Sell My Soul (A Sixty Days Novel Book 1)

by Jade West

  “Sir, please,” she whispered, but I ignored her. I turned my back and stepped away from the table, caring nothing for how she panicked and jumped to her feet.

  “Fucking hell, Rebecca, sit down!” her sister snapped, and I smirked to myself as I headed out of there.

  There was no fucking way Rebecca Lane would sit back down. Not now.

  “Sir, please!” she cried. “Please, sir, don’t leave!”

  “Rebecca!” her sister snapped again, and my smirk widened.

  “Sir, please!”

  I didn’t even raise my hand in acknowledgement before I stepped out onto the main pier walkway.

  I knew what was coming before I heard it, but the pleasure never grew old.

  “Please, sir!” she screamed as I walked away. “Please, sir, I’ll do anything you want, I swear!”

  Another pause and this time I closed my eyes to savour the moment.

  “Please, sir!” she screamed again. And this time her voice was beautifully fucking raw. “Please, sir, don’t leave me! I love you!”

  If only I believed love fucking existed, I may well have believed her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Paige

  I didn’t know what to do. What to think. How to be.

  I stared at Rebecca Lane as she called after him, at a loss as to how things had arrived at this point from what should have been a friends’ donut meeting.

  This couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t have been caught red-handed digging for stories about him. Because it was obvious what my intentions were. A coincidental meet-up surely didn’t cut it. Not a hope in hell.

  “Rebecca, what the fuck?!” Carolyn asked, and her face was a picture of exasperation.

  Her sister shook her head but didn’t say a word. She was shivering so hard I could see it from across the table, still staring down the pier after him when he was long out of sight.

  “You can’t be fucking serious!” Carolyn continued. “That isn’t love. He’s a freak. A sadistic piece of shit. A… a…”

  Instead of finishing she reached across the table and grabbed Rebecca’s cocktail. She downed it in one and slammed the empty glass on the table.

  I felt it right the way through me. Her concern.

  I knew all about sisterly worry and how it snaked in your stomach so bad it made you vomit.

  “It is love,” Rebecca said, turning to us with a face like death. She dropped into the seat he’d left empty, slumping down like he’d taken her spine with him. She was nothing but a mass of deflated limbs as she fought back the tears.

  I didn’t know what to say, so I kept quiet, spinning my own drink as I fought back my own crazy stress levels.

  He hadn’t acknowledged me. Not even a word. Just a freezing cold stare that had conveyed plenty enough about his thoughts on finding me there.

  I could have been sick. The thought of the sixty-day lifeline slipping away from me was enough to set the world spinning.

  “Oh fuck,” Rebecca muttered, and put her face in her hands. “I’m so messed up. This is so messed up. I need him so fucking bad.”

  Need.

  I felt that too.

  I needed him so fucking bad. Worse than bad.

  Just as bad as my sister needed me.

  “You need to forget about the absolute prick,” Carolyn said, and it was clear this wasn’t a new conversation for them. “You’re done with him. Finished. Pay for therapy. Pay for a holiday. Pay for anything you need to get that piece of shit out of your head for good.”

  I was still reeling hard from the sight of him, just for those crazy few minutes, so fuck knows how Rebecca was feeling.

  The decent overhead lighting had proved him every bit as perfect as the dull streetlights had alluded to. Chiselled and sculpted and dressed immaculately.

  His jawline was hard, his cheekbones were high. His eyes were dark and deep enough to suck your soul right out of you.

  His hand in her hair had given me shudders. Strong and brutal and possessive enough that I’d wished it was me on my knees in front of him. Owned by the man who demanded everything.

  Yep. Rebecca and I were clearly fucked up in the same vein.

  “What’s his name?” I asked without thinking.

  Rebecca shook her head. “I can’t… he said not to talk…”

  “She hasn’t even told me his name,” Carolyn said. “Just as well, since I’d have probably called the fucking police already.”

