by Logan Fox
“I’m fine.” Pearl snatched up the corset and bundled it against her chest as she spun back to him. “Perfectly fucking fine.” She made sure to enunciate every single syllable for him over the music.
His hands reached for her, but she sidestepped him.
“Was that all, Sir?” she asked.
Those hands dropped to his side, and he fell back onto the couch, his dick bouncing once before he could trap it inside his pants. He’d tugged his mask straight, but she could still see the faint concern painted over his eyes, his gaze searching her.
“I guess,” he mumbled.
Pearl realized the music had died down. She gave him a sharp nod that almost dislocated the tears threatening to spill over her lids. When had those arrived?
“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Sir.”
She stumbled through a gap in the couches surrounding the stage and shoved open the door. The passage outside was cool compared with the room inside — or perhaps her sweat had just begun to grow cold. Her trembling fingers latched onto the bathroom’s handle. She tugged at it, but it refused to open.
“Seriously?” she cried out, her voice shaking. A tear flashed down her cheek as she hurried out into the hall.
She spun to the right, heading for the fox den. There was a bathroom. Her bed. A duvet to curl under and die.
“Hey!” a voice called out behind her.
Pearl spun around, staring in shock at Ethan, the new handler. He stood a few meters away, a file in one hand, the other raised to knock on Caden’s office door.
She managed a grating, “My fuck,” before stumbling down the hall.
“Hey! Are you all right?” She heard footfalls behind her and tried speeding up. Tears blurred her vision as she took the stairs, one hand still gripping the corset to her naked breasts, the other flailing in empty air for the hand railing.
Her ankles wobbled under her.
Pearl pitched forward, voice strangling around a scream.
A hand caught her arm, another her waist. Her fall stopped as she was jerked backward. She landed in Ethan’s lap, her arms thrown wide as she tried grabbing onto something, anything.
They found Ethan.
Found him and held on.
13
Ghosts & Cherry Blossoms
Men talked above her. Ethan’s chest rumbled under her ear as he discussed something in soft murmurs. The new handler had pressed a hand to her head — intentionally or unintentionally covering her ear — and was rocking her gently. Someone had draped a thick, black blanket over her, and its warmth enveloped her.
Pearl sobbed. Great, racking sobs. Each leaving her gasping for breath.
He’d tried asking her questions, to find out if she was okay. What had happened. Why she was running half-naked through the halls. But by then it had been too late: the deluge had torn away her defenses, leaving her stranded on an island while all around her, a tempest boiled. All she could do was wait it out and hope that she wasn’t dragged into an undercurrent before it calmed.
And that she wouldn’t drown.
“Pearl?”
A familiar voice. Not familiar like Greg’s; familiar like Seth’s. A large, cool hand on the back of her neck.
“Can you walk?”
She tightened her grip on the man whose lap she sat in, the one who’d cradled her to his breast like she’d been a child with a boo-boo.
“I don’t think she—” began the rumbles beneath her.
“Not up to you,” Seth said, his voice grating in warning. The hand on her neck tightened — not painfully, but insistently.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Seth said.
Pearl turned her face away and buried it into Ethan’s neck. She didn’t want Seth. She didn’t want to see the disappointment in those black eyes that she knew would be there.
He believed in her. He’d told her she was amazing, and beautiful, and sexy.
But she wasn’t.
She was a whore. A whore who’d just angry-fucked a guy who’d come looking for her to make sure she was okay.
“Look, buddy, she obviously—”
Seth released her neck. She instantly missed the touch but was just as grateful that it was gone.
“I want her back in an hour. Clean and sane. You know how it works, don’t you? That’s why they hired you, right? So get it done.”
Seth’s footsteps thudded away.
Pearl sniffed and tried to release Ethan, but her hands didn’t want to obey her brain. They didn’t trust her anymore, not with everything she’d forced them to do. They were boycotting her, and they were probably going to form a union with her legs and arms too.
“I’m gonna pick you up, all right?” came the rumble.
She could at least force a nod, albeit a small one.
The man stood, his arms gripping her upper back and slipping under her knees. He turned around, adjusting his grip as he took her down the hallway.
Pearl wanted to ask where he was taking her, but her throat felt raw from crying. So she closed her eyes and tried not to keep track of the twists and turns Ethan took her down, tried to stop the thumping in her head. Tried — desperately — not to replay her session with Greg.
Warm air stroked her cheeks. Bright light warmed the top of her hair.
She blinked, extracting her head from a fold of blanket as Ethan set her down on something soft. They were in a small alcove three stories above ground level. Here, bay windows extruded from the wall and plush window seats lined them. There were no curtains on the windows and the pristine glass sheets disguised nothing of the vista beyond.
Pearl shifted, pressing a hand to the window. The glass was cool and smooth under her fingers.
Mountains in the far distance, gray-green and dusted with snow. An endless blue sky with a blazing orb high in the sky. Was it already that close to midday?
This room faced the back of the property: she could see the outline of the labyrinth. It was complex and wide; its hedge-passages so narrow she couldn’t see more than a few feet into them. The center was a perfect square, and the firepit an empty, staring eye. So large, that eye.
