four-year-old son.
Skye exhaled softly as the maddening ache of despair arced through her and she knew she had to put that aside for the moment. Her date—Carlton Essex III—wanted Skye D’Lane, gorgeous, sophisticated, with a willing disposition, on his arm and likely, in his bed by the end of the evening if the price was right. The thought caused bile to sear her throat but she gave no indication of her true feelings.
“You do not disappoint, Miss D’Lane,” Carlton murmured into her ear as the car pulled away, his hand resting a bit too closely to her inner thigh. The eagerness in his voice was downright disgusting. His gaze drifted over her silver metallic sheath and his breathing quickened.
“Neither do you,” she lied easily, hoping the evening ended soon. The client had booked her for a charity event at the Four Seasons where he would be donating a large sum to a center for rehabilitated prostitutes. Skye found the irony sickening, though she supposed in her own small way she was helping, too.
“Your skin is like smooth silk,” he said, his tongue sliding along his lower lip as if he were already tasting her. She withheld a shudder. This one would likely leave marks on her tender breasts. In a perverse way, she hoped he would. Belleni didn’t take it lightly when a client left marks on his girls; healing time caused downtime and downtime cost Belleni money. He began running his hand up her thigh, slowly lifting the hem of her dress. “So perfect…”
She wanted to scream Don’t touch me, you filthy pig, but instead she simply laughed and gave his hand a gentle nudge with a smile she didn’t feel and reminded him of the rules. “I’m sure Belleni explained our arrangement, yes?”
Carlton narrowed his already beady eyes and drew back with a displeased grunt. “No touching in public,” he answered. He paused a minute to adjust his girth in the well-tailored suit but his gaze skewed back to her with a glint that she didn’t trust as he said, “But we’re not in public and I want a preview of what I paid for.”
So crass. It was no wonder the man—as wealthy as he was—had to pay someone for company let alone sex. She managed a light laugh. “So impatient. The anticipation will sweeten the experience. We wouldn’t want to be late to your event.”
“They’ll wait. I want to see why you’re Belleni’s most expensive whore.”
She didn’t like the hard light in his eyes. Malice rolled off him in waves. Her pulse quickened as she considered her options. She chose her words carefully. “There are rules to follow if you don’t wish to find yourself on Belleni’s bad side,” she warned him, hoping it was enough to cool the hot lust in his stare.
But Carlton didn’t heed her warning. Hell, the subtle threat seemed to incite him further. He jerked her to him in a swift movement that Skye would’ve thought impossible given his size, squeezing a pained gasp from her even as she pushed against him. “What are you doing?” she tried demanding with some sort of authority, but in truth, fear had replaced her calm bravado. “This isn’t the way Belleni does business. You’re risking more than you know if you don’t follow the rules.”
He ignored her and directed his driver to pull around to the back of the bar, out of sight, tucked into the dark alley. His grip tightened on her flesh as her sheath rode up, exposing her rear. He tossed her to the seat and wasted little time in covering her body with his considerable girth. Oh, God, he was going to crush her. She pushed against him, panic fighting with her need to remain in control of the situation for her own sake.
“Please don’t…” she gasped.
His breath hot on her face, his thick hands groping under her dress, bruising the flesh as he sought the tender folds, caused her to react in pure instinct as she raked her fingers down his face hard enough to draw blood. He grunted in shocked pain, drawing away a fraction, giving her more room to breathe and wiggle away from him but while the Town Car was roomier than the standard sedan, Carlton’s bulk made it difficult to maneuver far. She reached for the door but before her hand could touch the handle, he hauled her back with his fist tangled in her long hair.
“You bitch,” he growled in her ear, his grip tight at her scalp. She twisted against his hold, blinking back tears of pain, refusing to give him what the sadistic bastard wanted. His lips stretched in an ugly knowing smile as he held her captive, helpless and scared. “You’ve been a bad girl. I like that. But you’ve made a mark on my face. Only I’m allowed to leave marks.” He drove his fist into her belly, the shock and agony of it causing her to suck air. Heaven help her, he was going to beat her, maybe even kill her. He didn’t care about the consequences.
“B-belleni will have your balls,” she managed to choke out but Carlton just laughed.
“You’re a whore. Easily bought and easily replaced,” he responded with a shrug, shredding her designer sheath to expose her breasts.
“S-stop,” she shrieked, true fear blotting out rational thought as she frantically tried to cover herself. She’d never been in such a situation before. Belleni only allowed select clientele to book his girls. Never before had she been paired with such a monster. She knew how to deal with overeager clients, not ones with a sadistic streak. Her phone and pepper spray were in her clutch, which had fallen to the floor when he’d thrown her. She twisted and reached desperately for her clutch but a lightning-fast crack across her jaw caused stars to fly around her head and black dots to pulse before her eyes.
“You’re a feisty one,” she heard him murmur, the appreciative tone sickening her. “Let’s see if you’re worth what I paid.”
Blood filled her mouth from her busted lip but she opened her mouth and screamed for all she was worth. Someone, oh, God, please help her.
CHRISTIAN HAD JUST STEPPED into the alley behind Martini to take his break when he stopped short at the muffled scream coming from the sleek Town Car that lurked in the shadows. The violent rock of the Town Car betrayed a tussle and by the sounds of it, a woman was involved. His brain directed him to return to the bar. It was best to remain uninvolved. The last thing he needed was to get tangled up in someone else’s business. But even as he turned, his hand reaching for the handle, his conscience balked. What if the woman was really getting brutalized? Could he live with himself if something bad happened to her? No. However, the logical side of his brain countered, what if it’s just some kinky couple who liked it rough and she’s in no real danger after all? Busting in on someone’s private time would only cause embarrassment all around.
The logical argument pulled considerable weight but as another scream sounded from the interior only to be cut suspiciously short, he said, “Screw it,” to the logical side of his brain and bounded for the car. But even as he told himself he’d deal with the ramifications of his actions later, he was shocked when he jerked open the door and saw the woman from the bar, bleeding and struggling feebly against the hulking mass on top of her, choking the life out of her.
CHAPTER TWO
“WHAT THE F—” THE FAT MAN startled as Christian reached inside the car and dragged him out and off the woman who looked in bad shape. He landed a solid punch to the man’s flabby, jowled face, knocking him to the ground, howling. The driver erupted from the car and trained a gun on him, the subtle shake in his grip betraying the fact that he’d probably never fired the thing, but it didn’t make Christian feel any less freaked that he was staring down the business end of a 9mm.
“Don’t do it, man,” he warned. “You’ve got a half-dead woman in your car right now and you don’t want to add more misery to your plate. I doubt your piece of shit employer is paying you well enough
