by Sam Crescent
Turning his attention to Alex, he smiled. “Thank you for letting me know and keeping her company.”
“Any time.”
“You told him?” Meghan asked.
“He had a right to know if you were okay.”
“You traitor, I thought we were friends?”
“We are friends, and part of that is making sure you’re okay. Damon’s a good guy.” She snorted. “He’s the one that has been giving me money and making sure I’m fed and I’ve got a roof over my head, Meghan. He’s a good guy, regardless of what others say. You always told me not to judge someone before you got to know them.”
This kid was totally getting a bonus.
“Remember what I said.” Damon looked at the kid, waiting.
“The better grades I get, you’ll throw in a bonus. I got it, and I’m working on it.”
He nodded at the boy before turning back to Meghan. “Are you coming?”
“If I say no?”
“You don’t get to walk back to the car.”
He saw her gritting her teeth, the clench of her jaw, but she didn’t argue with him. She gave Alex a quick hug and then turned toward him.
He took her hand, not caring in that moment if anyone saw.
“I wasn’t running away. I meant that. I just needed to make sure everything was okay. I can’t believe someone else is already living in my old place though. Damn landlord, he was always money-hungry.”
“Alex is living there,” Damon said.
“What?”
“Alex, he lives there. I cleaned out the place, got it redecorated, put some new furniture in and then told him to live in it. Didn’t you notice he was carrying a bag? He was heading home from school.”
“Oh, I had no idea. I didn’t even ask him how school was going. He nearly got suspended once for fighting. I told him no matter how much he wanted to hit someone, to go tell a teacher. His education would get him a good start in life.”
“You know I didn’t go to college,” Damon said.
“You didn’t?”
“There are two starts in life, Meghan. There’s the one that you make where your family wants the best for you, and then there’s the one I know.”
“Which is?”
“You grow up on the streets and you learn to adapt that way. That’s how I grew up. I built myself up.”
“I’ve seen you come home with blood on your shirt. Alex is fifteen, and he’s a good kid. Nice. He deserves to have more than beating the shit out of someone for money.”
He actually found that a compliment, but he was also still buzzing from the fact she called his place “home.”
Keeping her in his apartment block seemed to be working.
Heading out onto the street, he smiled as he saw Rex’s car already gone.
“I should have known I couldn’t be gone for long,” she said.
“You’ve got to understand, a deal’s a deal.”
“I can’t do this though. I’ve not seen the outside in so long.” He didn’t let her go, so when she stayed still, he had no choice but to turn toward her to see what the holdup was. She glared at him. He watched as she jumped up and down, landing on the ground. “See. I need to be outside. Working, finishing my classes. I don’t care, just don’t keep me locked up in that place.”
“You want to start coming out with me?”
This made her pause. “I don’t want to see the damage you cause.”
He smirked. “It’s not damage if people deserve it, babe. Believe me.”
“I’ll never understand why you hurt someone for money. It’s not worth it.”
“You really see the good in everything, don’t you?” he asked.
“No. I see that people have choices, and you can either choose to be nice or mean to them. That’s not something you should be proud of.”
“I run a business. Word gets out that I let one payment slip, they will all be slipping.”
She rolled her eyes.
He grabbed her arm and pressed her up against the body of his car. Putting both of his hands on either side of her body, he glared at her. “Let’s get something straight. You were brought up by parents that loved you. That cared. They would do anything for you. They wanted what was best for you. I had a mother who would rather pass her son around to be used as a punching bag so she could get her next high. I know how the world really works. Sex, drugs, and money. It makes the world go around. Someone is always searching for the next high; you have to be willing to fuck to survive, and then fight to stay alive. Do you understand me? Don’t judge me on what you don’t know.”
He moved her out of the way of the door, opening up the passenger side and helping her in.
Slamming the door closed, he rounded the vehicle and watched as she buckled in. Her hand shook a little as she strapped in.
She was getting to him.
Meghan was becoming a real distraction and not one he wanted to ignore or throw away either.
She’d already lasted longer than any other female he’d been with. They were all easy to get. Women threw themselves at him, but Meghan didn’t. She made sure he did all the leg work, and he didn’t mind at all.
In fact, he loved chasing her.
The moment he got home from a really long day, he fucking relished the sight of her. She was an angel mixed in with all of his hell.
He wasn’t kidding about his life.
From a young age, he’d been beaten for the amusement of others. Suffered many broken bones, and then of course was the rapes that he wouldn’t let her know about. Her mother made sure he paid for her sins. When he was finally old enough to fight back, he did. He made sure his mother didn’t get any more happy times, and in turn, he snuffed the life out of her. To this day, no one knew what happened to her, but he did.
After killing her with his bare hands, he’d dumped her body in the ocean and he’d waited as it sank to the bottom, hoping sharks took care of her.
That was over twenty years ago.
