by Kelly Favor
“Greg, you look like someone maybe put a scare into you. Was it Chase?” she asked, hoping against hope that it wasn’t. Of course, she couldn’t imagine how he would’ve had time to find Greg and beat him up, since she’d only left Chase’s place in Beacon Hill a couple of hours ago.
But anything was possible.
“Chase Winters?” Greg said. He laughed. “No, it wasn’t him.”
“Oh, good,” she sighed, relieved.
“I think it was friend of his,” Greg replied. “Max something or other. From some Club.”
Faith felt a chill pass through her body. “Club Alpha?” she said.
“That’s the one,” Greg laughed, standing up. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and went to the window. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Uh…” she didn’t really want him to, but felt bad for him. “Sure.”
He slid the window up and glanced outside, before lighting his cigarette. “I haven’t smoked in like five years. Quit awhile back. Seems like a good time to pick it back up again.”
“I’m sorry for whatever happened to you,” she said, watching him as he took a long drag. “But I had nothing to do with it,” Faith added.
Greg glanced at her. “Never said you did.”
“So no need to apologize to me or hire me back.”
Now he turned to face her, the cigarette dangling from his lip as he spoke. “You need to come back to work,” he said. “Otherwise they’ll hurt me. Bad.”
“They said that?”
He grabbed the cigarette from his mouth and looked at it as if it had answers. “That dude, Max. He’s a big, mean fucker. Slapped me around, tossed me into a wall outside our building—laughed at me when I screamed.”
“Jesus,” Faith whispered, her jaw clenching with fear.
“He said that they were aware of how I treated you and it wasn’t going to be tolerated. He said I was to come here and apologize immediately, and to give you a raise and a promotion.”
“A promotion?”
“That’s what he said and it’s what I’m going to do, Faith.” Greg shook his head in disbelief, took another long drag from the cigarette and his shoulders relaxed. “Your new boyfriend is very powerful and he’s got some big guns on his side. I don’t need this shit, okay?”
She realized that Greg was petrified. Truly petrified.
“Okay,” she said. “Calm down.”
He looked over at her, his face creased with lines of worry. “So you accept my apology? You’ll come back to work?”
“Sure,” she said, not even knowing why she was agreeing. The whole thing seemed crazy, but she just felt terrible for Greg. As badly as he’d treated her, she didn’t want to see him hurt.
He straightened up, smiling a little. “Thanks,” he said. “You’ll get an office, too,” he told her. “You know, I was always too hard on you. I was being a prick about things between us. Guess I should’ve known you’d wait around until you landed a big fish like Chase Winters.” He puffed on his cigarette and then tossed it out the window.
“You sure you’re okay, Greg?” she asked, as he started towards the door.
“Yeah,” he said, not really looking at her. He was shambling, perhaps limping, she decided, as he went past. Suddenly, he swung towards her, putting his hand in his jacket pocket and removing a plain white envelope. “Oh, I almost forgot. That guy, Max, he told me to give this to you.”
He extended his hand with the envelope in it, and Faith just stared, as if he was offering her something poisonous. “What’s in it?”
“I have no clue. Didn’t ask, don’t want to know. I’m just doing what the guy told me to, Faith. Here, will you please take it?”
She saw that his hand was trembling as she took the envelope and then Greg was limping for the door. “See you tomorrow,” he said, and then he left, shutting the apartment door behind him.
“Bye,” she muttered, staring down at the plain white envelope. Faith decided she’d never seen something so normal, so decidedly plain—take on such an evil, malevolent aura as this envelope had. She turned it over and over in her hands. There was nothing on the outside—no address, no name, nothing.
It was sealed firmly shut and even holding it up to the light didn’t show what was inside.
Finally, she set it down on the table and stared at it, her arms folded.
Soon, her cell was ringing.
Don’t answer it, she told herself. You have to just ignore them. Don’t empower them.
But Faith knew they weren’t going to forget about her just because she didn’t answer her cell phone. Finally, she picked up. “Yes,” she said.
“Hi,” the voice said. “It’s Max again.”
“I wish you’d leave me alone.”
“I intend to,” he said. “Did our friend Greg give you the apology you deserved?”
“Leave me alone. You don’t know me. And I don’t appreciate you beating up people and threatening them on my behalf. I want nothing to do with you or your sleazy company.” Her voice didn’t shake as she said the words, which Faith was slightly proud to note.
“That’s fine, sweetheart. I didn’t do it for you. It’s just business. Did you see what’s in the envelope?”
“No,” she admitted. “I don’t want it.”
“But you don’t even know what it is,” Max said, his deep voice dripping with humor and dark intent.
Faith stared at the envelope. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. Chase and I aren’t together. So whatever arrangement you have with him—that’s between you guys. It’s got nothing to do with me.”
“Well, that’s not exactly true,” Max said. “You see, Chase did call me and let me know that he wanted you let out of your contract. He feels badly about what happened.”
“I don’t really care,” she said, as her hand sweated against the cell phone.
