by Marni Mann
“We’re not going to your office.” I turned at the light, making sure to stay within ten of the speed limit.
“We’re going to your place?”
I glanced at her. Still no sign that she wanted me.
“Nah, not there either,” I said.
I took a few more turns and pulled into a lot, shifting into park and shutting off the engine. “You got me high, Layla, and now, you have to feed me.”
“What is this place?”
“It’s the best Cuban restaurant in Miami.”
“I need to make a phone call if you want—”
I put my finger against her lips, the gloss sticking to my skin. “Food first. Business later.”
Tyler
Six Years Ago
This mysterious dark-haired woman was waiting for me to give her an answer. Was I interested in the ways she could help me? Or did I want to walk away and never see her again?
What confused me was why she thought I needed help. Something told me she would give me that answer soon.
I was intrigued to hear it.
If I didn’t like what she had to say, I’d just walk away.
I had nothing to lose.
“Do you want to hear what I can do for you, Tyler?”
Her accent was enchanting. Not too thick where her words ran together, but just enough that it made her even more exotic. I hadn’t heard any accents in my small town in Kansas, but I’d heard several here in San Diego. None were quite as alluring as hers.
“Yes,” I finally said, “I want to hear more.”
She smiled, showing perfectly straight teeth that were white as snow. “I was hoping you’d say that. I have plans for you, and I want to get started right away.”
“What kind of plans?” My chest suddenly felt so heavy.
I couldn’t imagine taking on more in addition to my schoolwork and my job at the campus coffee shop.
“It’s a job.”
I shook my head. “Not interested.”
She put her hand on mine, stopping me from getting up. “What if I said you could pay for your tuition in cash, and you wouldn’t have to maintain a high GPA anymore because you wouldn’t need that scholarship?” Her smile widened. “Do I have your attention now?”
She released my fingers, so I rested my elbow on the back of the couch, holding my chin with the palm of my other hand. “Maybe.”
“If you work for me, Tyler, you can have anything you ever wanted. Anything you ever dreamed of. You’ll have more money than you know what to do with.”
Nothing was that easy. There had to be a catch, and I had a feeling it had something to do with spreading my legs.
“You’re asking me to sell my body. I knew that was what Wynter was doing. No way in hell would I ever—”
Her laugh cut me off. “No, baby. This job has nothing to do with your body.” Her stare left me and moved to the other side of the room. “Do you see that man over there? The one in the dark gray suit?”
I followed her gaze. “Yes.”
“He has a two-hundred-thousand-dollar limit on his credit card, and tonight, he’s going to spend almost half of it on Wynter.”
I searched her eyes for an answer, but they told me nothing. “How do you know that?”
“It’s my job to know.” She nodded again toward the man. “Watch.”
As if she had been called, Wynter suddenly appeared at the man’s side. She was full of smiles and sensual giggles, and she handed him a drink. I couldn’t hear anything he said, but his body language told me he was charmed by her.
Her flirting grew thicker.
She shifted her hair to reveal more of her neck, arching her back to tighten the top of her dress. She’d touch the lapels of his suit every few seconds to make sure his attention never left her.
“She’s not going to sleep with him?” I asked.
“No. She’s not even going to kiss him.”
I couldn’t believe what this woman was saying because anyone looking at Wynter and this man would think they were seconds away from making out. Wynter appeared so happy; he was just as smitten.
A kiss was going to happen.
And, just when I thought I was seconds away from being right, Wynter’s hand grabbed his, and she led him toward a door in the back of the room. The two of them then disappeared behind it.
“Where are they going?” I turned toward the woman. “I know I’m right. I know—”
“Tyler”—her expression became so serious—“besides holding his hand, Wynter will not touch him. She’s not allowed to. None of my girls are. We don’t leave marks. We don’t leave DNA. We especially don’t get attached.”
“So, what is she going to do?”
She continued to gaze at me, her eyes never leaving my face. “If you want to be a part of this, I need to know right now. I’m not going to give you time to think about it. I’m not going to give you all the details. All I’m going to tell you is, you will never give anyone your body. You’ll have everything you want and more money than you’ll ever need. We will take care of you. All of us. We’re a family, Tyler, and everyone is equal. We don’t play favorites. We love unconditionally. And we will love you.”
I didn’t know what that felt like.
I had a family. Four brothers, a mom, and a dad, and none of them gave a shit about me. I was nothing but a shadow in that house, and no one ever looked over their shoulder to see me. Even when I had rebelled, doing things I hoped would get me in trouble, I hadn’t been grounded. No one cared enough to punish me. To yell at me. To even notice where the hell I was.
“What’s the downside?” I asked. “There has to be one.”
I found myself holding my breath as I waited for her answer.
“When you need something, you come to me and my team. You don’t go to your family or your friends. Not ever. You will never trust anyone but us. What happens within our family stays within our family. You can never mention what we do or what you do.” She tilted my chin up, so our stare deepened. “Your life is going to change, Tyler. But, I promise, it’s going to change for the better.”
