard to get out. The sun was a far better way to bleach stains than any detergent, but laying out sheets to catch some rays required more space than we had.
A bird flew by outside, catching my attention. As it dove toward the lapping waves, my gaze drifted to the water once again. I leaned forward, pressing my hands into the massage table to see better.
“You never get used to it.”
I yelped and whirled to face the man who’d spoken. And then my mouth remained hanging open because this man was drop-dead gorgeous. If I thought the first guy was attractive, he was a lit match compared to this inferno of hotness. As in the most good-looking man I’d ever seen in my entire life.
He had to be a few inches over six feet tall and had a body any Subliminal fighter would kill for, or kill to touch. Sculpted yet lean muscles flexed beneath his bare chest as he adjusted his stance.
Naturally tanned skin—a color that would never grace my own sunburn-loving paleness—covered every inch of his exposed body. Which was quite a lot considering he only wore a pair of loose black sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His muscles were chiseled to perfection, each line of his toned, flat stomach and arms visible as if he’d been carved from stone by a master sculptor.
His stomach led to a deliciously indented V slipping below the top of his pants. My gaze must have lingered there a bit too long because he cleared his throat.
I forced my attention up to his face and could do nothing but stare. Black hair kept short on the sides but longer on top swept back from his forehead in a tousled yet fashionable look. I assumed it was fashionable since I didn’t keep up with that sort of thing.
His eyes were absolutely mesmerizing. Irises the color of dark whiskey gazed back with an intensity that sent warmth pooling straight to my core.
He tucked his hands casually into his sweatpants’ pockets and looked toward the water.
Wow. I’d never been stunned speechless by a guy before, but I guess there was a first time for everything.
And I completely forgot what he’d said. “Uh…what?”
Tides, Bree, pay attention. You’ve seen good-looking guys before.
He glanced down at me and drew his eyebrows together. His gaze roved over my face and body, all of which warmed. “The view.”
Oh, right.
I nodded. “I’m sure It’s one of a kind.”
“You’re late.”
Yes, and currents are strong. Just in case I didn’t know that tidbit as an adult able to read a clock, not one but two people in this building had already notified me of my lateness.
Be nice, Bree, I chided myself. Marissa might not get kicked out for missing an appointment any more, but offending a client could come with the same consequence.
“Please accept my apologies, Mr. Sato,” I said demurely, dropping my gaze.
“Only if you call me Dominic.”
Dominic.
The name struck a chord within me as though familiar somehow. I was pretty sure I’d never met anyone named Dominic, but maybe I’d seen his name somewhere. The luxurious digs hinted at the possibility of being someone important enough to be newsworthy.
“You can lie there on your stomach.” I pointed to the massage table and crouched to get the supplies from my sister’s bag. When I had everything in hand, I stood, turned around, and froze.
The handsome client had his naked back to me, about to climb onto the table. While his rounded butt was absolute perfection and worthy of a moment’s appreciation, it was the massive tattoo of a red dragon sprawled across his entire back that stopped me in my tracks.
My heartbeat thumped wildly. I knew that tattoo almost as well as my own face. This wasn’t just some random VIP.
This was the Red Dragon.
Mother of pearl…
Marissa’s client was the Red Dragon? The Red Dragon?
Something clattered to the floor, and Dominic glanced over his shoulder. His gaze took in the dropped bottle at my feet before flicking up to meet my wide-eyed stare.
I recognized those eyes now, though I’d only ever seen them through a mask before today. During the illegal matches, Subliminal fighters wore magical masks to conceal their faces and identities, but many had other noticeable attributes like tattoos that they kept hidden when not in the ring.
But unlike all the other fighters, the Red Dragon never trained at Subliminal between fights. None of the dragons did; their beasts were too recognizable.
Dominic smirked, and I dropped my gaze to the floor, my cheeks growing hot.
Clearly, he had no concerns with me knowing his identity because this client, as in the man standing in front of me, was the most notorious, most lethal fighter ever to grace Subliminal’s ring. He was a man I’d only gotten to watch fight from the shadows years ago, but I’d longed to be a part of that world ever since.
And now, I was about to touch him.
“Er, sorry,” I mumbled and snatched up the dropped bottle.
Thank the tides it was plastic and not glass.
Ugh, when had I become so human?
The bed creaked and the sheets rustled as he got settled, sounds I should have noticed were absent before turning around the first time. Then again, I wasn’t the one studying to become an actual masseuse.
“I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of naked men before in your line of work, no?”
My cheeks grew even hotter, sure to be flaming red by now. While it was most likely true Marissa had seen plenty of naked men doing this job—a thought I didn’t want to pursue further—I didn’t like the unintentional sexual innuendo.
Or maybe it was intended. The Red Dragon was well known for his conquests inside the ring and out, scenarios I’d often dreamed of being included in once upon a time. Until I’d realized he was nothing more than an egotistical, fin-licking barnacle who wouldn’t give an adoring fan the time of day.
Whatever his intention, I chose to consider the question rhetorical. After taking a deep breath, I felt brave enough to lift my gaze again. He was on the bed face down, the top sheet draped over his bottom half.
I rolled my shoulders back, determined to get this over with and back to my real job. Unlike the sixteen-year-old version of myself who’d first laid eyes on Dominic Sato, I knew better than to ogle after playboys like him.
Besides, those toilets wouldn’t clean themselves.