  “Calling the police wouldn’t do shit,” Rebecca said. “His contacts are insanely powerful. It would never get anywhere.” She sighed. “Not that I’d ever testify in a million years if it did. He’d take everything from me long before that.” Another sigh. “Not that I’d even want to.”

  “You can’t seriously think he’d be able to take his money back from you?” Carolyn countered.

  “He’d be able to take whatever he wanted however he wanted,” Rebecca said. “Like I said. His contacts are insanely powerful. He knew we were here, didn’t he? He knows everything.”

  My senses prickled. “How do you think he knew we were here?”

  Rebecca shrugged. “It wasn’t from me. Carolyn asked me in person in her bedroom.” Her eyes met mine. “Which means it must have been through you.”

  “Through me?!”

  She looked around us, twisting herself to do a full 360. “Has he been watching you already? When does your time with him start?”

  “I don’t know…” I told her. “He said he’d let me know…”

  “Have you been using your phone?” she asked. “Talking about him?”

  “No…” I said, then remembered the texts to Carolyn. “Not about him, but about tonight, sure. About the donuts…”

  Her smile was hazy. “He’ll know all about you. Believe me. Nothing is sacred. Not your phone, not your medical records, not anything. Whatever he wants, he takes. Body, soul, mind, whatever. He probably knows your entire life history by now.”

  “He didn’t say a word,” I said. “Didn’t even acknowledge me. For all I know the sixty days aren’t even on the cards anymore.”

  “Good!” Carolyn exclaimed. “Great news if they’re not. You’ll have a lucky escape!”

  But it wouldn’t be a lucky escape. Not for me.

  I was chilled all over. Heart pounding. Mouth dry with worry even after another sip of cocktail.

  I wondered if he was still on the beachfront. If I could catch up with him at a sprint and beg him to still take me.

  “Jesus Christ above,” Carolyn said. “I can’t believe you’re both actually into this fucked up guy. What the holy fuck?”

  Was it that obvious?

  My cheeks burned afresh under my makeup.

  “I just… it’s the opportunity,” I lied, and she laughed a horrible laugh.

  “Like hell it is. You’re both batshit crazy about him. I just don’t fucking get it.”

  I didn’t believe her that she didn’t get it. The guy was gorgeous enough to spin the world off its axis, her included. She shifted in her seat. As confused under the rage as the rest of us by the power of his presence.

  I’m sure even the goddamn waiter would have bowed down at his command.

  “We shouldn’t stay here,” Rebecca whispered. “He’ll be watching, or someone else will be. I don’t want to make him any more angry with me than he already is.”

  Another shiver down my spine. Watching.

  “So much for donuts,” Carolyn sighed, and grabbed her bag from the floor at her feet. “Let’s get away from here. I think we need sister to sister chat. Sorry, Paige. This isn’t exactly what I was hoping for.”

  I squeezed her arm. “Thanks, for trying to help. It means a lot.”

  I didn’t want them to leave. Not for a second. I wanted Rebecca to tell me everything. Spill the details of every single second she’d spent with him and more besides.

  The way she grabbed her own bag and got to her feet told me without a doubt that she’d be keeping her cards
firmly to her chest from here on in.

  “You walking with us?” Carolyn asked, but there was no way I wanted to intrude on their conversation. I felt like I’d intruded enough for a lifetime already.

  I pointed to my glass, still half full. “Go ahead,” I said. “I’ll finish up and head back to dorms.”

  She leaned in for a hug and I squeezed her hard.

  “I’ll see you on campus.”

  “See you soon,” I said, and managed a wave to Rebecca. “Nice to meet you.”

  She nodded. “And you,” she said, but I’m not sure I believed her.

  They didn’t need to get the bill. Not with the generous sum of cash on the table top.

  I watched them leave. Carolyn’s finger was jabbing in Rebecca’s direction before they were even out of sight.

  It took me less than a minute before I grabbed my mobile from my handbag with shaking fingers.

