Selling Out (7 page)

She was pliant, more like a seven-year-old than a
seventeen-year-old. I towed her upstairs to one of the guest rooms with a light
on and tucked her in between the satin sheets.

Adrian waited for me outside, like a stubby guard dog. “Your
room’s next door.”

“I’m going to talk to him.” I studied his stony expression,
then said, “I’m not going to hurt him.”

“You weren’t supposed to hurt him last time.”

“I’m sorry about that. I want to make it up to him. Please?”

He wavered. “No.”

“Keeping me away won’t make him gay,” I said softly.

His laugh was a caustic sound, grating the air.

“Go, then. Who am I to stop you?”

He stepped back with his hand outstretched in a parody of
the obedient servant. I had no doubt he would monitor me through the hallways,
but some rooms would be blind.

Philip was in his bedroom, a place I knew well. I knocked
and entered but hovered just inside the door.

He tugged at his tie. “Go away.”

“Okay,” I said but remained there.

He kicked off his shoes, threw his jacket on the bed.
“Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it the morning.”

“All right,” I said, padding across the room and curling
into the chair beside the bed. So many nights we had sat like this, exhausted
from parading around some god-awful black-tie event. It was all so familiar my
throat hurt.

Once, I had been his live-in prostitute, his mistress, his
well-compensated girlfriend—whatever he wanted me to be. Just a job, and a
high-paying one. At least that was what the contract stipulated. Until he’d
begun to develop feelings for me, unwanted, unprecedented, and I’d started to
care for him too, as a friend anyway. But the wheel was already in motion. As
an informant, I had been feeding Luke information about Philip’s criminal
activities. The truth has a way of coming out and biting you in the ass—or
shooting me in the shoulder, in my case.

When he was bared down to his formfitting boxers, I went to
him. He was trim, as always. I caressed his sleek muscles, but though I could
admire his form, I didn’t feel the same visceral pull from it that I did for
Luke’s. Philip was a starry night, beautiful and mysterious. Luke was like the
sun, so bright he blinded me, but I couldn’t stop looking up.

“You seem tired,” Philip said.

My hands paused in their exploration just a beat before
continuing. The light skim of my fingertips alternated with a firm touch,
perfectly measured to arouse. It worked, always.

“Is this payment?” he asked. “A businessman would insist on
knowing the terms of the deal.”

Funny, I didn’t realize I had any leverage with which to
barter. “You can always refuse.”

“Can I? I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

He pulled me to the bed, turned me over, and ran his hands
along me, checking that I was all there, his breath scalding on my neck.

“Why did you come here, Shelly? Do you want to get fucked?
All hot and bothered, but he won’t hold you down and give it to you like I
will?”

His body was flush against mine, weighing me down, all
hardness and heat. Anger and pain.

“Or did you want me to hurt you? Am I your punishment?”

“No.” I shouldn’t encourage this—it wasn’t true—but I had to
know. “For what?”

“For not being good enough for him.”

He paused, crowding closer, the ridge of his cock pressed
against the cleft of my ass.

“You know that, don’t you?”

A sharp pain stunned me as his hand met the flat of my ass,
and I released the shock in a gasp.

“You think I mind that you’re all wet for that cop? This is
just business, you and I. I’ll help you, and you’ll help me right back. I don’t
care if you want it.” He pushed against me, the length of his cock against the
flesh of my ass, and grunted.

“Does he know to touch you like this?”

His fingers found my sex, playing me with the strokes he
knew so well, and all I could see beneath my closed eyes was Luke touching
me—knowing me this well.

“Does he hurt you like this?” With his other hand, Philip
grasped my hair and pulled. “Does he?”

“No, no.” Luke didn’t touch me, wouldn’t hurt me. Even if we
were together, he would never know my dark side. But I would hide it; for him I
could. “He doesn’t want me.”

Philip froze, the bar of his cock still hot against my skin,
the ragged heat of his breath against my shoulder. The murmur of my name
sounded like good-bye. He lifted off me, and air cooled my flushed skin. I remained
bent over, but he pulled me upright. He hadn’t fucked me. He wasn’t going to.
His hands tightened on my arms when he saw my face.