Her body heat buffeted up through a gap in the blanket, carrying with it the scent of sex. She tugged at the folds until the draft cut off, and blinked rapidly to clear a fresh batch of tears.
“Wonder how much Stark paid for this place,” Ethan murmured.
Pearl spun to face him. She’d almost forgotten he was there. He sat opposite her with several feet of pale tiles between them. He’d also turned to the view. Ethan shook his head, his eyes flickering as he took in the stables, the fields, the labyrinth. He glanced at her, starting when he saw she was looking at him. She gave him a faint smile and drew the blanket tighter around her.
“Sorry about—” she began.
Ethan lifted a hand. “Good timing is all.” He shook his head again, lime-green eyes turning serious. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Pearl hurriedly shook her head. Hot tears threatened at the thought and her chest tightened in anticipation.
“All right.” He turned back to the labyrinth. “Shit, that thing looks fucking complicated.”
Pearl shifted inside the blanket and rested her head against the windowpane.
“I’ve been inside.” Her voice sounded thick and flat in her ears and she shuddered.
She’d done her fair share of crying over the years, but this had been the worst. She’d never experienced such limb-numbing sobs where, had the walls started tumbling in and the ground had started shaking, she wouldn’t have been able to pull herself to safety. Wouldn’t have wanted to pull herself to safety. Perhaps… she might even have welcomed that escape.
“By yourself?” Ethan asked.
She managed a smile at the concern in Ethan’s voice. “No. With Gia. And Seth.” Her voice stumbled over the handler’s name as it brought with it the memory of him staring at her reflection and calling her kitten.
She squeezed her eyes closed and swallowed, t
ugging at the blankets.
“When did you get here?” Ethan asked quietly.
“Sunday.”
“What were you doing before—” there was the briefest hesitation “—before this?”
“Dancer.” Pearl shrugged. “Stripper.”
“I get it.”
She saw Ethan shift from the corner of her eye and turned to him, resting her temple against the cool glass.
“You?” she asked, studying him as he replied.
Judging from the concentration of wrinkles around his green eyes, he was in his late thirties.
He still wore his suit and tie, the shirt beneath creased. She could see the suggestion of a tattoo where his lapels splayed open, but it looked faded. What was it with these people and their tattoos?
“Club manager.” Then he shrugged. “Strip club.”
Pearl let out a short huff of a laugh. “Is that how you met Caden?”
“No. Why?”
“He also ran a club. Then owned some, apparently,” Pearl said, snorting to herself. While indulging in lap dances from new strippers to test their mettle. What grade had Caden given her for her performance last night: an A for effort?
“Didn’t mention anything to me.” Ethan was frowning now, his eyes still fixed to the distant labyrinth.
“Which club?”
“Sorry?” Ethan turned to her.
“The club you worked at?”
“Doubt you’d have heard of it. It was—”
“Underground? On the down-low? Top-secret?” Pearl gave him a small smile when his frown deepened. “Sorry. I’m badly in need of a different state of mind right now.”
“I have cigarettes,” Ethan said, reaching for a pocket.
“Yeah…” Pearl shook her head. “I don’t smoke that shit. But thanks anyway.”
Ethan shrugged and glanced around. “Probably shouldn’t smoke in here, hey?”
“Who knows the mind of a billionaire, right?” Pearl muttered. “So, which club?”
“Red Box.”
Pearl scrunched up her nose. “The one in Brooklyn?”
Ethan’s eyes widened. “You know it?”
“A girl that worked there came to work at the club. My club. The Doll House in New York.”
The man drew out a packet of cigarettes, shook one out of the carton, and lit it — squinting an eye as the smoke curled over his face.
“What was her name?”
“Missy. Stage name, obviously. Never found out her real one. She was only there for a week or two. Said the Red Box was nice, but the tips sucked.”
Ethan shrugged. “Probably wasn’t a good dancer, then.”
Pearl frowned at him, tugging the blanket tighter.
“It wasn’t the tips. The club took a cut of everything she earned. Not just a cut — they took pretty much everything and left her a slice.”
Ethan shifted on the window seat, tugging at his cigarette before answering Pearl. Acrid smoke filled the air between them, more piling from Ethan’s mouth as he spoke.
“It sucks, I know. But what are you going to do? Either you work there and put up with their shit — earn an income — or you find a job someplace else.”
“I guess,” Pearl said. “So you didn’t know her?”
“I wasn’t there for long. Didn’t really have time to make buddies.” Ethan shrugged and concentrated on his cigarette, tipping the cherry toward him to study its embers.
Buddies? Pearl suppressed a snort. She couldn’t see this guy lasting long as a club manager. Firstly, he wasn’t scummy enough. Sure, there were clubs where the owners were decent, but most of the managers weren’t. They considered free ass a perk of the job. Luckily, the Doll House’s manager was a married man who seemed only interested in earning a paycheck, and not tasting the wares. Then again, even he used to dip his pen into the club’s ink, herpes or no.
Ethan, though… she studied him through her lashes, watching as he smoked his cigarette and stomped the ash into fine powder against the tiles with the heel of his oxfords. He smoked like he’d been smoking for years — perhaps longer than he’d had the faded tattoo on his chest.