  I called up his profile and clicked the message button with my breath in my throat.

  My words were desperate and instinctive, I didn’t even read them back before I pressed send.

  Please tell me the sixty days are still on. I really need them to be. I’m sorry you found me here. Please don’t hold it against me. I’ll do whatever you say, I swear.

  The sent icon flashed up on my screen and I took a deep breath.

  I just hoped he got it. Soon. Before he could scrub me off the list and call some other girl in my place. Some other girl who didn’t stalk down the ones he’d already paid for services and try to drag their private stories out over cocktails.

  I just hoped I was still enough for him after seeing me under actual lightbulbs and not teetering around in the beachy shadows.

  Maybe that was why he hadn’t spoken a word to me.

  Maybe I was every bit as much the ugly duckling next to Rebecca Lane as I feared.

  I jumped a mile when a ping sounded. Thumbs fumbling with my lock screen in my scrabble to get to the message.

  My heart was pumping in my ears when his profile picture showed in my notifications.

  I could barely breathe for the nerves as I clicked to pull it up.

  My eyes must’ve been as wide as saucers as I feasted on the message in front of me. So focused on reading his reply that I barely noticed the shadow looming over me.

  You can apologise in person, the message said.

  I jumped a whole load more than a mile as he lowered himself into the chair next to me.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Brandon

  Oh how she started when I took a seat at her side. I wasted no time in getting down to business.

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” I told her.

  She was different to the Lane girls. Her eyes were naturally downcast, not daring to meet with mine. Her knees were tight together, her posture rigid like a schoolgirl in a draconian classroom.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wanted to be prepared. I was worried I wouldn’t be… I don’t have much… experience…”

  I leaned towards her. “And what makes you think for a second I want experience?”

  Those pretty eyes of hers shot right up to mine. “You don’t? But I thought… Rebecca seems…”

  “Rebecca seems what?”

  She shrugged.

  I waited.

  She took a tiny sip of her cocktail and shrugged again.

  “Rebecca is beautiful. Amazing. Confident. I’m sure she knew exactly how to please.”

  The girl’s inherent humility was captivating. Rebecca Lane was a fine looking specimen, certainly. She’d been a lucrative sixty-day offering. Loud and expressive. Eager to perform. Easy to break.

  But Rebecca Lane had nothing like the natural potency of the flower in front of me. Self-conscious in the most touching of ways. Sweet and demure, with an obvious willingness to sacrifice herself for the good of others.

  Yet the sweet little flower had a potent dirtiness at her centre. A need in her eyes that called my name, craving the darkness that came with surrender.

  “You have exactly what I’m looking for,” I told her, surprised at the sincerity in my tone.

  A shocked flash of her eyes. A glorious flush shining through her makeup.

  “I do?”

  I graced her with a sly smile. “Yes, Paige Emmerson. You do.”

  “You know my name,” she said, with little surprise. “Rebecca said you would know everything. She said you have contacts.”

  “I have many contacts. Knowing everything is important in my line of business.”

  She twisted a little closer to facing me. “You knew I was here tonight with Rebecca, didn’t you?”

  “Either that or a very lucky coincidence, don’t you think?”

  “You could have called… told me not to meet with her…”

  My smile crept back up again. “Yes. I could.” I beckoned the waiter over. “But where would the amusement be in that, Miss Emmerson?”

  “Amusement?” she asked, looking back toward the table as the waiter joined us.

  “Another scotch,” I told him. “And whatever my companion here is drinking.”

  He sidestepped to meet her eyes. “Same again?” he asked, and she nodded.

  “Please.”

  I waited until he was on the retreat before I spoke again.

  “Rebecca Lane is a loose cannon on very dangerous ground. You’d be wise not to associate with her again.”

  I felt her stare as it ploughed right into me. “She’s in love with you. I guess that makes her cannon a little looser.”

  My laugh was cold. “The girl is not in love with me.”