“Damn,” he said. “Damn. I didn’t mean for it to be like
that.”

“I want it to be real
between us.”

I swiped at my cheeks. “It’s okay.”

Philip sat down heavily in the armchair and let his head
fall back. “Tell me, then. What was so horrible that it sent you running to the
likes of me at three in the morning?”

I slanted him a look as I fiddled with the jagged hem of my
dress, the cheap fabric torn somewhere during our fight or flight. For maybe
the first time in so many years, I mumbled at the floor. “It’s possible I’m the
lead suspect in a multiple homicide.”

He stared at me for a moment and then burst into a laugh.
“Bet your cop shit a brick.”

Sure, right before he promised to turn me in. “Do you have
to find this amusing?”

“Tell me you did it, that you murdered some bastard.” He was
grinning. “Fuck, you didn’t. Oh, that would have made my night.”

“You really are perverted.”

“I know.” He sobered. “They would have deserved it, if you’d
done it. But okay, to business. Who knows you’re here—anyone?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think we were followed. If we
were, there would have been cops knocking on the door by now.”

“Sweetheart, cops know better than to knock on my door.”

A smile tugged at my lips. Was that what I sounded like?
“You’re an ass.”

“Go.”

He pulled me to standing and pushed me gently toward the
door.

“Get some sleep. We’ll figure it out in the morning. And if we
don’t, you can just live here forever.”

There was a note in his voice that said he wouldn’t mind
that outcome too much; I shivered. As I shut the door, he was still chuckling
to himself. “My little murderer,” I heard him say.

I slipped through the hallways, the shadows both foreign and
familiar, but I turned away from the cold guest room I’d been assigned. Metal
stairs shook under my weight as I climbed up to the observatory. Philip’s
mansion was like a life-size dollhouse, made for play, not living. But there
were a few perks, and the stargazing nook at the top of the tower ranked high
among them.

I nestled among the pillows there, hoping that whatever
girls Philip had brought in to replace me hadn’t found this spot. The thought
of another person’s left-behind hair and skin and fluids on the pillows, of
touching those things, was enough to mar the experience—almost. At least until
I let out a breath and looked up at the sky.

At first I had thought it was stupid to build an observatory
in the heart of Chicago, where only a few stars ever pierced the blanket of
smog and bright city lights. But one night, after leaving Philip’s bed, I had
slunk up here like a dog hiding away to lick her wounds.

The small windowed room gave me space to fall apart. The
endless black expanse above let me do it in privacy.

I still smarted where Philip’s hands had smacked me, where
his cock had branded me. Small acts, almost innocent compared to what I had
done in the past, but it felt all new to me now. All dirty and so wrong, when
it was with anyone but Luke.

And Luke. Oh, Luke. I had called Philip perverted, which was
accurate enough, considering. But here I had access to a face chiseled from
marble, and I wanted the one studded with stubble. Here I lay swathed in silks,
wishing they were coarse blue cotton sheets instead.

Why did he have to turn on me so quickly, after what I had
done for him? I supposed that showing up so late, frantic and with a black eye,
it was conceivable that I had just committed murder.

Although, after the messages he’d left me, I believed he
didn’t mean for us to be hurt. A small comfort, when he might have gotten us
killed. He trusted the system too much. He thought his precious fucking
colleagues would exonerate me if I was innocent.

Maybe that was the problem. I didn’t just want him to
believe in me. I wanted him to think the worst and protect me anyway.

* * * *

A quiet drizzle pattered the windows above me in a gentle
morning song. I wandered back to the guest rooms. Ella’s room was empty. I
checked my assigned room in case she’d come to wait there. Empty as well, but
there was a tray with still-warm coffee sitting beside the bed on a side table.

The closet door lay open, revealing a few of my clothes.
Damn, and my favorite pair of jeans. Philip must have held them back when he
sent the rest of my stuff. Figured, the sadist.

I checked my clutch, which was now minus my phone. Since the
cash was intact, that meant Ella hadn’t found my stash. So who had taken my
phone? Maybe Philip. More likely it was Adrian, acting on his orders. It could
have felt violating, to have so little left and then have it taken. But a sense
of melancholy still muted my emotions, and I embraced it.