It was why Rose better count herself lucky because if she ever said a thing out of line, or put Meghan’s life in danger, she’d join his first kill so fucking fast, she’d be dead within a flash.
Chapter Seven
Three days later, Meghan sat at the edge of a fighting ring. There were so many people packed into a tiny space, cheering as two men seemed intent on murdering each other on sight.
This was not legal.
She knew that.
There were no boxing gloves, and the floor was covered in blood.
Other than the announcer, there was no one there to be a referee for the fights. Also, last time she checked, kicking someone during a legal fight wasn’t allowed.
Every time a blow landed, she didn’t cheer; she winced and tried to look away.
Since her and Damon’s argument outside of her old apartment building, he’d been intent on taking her everywhere with him.
She didn’t have a guard now.
Nope, she had Damon.
He took her everywhere, and even if she had to excuse herself to use the bathroom, he followed. There was no escape.
It was weird. Even though in some way, she now had less freedom, she actually enjoyed being around him.
Now when it came to business like this, Damon seemed determined to show her another side of the world she’d once tried to defend.
Wealth filled the room as they threw hundred-dollar bills to see the bloodshed.
When another blow landed with the sickening echo of a crunch, she looked at Damon, who was watching her.
“Don’t like fights?”
“I can’t stand the sound of breaking bones. It … brings back memories.”
He watched her, but she couldn’t help herself.
Leaning forward, she rubbed at her ankle, once again feeling the old shooting pain in her leg. It didn’t help that she had on heels.
“Do we have to stay to see the fight?”
“No. I had no intention of staying this long. Co
me on.” He took her hand, and she was relieved as they walked out into the fresh air of the night.
After a long day at his gym where she watched and listened to his business, she sat in his office following his instructions, doing everything a secretary would do. Copy papers, answer the phone, deal with his coffee, and of course make notes.
For the most part, it looked like he ran a legit business.
Then she’d see a guy or a woman, and they’d start to beg for an extension, and the reality of his work made it impossible to ignore.
He was a monster to the core, and yet, she found herself drawn to him.
His life wasn’t hers.
She hadn’t grown up trying to fight for her life.
Her parents had been loving, caring. They’d gone out of their way to make her happy. Dancing had been her passion until it was taken away. They hadn’t allowed her to become depressed by her lack of ability to dance.
They helped her to change her path, to find another life that she’d enjoy.
Damon opened the car door for her, and she climbed inside.
A beautiful, long evening gown had been brought to the gym, and he’d asked her to wear the outfit for him tonight. So she had.
The dress was long, red, and molded to her curves like a second skin. She felt sensual, sexy, ready to take on the world. The heels, not so much.
There was a reason she always opted for flats.
The damage from her shattered ankle all those years ago had meant she felt certain pains. Most of the time, she ignored them and lived a comfortable life.
Dancing made it worse, and she couldn’t balance on one foot. Heels also made life uncomfortable and difficult as the angle seemed to put her ankle in a position that made her cry out in pain.
She kept ignoring it though. So long as she wasn’t on her feet for long, she’d be fine, and she wasn’t about to beg Damon for a reprieve.
Neither of them spoke as he navigated traffic.
The thing about living in a city, it never slept. There was always traffic, always life, always someone who wanted to party.
He pulled up outside of a nightclub twenty minutes later.
She wanted to whimper as she saw the queue was so long. She wouldn’t be able to stand all that long.
He climbed out of the car and someone was already there to take it.
Damon took her hand, aware of the murmurs that erupted from seeing him.
He didn’t go to the back of the queue like other people who arrived. He went straight to the front, and they let him inside.
“Does this place belong to you?” she asked.
“As a silent investor, I get what I want.”
She noticed they were heading to the VIP section.
There was a private table that overlooked the dance floor. The music was slow, sexy, and it had her body tingling all over, especially when Damon helped her into her seat. His hands were on her shoulders, stroking her before he laid a gentle kiss to her nape.
She closed her eyes for a split second, basking in the feel of him so close to her.
He was driving her need for him higher, and she couldn’t control herself.
Sex with Damon had fast turned into a drug.
He was dirty.
Raw.
Dangerous.
Exciting.
And there was nothing he didn’t want to do.
He’d spend hours playing with her body, teasing her, drawing her closer and closer to orgasm. When he would finally push her over the edge, and she’d come, screaming his name, he still wasn’t done with her.
He’d make her burn for him, make her watch as he slid his naked cock deep within her and fill her with his cum.
“I can see all the dirty thoughts going on inside that head of yours.”
She smiled. “You can?”
“Yes. You’re thinking about my dick deep inside you.”
She glanced around the VIP section, and he chuckled. “None of them care what I say.”
“I saw a couple of women who wanted you, Damon. I’d say they cared.”
“Jealous?”
“No.”
“Shame because I’d be.”