  I wasn’t expecting the strength in her tone as her words came again. “She’s in love with you. Definitely. It was obvious. You can’t fake that kind of emotion.”

  In normal circumstances I’d have dismissed her reasoning with a wave of the hand and relegated her to the realms of idiocy, where I’d already relegated the vast majority of humankind.

  But these were not normal circumstances. Nothing about this girl was normal circumstances.

  “Stockholm Syndrome is a very real phenomenon,” I told her. “There is nothing even close to love in the way that girl feels about me. It’s fantastical projection, nothing more.”

  She shrugged again. I was becoming familiar with the dainty movement in her shoulders. “If you say so.”

  “I know so.”

  “Then I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree,” she said, with the softest smile on that pretty mouth.

  I had to rein in the desire to sink my teeth into her lower lip and tug until she squealed.

  She was an enigma in the most dazzling of contradictions. Sure, yet uncertain. Self-assured, yet seeking solace in other’s strength. Shy, yet brave. Powerful in her own determination, yet drowning in fear.

  Incredible.

  The girl was incredible.

  She’d be as lucrative as ten Rebecca Lanes combined.

  The waiter returned with our drinks and this time I took mine from him without tossing it down in one.

  “I never agree to disagree,” I told her when he was gone. “In my world it’s my way or a severe bout of punishment until you rethink your position.”

  “And is this your world?” she asked, without even a hint of brat in her voice.

  “Not yet,” I smirked and held up my glass to her. “But you’ll be in it soon enough.”

  She finished up her first drink and took a decent swig of the next.

  “How soon is soon enough?” she asked, and the desperation in her tone was palpable. “I was hoping you could tell me… a date… I need to make plans…”

  “A month or more, as I already stated.”

  She flinched. “I know you did. I was just hoping…” She took a breath and plastered on a smile of such fakery, I wanted to slap it right off her face. “I’ll be ready whenever you want me.”

  She wasn’t expecting the way I moved. Wasn’t expecting the way I took her jaw in my grip and forced her
eyes to mine.

  “I know about your sister,” I said. “I know she’s scraping the dregs of existence, snorting drugs with a fuckwit loser. It’s pitiful. A sorry situation which you have no responsibility for.”

  Her mouth dropped open so fucking wide I could have slipped my fingers to the back of her throat in a fucking beat. I didn’t let go of her jaw. Not even when she squirmed and raised her hands to mine.

  “How did you?! How could you know?!”

  “As I said, knowing everything is important in my line of business. You’d better get used to it, Miss Emmerson. Believe me, I’ll know a damn sight more by the time your sixty days are done.”

  Her eyes welled. Hurt.

  She was fucking hurt.

  Embarrassed.

  Humiliated.

  I’d have licked the tears right from her eyes if we weren’t in a fucking cocktail bar.

  “She needs me,” she whispered. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right for her.”

  “That’s noble dedication, considering she’d undoubtedly do whatever it takes to make it to the fucking dealer’s pad while you were burning in front of her. She’d sell your soul for a decent fucking coke wrap.”

  She shook her head, straining against my grip. “She’s in a bad place. She can get better. I’ll make sure she gets better.”

  “Such foolish optimism,” I said. “There’s every chance it’s her who’ll make sure you get fucking worse.”

  We shouldn’t be having this conversation.

  Sixty-day conquest or not, this was none of my business. None of my interest.

  Her druggie sister and her pitiful existence made no odds to mine.

  Paige Emmerson herself made no odds to mine, other than the promise of a delicious cash injection to my offshore bank account.

  Quite why I kept her in my grip with my gut flaming at the disgust of her being caught up in this shit was beyond every one of my well-accustomed sensibilities.

  “I have to do this,” she said, and her fingers landed softly on mine.

  Shy, yet brave.

  “Why do you?” I asked. “Why is your fate so dependent on hers?”

  Her eyes were the fiercest I’d seen them.

  “Because I love her. She’s my sister.”