“No! Listen to me, dammit. Let me talk!” she screamed.
Step four: anger.
This step was irrelevant but necessary, I guess.
What did they have to be angry about?
They were the one technically fucking around. Sure, their boyfriend, fiancé, or husband paid for that service, but they weren’t aware of that.
“Don’t walk away from me!” she cried.
My socks warmed my feet before I pulled on my boots and began to tie them. It wouldn’t be long before it would be time for me to go. I was waiting for the moment Jonathan said the magic words.
And then, he did.
“I want a divorce. I can’t be with you anymore, Heather. You broke my heart.”
Standing, I stretched my back and cracked my neck.
My job was done.
She stood there, mascara rushing over her flushed cheeks as she began to bawl. I thought for sure she would fight him—try to salvage a marriage he had no intention of being in anymore—but instead, she nodded her head and wiped at her wet cheeks.
“I’ll be out by this weekend.”
Checkmate.
Step five: acceptance.
And just like that, I was fifty thousand dollars richer.
Damn, I loved my job.
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VANILLA & VICE
My sick obsession with domination and sex had become an addiction, and I was no longer willing to be a slave to it. Now, I’m six months sex free, and I haven’t tied a woman up in five.
I’ve never felt more powerful in my life.
Then Eden Vaughn got a job at Empire Sevens and turned my newfound control on its head.
She makes me feel weak—testing my restraint—silently begging me to show her how deep my addiction runs. I can’t have her sort of temptation in my casino, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get her to quit.
I’m into all things dark and filthy, but innocence is my kryptonite. She’s virtuous and vanilla, and vanilla is my VICE.
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