“What made you quit?” Pearl asked.
Ethan jerked, unintentionally ashing on the floor. He shrugged and ran a hand through his dark hair.
“Wanted a change. Something more hands-on.” He grimaced. “Not… you know… actually ‘hands-on,’” he made an awkward gesture with his hands like he was gripping something.
Pearl laughed. His mouth tugged to the side in a self-effacing smile and he shrugged again.
“I don’t quite know, actually. Thought it would be interesting. And you?”
She took a deep breath and sat forward a little. The air in the alcove wasn’t cold, but she’d wrapped the blanket awkwardly around her and there were too many gaps in her cover for comfort.
“The money.”
Ethan nodded slowly at her and killed his cigarette under his heel. He levered open one of the windows and hesitated before tossing the butt outside.
“Ready to go back?” Ethan asked. “It’s just, I have to get—”
“Yup,” Pearl cut in, standing.
She started forward and then hesitated.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know how we got here.”
“I’ll take you back,” Ethan said, stepping ahead of her.
“No, I’m fine. Just…” she gestured down the hall. “Rough directions should be fine.”
Ethan’s eyes left hers then, flashing down her body.
“You really think you should be—”
“I’m fine,” Pearl snapped, immediately pressing her lips closed. “I’m fine.” This time, she spoke calmly. “Just… tell me where I’m going.”
Ethan gestured with a flat hand to the right-hand section of hallway.
“Down the hall. Take the stairs down one flight. Cut across the hall and then down another two flights of stair. Take a left and you’ll be in the library. From there—”
“Got it.” Pearl swept past him, her face still stony.
She paused, letting out a short, sharp breath through her nose before turning back to him. He was staring after her, a deep frown creasing his brow.
“Thank you,” she said.
His frown vanished, and he gave her a soft smile. That smile did things to his eyes — made them sparkle and dance — and she smiled in response.
“Good timing, is all.”
Pearl followed Ethan’s directions, trotting down the stairs and then cutting through the hall below. For a moment, it looked familiar, but she shook away the feeling. It was quiet here — as quiet as it had been in the alcove — as if the villa was sleeping.
Or as if all the rooms were sound-proofed.
She shook her head at the thought.
Paranoia.
Her bare feet sank into thick carpeting as she padded down the hallway. The view outside the row of windows was breathtaking and her eyes kept returning to it.
Which was why she didn’t see the door opening further down the hall. And which was why, when Tanner stepped out of the room, she didn’t slow down or even acknowledge him.
“Have you lost your way?” Tanner’s voice made her start, and she swung forward to face the man standing a few feet away from her.
“Uh… no… I was—”
Tanner’s eyes swept over her blanket, her bare feet, her tousled hair. Then he smiled.
“Earning your keep, I see,” he said.
Her cheeks began to flame, but before she could open her mouth to spit out a retort, Tanner gave her a two-fingered salute.
“See you later, baby girl.” His wide, carefree smile froze her where she stood.
The owner of the Fox Pit walked past her, his eyes sliding away to fix on his destination. Air swirled around her in his wake, scented with vanilla and rum. Pearl tried to force herself not to look back, not to watch him walk, but she failed.
Her head swiveled around in time to
see Tanner move his head a fraction of an inch, his gray eyes glancing back at her, a tiny smile touching his mouth.
Pearl’s lips curled. Who the hell did he think he was: God’s gift to women?
She strode down the hall, her eyes narrowed and her lips squeezed tight.
A hundred thousand dollars didn’t seem enough anymore.
When Pearl arrived back at the fox den, Gia and Morgan were on the couch with bowls of food in their laps. Pearl’s stomach immediately began complaining at the decadent smells still lingering in the air.
“Heya,” Gia called out, setting her bowl aside. “How was it?”
Pearl came to an abrupt halt, blinking at the girl. Morgan was still eating, but her eyes had swiveled to Pearl and she watched her with owlish intensity.
“How was it?” Pearl repeated in a strangled voice.
“Yeah.” Gia threw her arms over the back of the couch and rested her head on her cupped hands. “Did you like it? Was it a wolf or a dragon? What did he make you do?”
Was she still stoned? Or was ‘babble’ her normal conversational setting?
“It was…” Pearl took a breath, her words trailing away. “Bearable.”
Gia frowned. “That it? That all the info you got?”
“I fucked him. He liked it. I didn’t. What else do you want to know?” Pearl stormed into her room and slammed the door shut behind her, wincing.
It wasn’t Gia’s fault she was here. It wasn’t Gia’s fault she’d done what she’d done. She wanted to blame Greg, but was it really his fault that she’d flown off the handle like that?
Pearl felt tears pricking at her lids again and forced them down with an iron will. She had to take a shower. Get clean clothes. Blow dry her hair into some semblance of order. Perhaps even dish up a bowl of whatever the girls were having.
Oh, wait: she had dinner plans. Wouldn’t do to spoil her appetite, would it?
Fuck.
Pearl shook her head and took out clean clothes for herself. When she walked through the living room, neither girl looked in her direction. The television was on some or other reality show, and they both seemed completely engrossed in it.