I, Porn Star (I #1) (23 page)

Oh shit.

He steps forward
and holds out the pouch to me. “Slip this into the asshole’s drink tonight.”

I step back.
“No.”

He closes the gap
between us. “I’m not giving you much of a choice here.”

“What is it?”

“It’s not poison.
Much as I want to wipe him off the face of the fucking planet, for one thing I
won’t put you in that position.”

I eye the white
powder. “So what position is this, then?”

He shrugs. “It’ll
knock him out till morning. He’ll wake up with a mild headache and no
recollection of the night before. But not much else.” He shakes the baggie. “We
both know you hate fucking him, Lucky. I’m giving you a way out.”

“But you’re not,
though, are you, Ridge?
You
want something.”

He attempts a
smile that doesn’t make it past the naked hunger cleaving his features. He
reaches forward with the hand holding the bag and runs his forefinger down my
cheek. “I dream of you when I go to sleep. Every single night. You know that?”

When I don’t answer,
he removes his hand.

“I know you took
something from Clay’s office. He hasn’t worked out what it is yet. He’s leaving
for the casino at eight-thirty. Make sure you spike Krakov’s drink before then.
I’ll make sure Clay knows the asshole’s not coming. Once Clay leaves for the
casino, come to his office. Bring whatever you took, and I’ll make all your
little sins go away.”

“In return for…?”

His gaze lands on
my mouth. His Adam’s apple bobs. “You know what I want. What I’ve wanted since
Clay hired me two years ago. You’ve denied me for long enough, Lucky.” He holds
out the bag. “Make it happen.”

He doesn’t need
to add anything else. I know I’m caught between the proverbial fucked rock and
a fucking hard place. I take the baggie, tuck it into the tiny zipper
compartment of my clutch.

I return to the
foyer with profuse apologies and my best acting skills firmly in place. But
Clay still stabs me with a hard, speculative stare. That stare strays to me
with alarming frequency for the rest of the time Krakov stays in the lounge and
cocktail bar. Contrary to what I thought was coming my way, Krakov draws out
the moment he takes me to his suite. My relief is palpable when he requests
dinner at seven. I pander to his every wish, while inside I’m a sticky hot
mess.

My instincts warn
me that climbing into bed with Ridge to save myself from Clay is the worst
possible solution to my problems.

But when Krakov
takes my hand after dinner and starts to lead me away from the dining room, I’m
out of options. Clay raises his glass to Krakov as we pass his seat. The
Russian, alarmingly sober despite the premium vodka he’s been knocking back for
the better part of four hours, slaps him on the back.

Clay’s gaze meets
mine, and my heart somersaults at the peculiar look in his eyes. Earl, who’s
also lurking nearby, sends me a scathing look as I leave the room. I want to
tell myself it’s my imagination, but the voice in my head won’t allow me.

When Krakov stops
in the bar for a nightcap, I take my chance and drag him to a dark booth. While
his head is buried between my breasts, I slip the powder into his drink. My
heart stops beating in the time it takes for the white powder to dissolve, and
I’m a whisper from fainting when he accepts the vodka and knocks it back.

I don’t know how long
I have before the drug takes effect, so I stand, put on my best pout, and bend
over so my cleavage is on full display. He takes the bait. I hurry to the
elevator, grateful when he dismisses his two bodyguards.

His gait starts
to weave as we reach his suite. I slip my arm around him and almost frog march
him inside. The bed is within easy distance. Krakov is out before his head hits
the pillow. The part of me that’s grateful I don’t have to endure his touch
tonight is woefully feeble against the greater evil lurking in my future.

Heart racing, I
undress him, scatter his clothes around the room, then with a quick prayer,
take out my travel size perfume and spray two puffs over his body. I don’t know
what will happen when I go to meet Ridge, but on the off chance Krakov wakes
up, my scent in his bed might buy me some credibility.

I hurry out of
the room and head for the North Wing. I have ten minutes to grab the encrypted
thumb drive I took from Clayton’s safe before Ridge’s eight-thirty deadline.

My heart is
racing out of control by the time I make it to my room. I sit on my bed and
take a minute to control my shaking. My gaze lands on my closet. I’m not sure
why I stand and head for it. Not sure why I drag out the backpack containing my
sacred-things-not-to-leave-behind.

I want to believe
that a higher power is looking out for me, prompting me in this direction. But
I’ve been crapped on too many times for the hollow belief to sustain me.
Nevertheless, I shove my purse and smaller backpack into the larger one. I know
it’s unlikely any of the girls will be up here at this time of night, but I
still make my way cautiously along the corridor and breathe in relief when I
make it to the elevator without encountering anyone.

I swipe my card
for the basement and peer out cautiously when the doors open. Most of the area
is shut down for the night, but the small corridor leading to Clay’s office is
lit. I stash the backpack under the desk nearest the elevator and make my way
to Clay’s office.

As I near it, I
smell cigar smoke. My heart stops.

Clay
.

He’s the only one
who smokes the Cubans. But Clay left for the casino. No, wait, I hadn’t
actually seen him leave.

I’m rooted on the
spot, unsure whether to flee or confront my fate.

The office door
opens and Ridge walks through. “I thought I heard the elevator.” He attempts a
smile and holds up a lit Cuban. “I hope you don’t mind the smell. When the boss
is away, and all that, right?”

“C—Clay’s
not here?”

He frowns. “No. I
told you, he’s gone to the casino.” He stands back and beckons me in.

My feet unfreeze
and I enter.

Ridge shuts the
door and I hear a distinct click. I whirl to face him, and he shrugs. “No one’s
going to come down here, but I don’t want us to be disturbed. Is that okay?”

I jerk out a nod,
because what the fuck else can I say?