“Be that as it may,” Max continued, “Chase is our client and his happiness is very important to us. That’s our job—keeping him happy. So when he tells us that you and he are no longer an item and that you’re very upset, it’s my job to come in and set things right.”
“I don’t see how my personal life is any of your business.”
Max was quiet for a long moment. “Soon you’re going to find out that it is part of my business. I’m in the business of managing things for my clients, making sure they have what they need. And what Chase Winters needs right now—is you.”
She felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. “Please leave me alone.”
“You saw what I did to your boss, Greg. Right?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“So you know I’m not fucking around. You signed contracts, Faith. And more than that, you’re someone that Chase Winters cares about. Which means that I care about you, too.”
“What if I tell Chase you’re threatening me?” she said, her voice rising.
“I wouldn’t advise that,” Max said. “If you get Chase worked up, then I gotta go and tell my boss and then he gets really, really worked up. And then I can’t control what happens next.”
Faith felt a new wave of icy chills running through her body. She couldn’t believe this was truly happening. “I wish you’d leave me alone,” she said again.
“I will,” he told her. “But first I need to make sure you get the full picture, sweetheart.”
Faith’s mouth went dry. She hated to admit that she was frightened, but she was.
After all, Chase’s agent had set him up with this company in the first place. They were obviously big, and powerful and connected. She was broke, powerless, and scared.
And they knew it.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” she said, finally.
“I want a little cooperation,” Max told her. “We got you your stupid little job back, since apparently you were upset about losing it. And if you look inside your envelope, we did another thing too—just to show we’re not all bad. Now open it, Faith.”
His command was too forceful to ignore, so Faith picked up the plain white envelope and tore it open. Inside was a cashier’s check made out to her name, in the amount of ten thousand dollars.
She felt weak and sat down, her legs shaking, her eyeballs twitching. “You can’t be serious,” she gasped.
“I am,” Max laughed. “I’m very serious. That check is just a little symbol of our goodwill,” he said. “We want you to be happy. We want Chase to stay happy. Now, what goes on between two people—that’s your business, sweetheart. We don’t tell you what to do in the privacy of your home or bedroom.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered, still staring at the check.
Ten thousand dollars. It was the biggest check she’d ever seen or held in her hands. And it was for her.
“Truth is, we just want our clients to feel comfortable, to know we’re taking care of things. Now, you’ve got to love Chase Winters. He’s a great guy, a hunk, an athlete. You can’t seriously try and tell me you turn your nose up at Chase Winters, doll.”
“Don’t call me doll or sweetheart.”
“There’s worse things I could call you,” he said, his voice edgy again.
“I like Chase, but I don’t trust him. Especially not now.”
“You don’t worry about trust,” Max said. “Trust is for airheads—trust is for suckers,” he continued. “We got contracts and we got lawyers and we got money. You just understand that this is a very sweet deal for a gal like yourself. Go have fun with the big football star, have a party, let loose and keep the guy happy. He’s got a lot of stress and he needs you right now.”
“Sure,” she said, her voice sounding empty to her own ears. “Whatever you say.”
“Have a little faith,” Max said, chuckling at his own pun.
“Can I go now?” she asked.
“Don’t try and go back on the deal,” Max said. “I’m showing you the carrot,” he continued. “Please don’t make me show you the stick.”
And then he’d hung up and she was left alone with nothing but a dead phone and a check for ten thousand dollars.
Faith wanted to call Chase Winters and scream at him—curse him for bringing Club Alpha, whatever that was, into her life.
But she resisted the urge.
Chase was dangerous, and not in the cute, sexy way. No, Chase was dangerous in the way that heroin was dangerous, or jumping off a bridge, or drinking strychnine.
She wanted to hear his voice as much as she wanted to hurt him, viciously tear him apart so that he could feel what she was feeling.
Still, Faith knew better than to act on her emotions. Instead, she took the check and slid it in the middle of an old issue of Vogue, which she then placed on the top shelf of her bookshelf, amidst the piles of other magazines, books, and some old newspapers she’d saved because they contained a little article she’d once published.
The ten thousand dollar check was something she didn’t want to have to look at for very long, because the temptation was too great to cash it and use it.
She had plenty of bills, not to mention what it could do for Krissi if Faith decided to part with some of that cash. Maybe help pay for a semester of her sister’s future tuition, books, or any number of things.
But although the temptation was great, Faith understood that the money was dirty. It amounted to accepting cash for sleeping with Chase, and she couldn’t do that, even if Chase himself approved of it.
In fact, thinking about Chase intentionally steering her into this contract and deal with Club Alpha made her sick. He knew that sleeping with her was a business transaction, and he liked it that way.
What kind of a person did that kind of thing?
Faith knew the answer: a bad one. A very, very bad one.
Chase had warned her as much but she hadn’t wanted to listen, hadn’t wanted to believe it about him. She’d been taken in by his sexy bad boy charm, the glamor of his occupation, and his manipulation of her physical and emotional attraction.
She’d been an easy mark, but no more.
