Everything He Wants (3 page)

"And what about that job you're supposed to be doing?" I picked his coat off the ground and transported it to the hanger near the door. "I don't need a call telling me you were drunk off your ass and fell off some scaffolding, you know?"

"Aw, I'm touched. Here I thought you didn't care."

His voice put my teeth on edge. "Oh, I don't. I just don't feel like handling the paperwork. And you know how much I hate talking to your folks over the phone."

He offered me a partial shrug as he pulled his tattered t-shirt up and off. "Here." He threw the garment to me, but I didn't catch it. "Fine, be that way."

I sighed. How I put up with him for close to five years is anyone's guess. Love really must be blind.
Same old Dennis.
It's amazing how he was the one who broke it off. Seeing him now, I had no idea how I managed to deal with his constant mess and blatant disrespect.

It didn't help the fact he'd found out about my services after he came across my ad on a site I thought for sure he'd never visit.
Nothing on the web is private.
He found out about me and my illegal business before I could find a way to cover it up. And now I was stuck meeting with him almost every day to keep him quiet.

"Well, aren't you going to get undressed?" he asked, taking the cuffs in his hands. "I need to get back soon."

And I need to get back to my sanity.
"Don't we all." I closed my eyes. Looked at him again. "Damn, you're still here."

"I guess I should be happy you don't charge by the minute."

I glared at him. "Didn't you get my message?"

"No, why?"

"I canceled."

"Then do you mind explaining these?" He nodded to the cuffs in his hand. "If you canceled, then why are these out?"

"It was last minute."

"What? Canceling, or getting out the cuffs?"

"Canceling."

"On your period?"

"Jesus, Dennis, no."

"Then?" He raised an eyebrow at me. "I honestly don't see the problem."

You wouldn't.
I ground my teeth. "Whatever. Just hurry up."

"Hurry up?" He laughed. "Well, this is new. So anxious to see me leave? Who is he?"

I glanced back at him. "What?"

"You've obviously got plans."

"So what if I do?"

"I want to know who
he
is."

"It's none of your concern."

"Isn't it?" He closed the space between us and pulled my hair. "Does he know you like this? What about how much you love being tied to the bed? You haven't told him, have you?" A sly grin spread across his face. "Well then, I guess I should help you get ready for your date."

I swallowed. I'd heard him use that voice before, and it took every ounce of reserve I had not to break down.
Just let him get it out of his system.
The sooner I did, the sooner he'd leave.

Drawing in a shaky breath, I gestured toward the bed.

Dennis pulled on my hair again. "No. I want you here." He unbuttoned my jeans and drew them down to my knees along with my underwear. "Get down on the floor like the slut you are."

He'd had more than a few drinks. I knew that now. Sure, he'd been rough with me in the past, but he knew how far to go and what lines not to cross. Unfortunately, now wasn't one of those times.

I could've called the cops. I should've, but his threats of outing my business—empty threats or not—kept mine at bay. It was blackmail of the worst degree, and there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it.
I need this job.
I had nothing else.

"I don't have time to restrain you today," he said, drawing me back to the present. The bitterness in his voice caught me off guard. "Get down."

He pushed me down onto my hands and knees. I stared at the ground.
He isn't going to restrain you.
For once I was happy he had a job to get back to.
Probably some extra booze, too.
That much I didn't doubt.

The sound of his zipper sent a ripple up my spine, and I clawed at the carpeting. I knew what was coming, and if I knew Dennis as well as I thought I did, his jealousy would have as much a part in this as his drunken haze did.

I tuned him out. All of it. I was vaguely aware of his hands on my hips. Of him thrusting into me. And then...nothing. As I slowly slipped into my subconscious, I pushed him from my mind. I considered thinking about my lover, but linking him to whatever Dennis was doing to me wouldn't help.

So I waited. I could've fought back, but his frame overpowered my own. Years of working in construction had a lot to do with it. And if his strength wasn't enough, his continued threats of reporting me to the authorities for illegal prostitution were.