“Of what?”
“Of any man who thought they could touch you. You belong to me and always will. No one can have you. I don’t share.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do I have to share you?”
“I see a hint of jealousy there.” She didn’t say anything, merely waited for him to confirm or deny that she had a hold over him as well. He released a sigh. “You play hardball, don’t you?”
“I just need to know if you’ve got to start wearing condoms.”
He glared at her. “I belong to you. There’s no way I’d be with any other woman.”
Their drinks arrived at the table. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose. Alcohol was not something she enjoyed or wanted.
Putting the drink to one side, she watched the dance floor, wishing she could be there.
Seconds passed, and Damon suddenly stood up.
“Come,” he said.
“What?”
He held his hand out. “Let’s dance.”
“I can’t dance.”
“I don’t want to argue, Meghan. I want to take you onto that dance floor and dance.”
She wanted to growl at him that she couldn’t dance. Instead, she took his hand, and he took her to the dance floor. The heels she wore hurt like hell.
The music was still slow, and as he put his arm around her waist and held her close, she tried not to think about how good it felt to be in his arms, or the feel of his hands on her body.
Whenever he held her like this, she loved the comfort he provided her. Not provided, offered.
There was a safety in his arms. No one could touch her, and she loved that he held her. His grip on her tightened.
The biggest problem was basking in his touch wasn’t easy.
The pain in her ankle, however, was a nightmare. Sweat covered her body, and she tried not to think of the shooting pain in her ankle, or that it was getting harder to move.
Damon didn’t seem to notice.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore, and she whimpered. Her ankle gave out, and he held her tightly to him.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Tears filled her eyes.
This was a reminder of all that she’d lost.
He didn’t make a spectacle out of her.
She watched as he went down to the floor and removed her heels. The moment he did, she felt the pressure ease off her ankle, but it was still sore.
“I’ve got you. Come on.”
The way he talked to her.
The sweet tone of his voice.
She knew that was going to be a lot harder to resist.
****
Damon placed the wrapped packet of frozen peas on her ankle. The moment the cold hit her ankle, she let out a hiss, but he saw her eyes seemed to roll back in her head.
He’d noticed the pain had started to get worse, but he’d waited for her to call time on dancing.
The pain had been increasing throughout the night.
Her pain threshold was high.
He sat close to her and handed her a whiskey.
“What is so wrong with water?”
“It’ll help with the pain.”
“I don’t want to drink away the pain.”
He took a sip of the whiskey he’d poured for himself and handed her the glass of water he poured. He also had a couple of painkillers, but she shook her head.
“You’re that stubborn?”
“It’s not about being stubborn. I want to make sure the pain doesn’t get any worse, and I’ve heard of people injuring themselves more because they numbed the pain.” She took a deep breath, resting her head against the sofa. “I’ll be fine. I just can’t wear heels for long.”
Damn. He really liked her wearing those heels, but he a
lso happened to like being with her minus the pain. It was a sacrifice he’d be more than happy to make.
“Okay. You could have told me. I wouldn’t have made you wear them.”
“I wanted to see if I could. I wasn’t being a pain or anything or trying to make this harder. I just, I’ve not tried heels in a long time.”
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” he asked.
He knew all that he needed, but to hear it from her, he’d like that.
“It’s boring.”
“It’s you. I want to know.” He pulled her legs across his lap and took the bag of peas, placing it on her bad ankle.
Since her incident had been in the file, he’d seen the damage caused to her ankle.
“I used to dance,” she said. “From a kid, I loved dancing so much. No matter the music, I was up and doing my thing. I was pretty good, too. My parents paid for a trainer, and she believed I had real potential. Anyway, one day, my parents were having a makeover of the lawn, and I was helping. Rose, she was carrying a paving stone, and she shouldn’t have been. Dad told her repeatedly not to move them.” She paused, and he knew what came next. “She tripped over something and dropped the paving stone. Before I could move it landed on my ankle, crushing the bone.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Rose had said it was an accident. My parents believed it was.”
“You don’t.”
“It wasn’t an accident. I know that now,” she said.
“How?”
“Because she told me to have fun dancing after she dropped it. It’s like she knew she’d just ruined my life.” She shrugged, but he saw the tears in her eyes and it pissed him off. He wanted to fucking kill her sister.
Reading about it and now seeing the pure devastation on her face, he felt sick to his stomach with murderous rage.
“My parents always told me I had one sister and that I had to love my family.”
“Even when that family is a nasty fucking bitch?”
“Even then.” She let out a chuckle. “I can’t dance. I can’t wear heels either. Sometimes if I’m not careful and I twist, the pain is so intense I collapse.”
“I just wanted you to have fun.”
“Can I give you a tip?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“I don’t like fighting or the sound of breaking bone.” She pointed at her ankle. “It kind of reminds me of that day. It hurts like hell.”