Get dressed. Wash up.

I went through the motions, almost able to pretend I was
still Philip’s mistress, that I’d never left this unexpected haven. That I
wasn’t now responsible for a hurt young woman whose life was in danger.

At least until I heard Philip bellow my name from below.
After a small moment of regret for my undeserved peaceful morning, I started
down the stairs.

Ella ran smack into me at the bottom, full of indignant
sniffles. “Fucking bastard. I hate him!”

My melancholy was over—interrupted, at least. “What did you
do?”

“I didn’t do anything! I was nice. Like you told me to be!”

Nice? Her idea of nice was probably bank robbery.

I pushed past her and found Philip behind his desk, scowling
at some papers he held.

He looked up. “Keep her away from me, or you won’t like what
happens.”

“What did you do?”

His frown deepened. “Why do you assume I did something?”

I answered him by sinking into one of the armchairs by the
cold fireplace and leaning my head back on the plush leather.

He sighed. “She came on to me.”

“On to you,” I said dumbly. She freaked out when a guy
looked at her wrong. She had been nervous as hell about Philip. “You’re
mistaken.”

His look was droll. “I realize your own opinion of my allure
may be low, considering I paid for your attentions, but I assure you, I know when
I’m getting hit on. Particularly when the girl in question strips in my
office.”

My mouth fell open. Philip was a handsome man, but this was
ridiculous. “She doesn’t even like men. She hates them. She hates you.”

“She does now, because I told her to stop embarrassing
herself. It had the intended effect.”

A mixture of shock and shame flushed through me. “Even if
you’re right, then she’s confused. It was a rough night. There was no reason to
be mean. I told her she’d be safe here.”

“Well, I didn’t beat her,” he said. “Would you have
preferred I did?”

Philip’s tastes were extreme, perverted, violent—and
strictly consensual. That was my cue. I got up and strolled over, resting my
hip against his desk. “I’m sure I can stand in, if that’s what you want. You know
I can keep you satisfied.”

“We’re not doing that.”

I paused. “Not now.”

“Not ever.” His face was set into a mask of implacability.

“Is this about what happened with Ella? I’ll talk to her.
She won’t bother you again.”

“And neither will you.”

“Philip—”

Abruptly, he slammed his fist on the desk, and I jumped.

“How many ways do I have to say it? I don’t want her. I
don’t want your desperation or your fucking gratitude.”

I stared at his fist where it pressed against the mahogany.
“Then what do you want?”

Slowly, his hand unfurled, and he leaned back. “Nothing. You
can stay here as long as you need. No one will fuck anyone.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t sound sure about that. “Where’s my phone?”

“We couldn’t risk it being tracked,” he answered smoothly.
“I’d get you a temporary, but you don’t need one anyway while you’re here.”

There was my answer. I had lived in this house once as a
pampered pet. Now it seemed the leash had tightened.

“Those charges are nothing but smoke and mirrors. I’ve
already sent out some inquiries,” he said. “This will all be fixed soon
enough.”

I watched his gaze flicker away for just long enough to let
me know he was bluffing.

* * * *

I tracked Ella to the kitchen, which came as something of a
surprise unless she was there to steal the silverware. Only the appliances
gleamed gray, the flat-brushed metal nestled among swirled granite and
knotted-wood cabinetry. The room was beautiful, warm, and complex—Adrian’s
domain.

Ella sipped from a steaming mug as Adrian set a plate of
biscotti down in front of her. He frowned when he saw me but without the usual
mixture of distrust and anger in his eyes.

“Would you like some coffee?” he asked, and it sounded like
What the fuck did Philip do?

Seemed I wasn’t the only one adopting pets.

“I’m good. Can you give us a minute?”

Adrian left us, shooting daggers at me with his gaze that I
interpreted as a warning to play nice. Obviously he wasn’t as familiar with
Ella’s right hook as I was.

Ella stared fiercely at her coffee, stirring it with a piece
of biscotti.

I pulled up a chair to the hand-scraped oak table. “Wanna
tell me about it?”