No more.
She was putting herself on a Chase Winters fast—which meant no more listening to sports radio, no more watching ESPN, no more reading Sports Illustrated or the sports section of the Herald, The Globe, or having Chase’s name as a Google Alert on her laptop.
All of that was over with. From this day forward, she would pretend that she’d never met the man.
And Club Alpha?
What about them?
She knew that they’d tried to twist her arm a little with the scary phone call, slapping Greg around, and the check.
But Faith believed that they were full of hot air. Once Chase Winters moved on to a new girl, they would forget about her. Especially if she never cashed that check, never took any of their money.
If she used their money she would be in their debt, she would owe them. It would imply her agreement to that contact she’d stupidly signed.
But she wouldn’t ever cash that check.
Why don’t you just rip it up then?
The question hung in her mind, and she didn’t even want to think about the answer. She didn’t want to consider her reasons for placing the check in that magazine, within reach, just sitting in wait for her to grow weak and pull it out again.
No, she was simply going to ignore the check, and ignore Club Alpha until they left her alone—and the same with Chase Winters. Although it would be difficult, Faith intended to stick to it at all costs.
It wasn’t just about her pride anymore. As she drifted off to a restless sleep that night, she kept thinking that this had become about her very soul, her own belief that she was worth more than this.
The hard truth was that she wanted to take that money, and she wanted to spend it on things she needed.
And beyond that, she wanted to fuck Chase Winters, she wanted his mouth on her, sucking her pussy, tasting her, and then his cock inside her, burying himself deep between her aching thighs.
Yes, she wanted all of those things, and that was why it had become so vital to resist all of it.
Chase Winters was going to destroy her life if she wasn’t careful.
Please, she thought. Please someone make me stronger than I am. Because I don’t know if I can do this.
Life was getting very, very weird. Even weirder than before, if such a thing was possible.
Going back to work was strange, because suddenly she’d been promoted. Greg handed her the paperwork the moment he saw her coming into the office the next morning.
“Congratulations,” he said, as he passed her the thick ream of contracts, forms and booklets. “You’re no longer a temp,” he said. “You’re fulltime with us.” His smile was not even remotely genuine, and he looked tired and haggard, as if he’d slept even worse than she had.
“Thanks, Greg,” Faith replied, and he gestured for her to follow him down the hallway, where he opened the door and hit the lights. They flickered on, illuminating a tidy, neat office with a window that looked out on the back parking lot.
“This is your new home,” he said, scratching his head. “You like?”
“I do,” she smiled, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “It’s a lot to take in, but it’s very nice.”
“Cool,” Greg said, and then his voice lowered. “Maybe you could…y’know…mention that to Chase or Max next time you talk to them.”
“Wait. What?” she asked, her heart fluttering at the mention of their names.
Greg cleared his throat. “I’m just saying—I want to make sure you’re really well taken care of here, Faith. And if you are, it would be cool if you let them know.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she told him, her voice cold even as her insides quaked.
“No offense,” he said, backing out. “Just…just take your time with filling that stuff out, Faith. No rush. I’ll see you later, okay?”
She didn’t even bother answering him. He had basically fled the s
cene and now the hallway outside her door was empty.
Faith sat down heavily in her new office chair, staring at nothing, seeing nothing. Her mind was going a thousand miles a second.
You got this promotion because of them. How can you think that they’re not going to expect something in return? Do you really believe anything’s over, Faith?
She could hardly stand to look at the binder with all the materials in it, welcoming her to fulltime employment. And to think, Faith had been wishing so long for a more stable job environment, with better pay, full benefits, and a boss who didn’t hate her guts or give her a hard time constantly.
Now she’d somehow gotten everything she wanted, and it didn’t mean anything. In fact, it disgusted her.
You got in bed with the devil, Faith.
The thoughts made her squirm, especially since she immediately pictured Chase’s eyes, that cocky grin, and she instantly felt desire rise up and nearly overwhelm her.
She was tempted, and not for the first time or even the hundredth time, to just call him and tell him how hurt and frightened she was about Club Alpha and what he’d done to her.
But Faith knew she couldn’t do it. If she folded now, she’d lose all of her willpower, her ability to resist him was already so fragile. The thought of his body, his lips, his tongue, his cock—it was worse than a drug.
Not only that, but Faith missed his personality, his mind, his smile and those eyes that seemed to look into her, through to her very soul.
That he was bad news only seemed to make it harder, not easier to stay away.
After some time, the frantic urge to contact Chase Winters passed, and she was left with nothing but a dull ache of need that Faith simply accepted as a new part of her existence.
That dull ache was not going anywhere.
That dull ache was just the price she had to pay for doing the right thing—it was the reminder that she still had morals, a conscience, and integrity. And it reminded her that having those things hurt.
So Faith went back to work, and went about her day, knowing that she simply had to put her head down and tread forward, inch by painful inch.
Days passed, each one seemingly slower than the last.
Faith didn’t know how she was getting through the hours, but somehow, she managed.