"Get up," he snapped. "Are you even listening to me?"

I bobbed my head and stood, fixing my clothes as I did. His back was turned to me, and I quickly dried my eyes.

"I need a drink," he said, making his way toward the kitchen. "Kitty, where do you have it again?"

"Crisper drawer. Same as always."

I gingerly lowered myself onto the couch. My legs were shaking, and my hands weren't any better.
You really fucked me up this time, didn't you, Dennis?
I'd probably feel it in the morning, which meant canceling on my clients. Again.
Guess it's a good thing you have that well paying job tonight.

Dennis walked back into the living room and leaned against the wall, drinking from a bottle that was already half empty. "Stuff tastes like piss."

"Well, you can buy your own from now on because you know I don't drink," I said.

"Such a shame. You'd be a lot more fun if you did. You're too goddamned tense."

Gee, I wonder why.
"If that's the case, I can always refer you to another escort. Costs more, but at least she won't know what a jerk you are. Actually, the more I think about it, it would be a win-win, wouldn't you say?"

His lips thinned into a bleached line. "You're just mad because you want to get ready for that date of yours."

He drained the rest of his beer, set the empty bottle on the TV stand, then made his way to the door. I didn't get up. He was more than capable of walking himself out.

My throat tightened when he stopped. Turned back toward me.
Fuck. Here we go. What is it this time?
Money. Girlfriends. My job?

He cleared his throat. "How's business?"

"Seriously? You had me on my knees and that's what you're going with?"

"What? Can't I take an interest?"

"No, you can't. Especially because I know where this is going. I already told you, I'm not interested. Not in hooking up or trying to save what's already lost. You broke up with me, remember?"

"And I was an idiot for it."

"You said it, not me."

"Look, I'm more than ready to forget and move on."

"And if I'm not? Doesn't that count for something?"

"Of course, but...look at you."

"I seem to be doing pretty well on my own, all things considered. Better than when we were together if I remember correctly."

"And how are these other clients of yours any different?"

"They aren't you, which means we have no history. It's business, and for now, that's about all I can handle. In fact, I should probably get ready for my next client."

"I thought you said you canceled."

"I tried to cancel on you. I didn't say anything about anyone else." My cheeks burned. "Please, leave."

He grabbed his jacket. "We aren't done talking about this."

"You aren't. I don't honestly care either way. I want you to leave. Now."

"Don't want me to meet the trash you fuck?"

I clenched my jaw, steeling myself for whatever he decided to say next. "I'm looking right at him."

"Tomorrow, Kira. We'll continue this tomorrow."

I winced when the door slammed behind him. My nameless lover was right. I couldn't keep doing this. My clients weren't the ones I was afraid of. It was my ex.

I thought for sure nothing could beat my plans for this evening. Turns out, I forgot how easy it was for my ex to go from zero to sixty in one second flat.

Be glad he doesn't know you canceled your other clients.
He probably had his suspicions, but there's no way he could know for sure.

What I was even more thankful for was the fact he hadn't checked his voicemail and realized I'd canceled—on everyone.

W
ear something comfortable usually translated to nothing at all when it came to Dennis, but seeing as Dennis hadn't been the one to suggest it, I settled for something that wasn’t as revealing. I sucked in a breath as I tried to work the threading of my corset.

"Jesus, when's the last time I wore this?" I grumbled, pulling the laces even tighter.

I wasn't sure if it was my size anymore. Did it always take this long to lace the damned thing?

"Wear something comfortable,"
he'd said.

God, why do men have to be so vague?
Did he want me to dress up? What was this place anyway? The card was from someplace called
The Limelight
, but damn if I knew what it was. It could've been anything. A bar. A restaurant. A club. There were no other clues, just a name, an address and phone number.

I'd considered calling the number most of the afternoon, and finally, around seven o' clock, my curiosity got the best of me.

A young woman answered on the other end. "This is
The Limelight
, how may I help you?"