I sensed that she knew how strained my relationship was with my family. That when I’d left Kansas, I’d left all of my friends behind and that Wynter was the only person in my life now.
I didn’t have much to give up.
I wasn’t worth more than a bunch of textbooks, a few outfits, and a bottle of cheap shampoo.
This woman was promising change.
Having more than two pairs of jeans would change my life. But I wanted more than that. More than the materialistic things. I wanted love. Acceptance. I wanted to feel like I belonged to something.
“I want in.”
She clasped her hand around my fingers, and I felt her nails on my skin. Their pointed tips. The roughness of the rhinestones. Then, the warmth of her smile traveled all the way down to my belly.
“Welcome to The Achurdy, baby.”
“The Achurdy?”
Her eyes gleamed. “Soon, we’ll explain everything to you. But, first, we’re going to celebrate.” She grabbed one of the bottles off the table, poured some vodka into two glasses, and added a few ice cubes. When she handed one to me, she clinked hers against it. “To a long, rich relationship, Tyler.”
I took a sip. It was so strong, it made my throat burn and my eyes water. “I still don’t know what I should call you.”
“Mina,” she said. “Call me Mina.”
Beard
Layla had taken me to look at four more companies. They would all be good investments, and I was sure I would see a return on them. They just didn’t interest me. I was looking for a rush. I didn’t get that from a strip club or guns or weed. I sure as hell didn’t get that from a manufacturing plant. Once we left the plant, Layla said she had one more business to show me before I headed back to Venezuela in the morning. To see it, I had to go to her condo. She gave me her address and told me to come over at eight.
Her building
was on South Beach. It was too far of a walk from where I was staying in downtown Miami, so I used one of those transportation apps and got dropped off right in front of her lobby. The doorman took my name and escorted me to the elevator, hitting the number six for me, like I wasn’t able to fucking read.
“Apartment six-twelve,” he said before the door shut.
When it slid open, I walked down the short hallway and knocked once I reached her number. The stripper answered it. Jesus, fuck, didn’t she look good. She was wearing a long silk robe that wasn’t tied, a set of black lace panties, and a matching bra.
“Beard,” she breathed.
Layla moved in behind her. Their bodies were pressed together, Layla’s hand resting just below the stripper’s tit. She looked down at the stripper’s neck and then back at me. “Beard is our guest. Invite him in, my love.”
“I’m being so rude,” the stripper said. She still didn’t move from blocking the doorway. “Beard, would you like to come in?” As the M from come hummed in her throat, she shaped her lips, as though they were puckering around my crown.
She wasn’t asking me if I wanted to come in. She was asking me if I wanted to come.
The answer to that was yes. It was always yes.
Layla slapped the stripper’s ass. “You’re so naughty,” she said to her. “Now, get inside, and pour us some drinks. Beard and I have business to discuss.”
“Mmm,” the stripper moaned, looking right at me. “I want more of that.”
I knew she was talking about Layla’s hand. But something told me she was also talking about me.
“I’m sorry about her,” Layla said once we were alone. “Please come in.”
I could tell a man didn’t live here. There was too much white and sparkles. Even the chandeliers fucking glimmered. And the place was too clean. There wasn’t even a drop of something dark on the floor.
It made me miss the prison.
And those delicious screams.
Layla took me right out to the balcony and slid the door closed behind us. It was a large deck that wrapped around the corner of the building, which gave a view of the beach and the city.
I moved over to the end and leaned against the banister. Layla joined me, her arms close to mine.
“I know you didn’t connect with anything that I showed you,” she said. “I just want you to know, I appreciate you not giving up on me.”
The salty air tasted just like home.
I’d rather be there than here, but home didn’t have the woman to my left. And she was way fucking sexier than the view of the beach and the city behind me.
So, she was what I admired instead. I checked out her long dress and her bare feet. She hardly had any makeup on. She had washed it off since getting back from our meetings. For two days, she’d been all business. This style looked better on her.
“We’ll find one that turns me on,” I said.
Before she was able to respond, the door opened, and the stripper walked out. She was carrying two glasses and gave us each one, immediately going back inside.
“I brought you here for a reason,” Layla said.
“I didn’t think it was to see your girlfriend’s tits again.”
She smiled, licking the inside of her lip that was now wet from taking a drink. “Do you see that building next door?” She used her glass to point and didn’t wait for me to respond. “It’s a hotel that was built in the forties, and it just sold. The new owner doesn’t like the bones of the building. So, he’s knocking it down and constructing a thirty floor, two-hundred-fifty-unit high-rise.”
With the spot being right next door, the views were the same—beach and city—and we were on the most popular street in South Beach. Layla could walk to the best bars and restaurants.
I liked everything she was telling me so far.
“Keep talking,” I said.