He takes a long
pull from the cigar, blows dirty rings toward the ceiling before he walks to
where I’m standing in the middle of the office. “First things first. What you
took from Clay’s safe. Let’s have it.” He holds out his hand.

Slowly I take out
the thumb drive. It’s the same drive I stole from the safe earlier in the week,
replacing it with a blank one. The one I’m handing back is the real thing
containing details Clay’s PI dug up on Petra’s whereabouts, but I’ve had the
hacker put a virus on it. Should Clay or anyone not too tech-savvy try to
access the information, the drive would corrupt. I thought of destroying it,
but something held me back. Maybe that higher power that foresaw this moment?

I mentally shrug.

Ridge takes the
drive from me and goes to the safe. He inputs the code, but instead of placing
the drive in, he removes the blank one and places them both on the desk. He
walks back without shutting the safe and perches on the edge of Clay’s desk.
“Take your hair down,” he murmurs through another cloud of cigar smoke. “I hate
it when you wear it up like that.”

I try to blank my
mind, the way I do when I’m with a client. But this situation is different.
Petra’s safety is on the line.

Hands shaking, I
remove the clips holding my hair up. He murmurs his approval when my hair
cascades down around my face. He props the cigar on the edge of an ashtray and
approaches me.

For a long
moment, he stares down at me. “Sweet heaven, you’re gorgeous.”

He picks me up
and walks me to the wall. I feel the suppressed strength in his arms. I can
tell he’s trying to be gentle, but gentle isn’t in his nature. I look into his
eyes and I’m amazed he’s held back the torrid hunger for this long.

He props me up
with his body and runs his hands over me. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for
this?”

“Uh…no. Ridge?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs,
but his attention is absorbed in the hands molding my breasts.

“Clay. Are you
sure he doesn’t know?”

His gaze doesn’t
lift from my chest. He pulls my dress down and cups me again through my lace
bra. “Let me worry about Clay.”

“What does that
mean?”

“Exactly that. If
you give me what I want…if you
keep
giving me what I want, he’ll never
find out what you did.” His head descends and he delivers open-mouthed kisses
across the tops of my breasts.

Something is
wrong. I know it in my gut. I recall Clay’s stare as I left the dining room
earlier, and my breath strangles. Ridge hooks his fingers beneath my bra. A
livid eagerness sparks his features. I close my eyes and brace myself.

His cell phone
rings.

“Fuck!” He looks
from my chest to my face and for a second I fear he’s going to ignore the call.

But he sets me
down. “Hold that thought.” He pulls out his phone. “Yes, boss.”

I stop in the act
of adjusting my dress and hold my breath.

Ridge paces to
the end of the office and turns to face me. “Yes, I have both drives.”

My eyes widen in
alarm.

He smirks. “No, I
haven’t had a chance to check them yet. It’ll need careful handling if there’s
a worm on it.”

I’m aware my
heart has stopped beating, that my fear is naked and raw.

“Yes, boss. I
should have the information for you by morning. No problem. And Clay? Thanks
for giving her to me tonight.” His gaze locks on mine. “I know how special she
is to you.”

My vision blurs.
I sway against the wall and I know I’m going to pass out. But I can’t.

Petra. Have to
save my sister.

I lurch towards
the door. I make it, but it won’t budge. I recall Ridge locking it. He must
have the key in his pocket. I yank at it again, desperate and consumed with
terror.

Strong arms lift
me clean off the floor and yank me towards the desk. “Wrong move, little girl.”

“Why?” I hate the
fear ripping through my voice but my mind is spinning from the sheer deadliness
of the trap I’ve walked into.

“Ask yourself the
same question. You’re trying to keep a father from his child! You know how the
care system fucks you up?” He tosses me on the desk and holds me down with one
large hand. The gentleness is gone. “No child deserves that.”

I open my mouth
to refute the claim, but stop just in time. I’m not going to tell him that
Petra is with a loving family. A family, who agreed to relocate, go into hiding
just to protect her.

“We came real
close last month, Clay and I. That shit farm in Idaho where she was stashed? We
missed her. But you know why I love working for Clayton Getty? ’Cuz he’s
fucking
relentless
. He was only my CO for a year, but he’s the leader I
dreamed of serving.”

Clay served for a
spell in the Army before his father’s death brought him back to Getty Falls. The
bond between the two men finally makes sense. My fear triples.

“You don’t know
anything about her! Why would you want to bring her here, to this place?” I scream.

“You want her
mucking out horse shit, rather than be treated like a fucking queen?”

He’s delusional.

“We’re whores.
I’d die before I let you or Clay lay a finger on her!”

“It’s not really
up to you, princess. I’ve seen pictures of her. You’re fucking stunning. But
your sister…she’s something else. She could
own
this place.” The light
in his eyes sickens me to my soul.

I struggle
against the hand pressing me down. But he restrains me easily. Slowly, he bends
down. My legs flail as I try to find purchase. His mouth lands on mine and he
moans. Against my belly, I feel the thick ridge of his erection.

I fight harder,
but he raises his head and laughs. “I’m going to have you tonight, little girl.
Tonight and every night until your sister gets here. Then I’m going to have her
too.”

The thick roar
that erupts from my throat blinds me for a second. But it’s not just the roar.
Smoke drifts into the air and enters my lungs as I search blindly for
something, anything to defend myself with. My fingers find the thick ashtray
made of solid glass. I grab and swing.

Ridge staggers
off me. Rage fills his eyes. I scramble off the table and race away from him.
He lurches toward me, retribution and lust burning in his face.

Fear threatens to
paralyze me, but I can’t afford to let it. I search the room and my gaze lands
on the open safe.

Inside it is a
black, gleaming piece. Clay’s gun.

I grab hold of
it. Point it at him. “Stop. Please.”