"Hi, yes." I cleared my throat. "I'm supposed to meet someone there tonight, but he never told me what the dress code is."

"Oh, of course." The woman laughed. "Nothing too formal. Casual or whatever's comfortable is fine."

"Thank you."

After hanging up, I scrapped the idea of going in a corset and skirt. If I could have it my way, I'd be going in a t-shirt and jeans.
Something in the middle maybe.
A blouse would have to do. It was still comfortable, and by wearing jeans, no one would turn their nose if I wore sneakers along with them.

I decided to leave my hair down and headed out to the car. The ride over wasn't as bad as I expected, even for Seattle.

"Turn left after two hundred feet,"
my GPS said, directing me into a very small parking lot that was already full.
"You have reached your destination."

Great.
I hated parking in cities. Parallel parking wasn't one of my strong suits, and the little parking that was available was almost always taken. But, after driving circling the block, I grabbed a spot around the corner.

I turned off the ignition and put the keys in my pocket along with my cell. Business card in hand, I headed to the address printed on the thick paper. Bright neon lights hung above the entrance. The few windows I could see were tinted, and could've either belonged to
The Limelight
or one of the surrounding shops. 

I rolled my shoulders back and mustered the most confident look I could before stepping through the double doors. The air in the lobby was cool compared to the humid September evening I’d left outside. It wasn't as bad as it had been in August, but fall couldn't come soon enough.

A woman stood at a podium not far in front of me as she scanned over a piece of paper.
It's a restaurant,
I decided. She wasn't dressed like a hostess, not unless the hostess of a restaurant wore a business suit, but the noise down the hall complete with the clattering silverware insisted it was.

"Name?" the woman asked when I closed the distance between us, not looking up from her paper.

Geeze, no eye contact?
I shrugged it off. "Actually, this is going to sound strange, but he never gave it to me."

Now she did look at me, her eyes softening. "No, sweetie, your name."

Heat rushed into my cheeks. "Oh, sorry. It's Kira. Kira Thorn."

The woman looked over her list, then grinned. "Ah, there you are. You can go on in. The event's about to start."

"But I..." I swallowed and glanced behind me, but thus far, I was the only one to have walked in. "Maybe I'm too early."

"Let me see." She checked her list again. "Nope. He's inside."

I bowed my head and took a deep breath. "Thank you."

"No problem. First time to
The Limelight
?"

"That obvious, huh?"

There was that smile again. "We're all beginners at some point. Enjoy your evening."

I frowned and checked down the hall.
This has got to be the strangest restaurant I've ever been to.
Beginners?
Beginners at what?
And where the hell was the waitress or whoever was supposed to take me to our table?

Maybe you seat yourself.
That would make complete sense if he wasn't already in there. Realizing I wouldn't be getting an escort, I hugged my arms around myself and made my way down the hall. There was a door at the end of it, and as I got a closer, I realized the noise on the other side was a lot louder than I thought back in the lobby.

I opened the door and peered around the room, almost falling on my ass when I realized there weren't any tables at all.
This is no restaurant.
Couples sat, stood and leaned all around the room. Some of them wore a t-shirt and jeans like me; others wore very little at all. But every face I saw, none of them looked like him, or who I expected him to be.

I shrunk against the doors, feeling completely out of place. The noise in the room stopped as the lights dimmed, and like everyone else, I stared at a makeshift stage at the far end of the room.

My breath caught when a man stepped on stage, wearing what appeared to be the same suit my lover had been wearing in my kitchen hours earlier.
It's him.
It had to be. Out of everyone in the room, he was the first to give me pause.

He said you'd know it was him.
I couldn't be sure until he spoke. Feeling as uneasy as when I'd first walked in, I stepped away from the door and leaned with my back to the wall.

A second man joined him on stage, as well as a very lithe woman in a robe. The man, who I was pretty sure was the same man in my apartment, laid out a length of red rope on the stage in front of them.