“The developer is looking for investors. He can fund it himself, but he doesn’t want to tie up that much cash. The percent he’s offering is high—higher than any of the businesses I’ve shown you.”
“Who’s the developer?”
“His name is Garnik Panig. He has buildings in Manhattan and LA. Now, Miami.”
“It sounds like the kind of business where he’d be working off a line of credit, not using investors who are looking to launder some cash. Why would someone that legit want to take such a risk?”
“Legit?” She dangled her drink off the edge of the banister, moving the glass so that the ice cubes banged against the sides. “This whole city runs on cash, Beard. It’s how the inspectors get paid, how half of the employees get paid, how the vendors import cheaper products. Transactions go on the books to keep the IRS off their backs, but a large portion doesn’t.”
It made sense. Illegal immigrants sure as hell couldn’t get a 1099. I guessed I hadn’t realized the construction industry was so corrupt.
“How long until they start demolishing?” I asked.
“He’s pulling the final permits now, so within the next few months. The buildout is scheduled to take about a year.”
“I want to see the breakdown of where the funds will be going, the points, the payments—everything.”
“Of course,” she said.
She had to know she was getting somewhere with me. These were the first and only demands I had made out of all the places she had shown me.
But being an investor wasn’t the only side I was interested in. The building was also a place I could live. During my last few visits here, I’d stayed in a hotel. Always the same one. It made it feel more like home that way. I’d planned on buying either a house or a condo. I just hadn’t met with a realtor yet. This could save me that meeting.
“I have another request.”
She was back to licking that lip with a pointed tongue and a slight flash of her teeth. I had to look away.
“Anything.”
I almost laughed at her offer. “I want one of the units. One on a high floor and on the corner, so I get both views.”
“I can make that happen.” She watched me as she swallowed from her glass. “We never discussed how much you want to invest. I want you to think about that number and then come up with a date that you can meet with Panig. When it’s time, I’ll draw up the paperwork. If you’re not here, I’ll have it shipped overnight to your other home.”
“I’ll text you when I plan to come back to Miami.”
She tilted her body toward me. “What about the paperwork?”
“I’ll come back here to sign it. I don’t want that kind of shit in the mail.”
And I didn’t want her having the address to the prison.
As guards, we followed three strict rules—no one besides the inmates and Bond were allowed inside the prison or our living quarters upstairs, nothing was sent to the building, and the address was never spoken out loud.
We didn’t break those rules. Ever. Because, when it came to the prison, we didn’t take risks.
“Do you think you’ll be back in a few days?” she asked.
“Closer to a few weeks.”
There was a flash of disappointment in her eyes. That was the first time I’d ever seen anything like that from her.
“Panig told me this afternoon that he’s finalizing his investor list. I’ll make sure he saves a spot for you.”
“Do that.”
We both turned in the direction of the sliding glass door, the stripper opening it and walking toward us again. She hadn’t put on any more clothes but now held a drink in her hand.
“Is it time to celebrate?” she asked. She wrapped her arm around Layla’s waist and held the glass to her lips.
I stepped back to give the girls more space.
“Beard likes what he’s seen so far,” Layla said. “As long as we can agree to a price and a set of terms, I think it’ll be a done deal.” She took her hair off one shoulder and moved it to the other. “Do you agree, Beard?”
“That sounds about right.”
Something told me Layla knew that.
And something told me Layla was all right with it.
“Are you up for some celebrating, Beard?” the stripper asked. Her hand was rubbing closer and closer to Layla’s pussy.
Layla’s eyes had turned hungry. Her lips parted. She was gripping the banister, staring at me like she was trying to urge something out of me.
But I still couldn’t get a read on her. I didn’t know if she enjoyed having my gaze on her, watching this—whatever this was about to turn into—or if she just wanted to please the stripper.
The answer mattered.
Because, normally, I’d stick around and see which woman sucked my dick harder, deciding on who would be getting it in their cunt or their ass. But money was involved—my money and a large chunk of it. Therefore, I couldn’t fuck things up between us.
I needed to get out of here.
“You did good tonight,” I said to Layla. “Real good.” I took a step toward the door. “I’ll text you when I come back to Miami.”
“Don’t leave,” the stripper said. “The fun hasn’t even begun.” She sucked one of the ice cubes out of her glass and ran it over Layla’s neck. “It’s so hot out here.” Drops trickled down Layla’s chest and disappeared between her tits. “I’m going to make her even hotter.”
Both women looked at me now.
I wanted to see what hotter looked like, especially on Layla.
The stripper wanted me here; that was obvious. But Layla still hadn’t said a word.
In case she was looking for an out, I needed to give her one.
“Layla,” I said, “tell me if you want me to leave.”
Layla’s back slightly arched, giving the stripper more access to her body. Then, she slowly reached up and brought the stripper’s hand down, so the ice pressed against her nipple. Once it touched her, she moaned.