by Portia Moore
“I have a proposition for you.” She smiles. “And this time, it’s business, not pleasure. Would you be interested in working for me?”
I set down my fork. “I thought I already worked for you,”
I say with a smirk, trying to be charming. From the way she flushes slightly, I can tell it worked.
“I mean as a member of my personal security,” she clarifies.
I think of the two guys who are always somewhere in her vicinity whenever I see her and try to picture what they look like. I remember them being super big dudes that look a hell of a lot scarier than me.
“I need someone who blends in with my scene more. It will be a substantial pay raise,” she continues and quotes a figure that’s well over three times more than what I’m making now. Hell, it’s tempting just for that—that salary plus what I make for the agency would go a long way towards setting up a nice nest egg for myself.
“I have to let you know I’ve checked you out extensively,” she says, a suggestive note in her voice as her eyes trail down my chest and abs, down to where the sheet is gathered in my lap.
That’s an understatement, I think, trying to smother a grin.
“You’d be passing as my…companion. You fit what I’m looking for to a tee, and you passed the last test with flying colors,” Sonya says, with an unashamed grin at the last part.
I swallow hard. I’d had some idea that this might be where it ended up. But now that we’re here, I’m not sure whether to be afraid, aroused, or both. Fucking one of Vincent’s inner circle hadn’t been part of the plan. But I also know that part of this job is improvisation. And this will get me closer than I could possibly have hoped.
“It comes with more perks than you can imagine. We’ll clean up your wardrobe. You’ll have access to cars that someone who I’m with would be expected to have,” she says, leaning towards me with a smile on her lips. “All of that’s the easy part. The hard part is doing whatever needs to be done.” She says this seriously, and the smile in her eyes that was briefly there is gone.
Holy shit. My mind goes back to last night when I did what she believes needed to be done, and I wonder where Sonya fits in this organization.
“You should take the day and think about it, though. Give me a call tonight.” She kisses me softly and quickly on the lips, just enough for me to taste a hint of the champagne from last night, and then takes the tray away.
That’s my cue to leave, I guess. I stand up, gathering my clothes from the floor, and put myself back together as quickly as possible, calling a cab. I need to get home, shower, and change before I meet with Agent Davidson. I’m going to be cutting it close as it is.
Being back in my apartment is a far cry from the luxury I was surrounded by last night. I toss my keys on the cracked laminate counter, stripping off my clothes and tossing them into the hamper as I turn on the shower. While the hot water runs over me, I try to figure out what’s happened and collect myself—this is all a clusterfuck now. It’s a hell of a shift from what I was supposed to be doing, which was being at the club, keeping an eye out for evidence that could be directly pinned to Vincent or his organization. There’s a knot growing in my stomach. It had seemed like the right choice at the time, but maybe I was thinking with my dick instead of the head on my shoulders. Not that I’m entirely sure I ever had a choice.
The anxiety only grows as I drive to the restaurant where I’m meeting Davidson. I walk in and see him seated at a corner booth, reading the menu. When I sit down, Davidson looks up with a grin. “Did you have a good night?” he asks, smirking a little. I’m confused for a second, and then it hits me.
He fucking knows about Sonya.
“I’m not entirely sure what word I’d use,” I say carefully, meeting his gaze. I brief him on everything, from the attempted robbery to Sonya’s invitation to the party, the man in the basement who I’d shot at the bar and then tortured last night. “Sonya took me home after,” I say finally, feeling my cheeks redden a little with embarrassment as I clear my throat and attempt to put it as bluntly as possible. “We slept together.” I opt to leave out the part about Brigit—that seems like an unnecessary detail.
“Was anyone else there?”
Fuck. “Yes,” I admit. “She had another girl there, who left halfway through.
I swear Davidson looks jealous.
“Go on,” he says curtly.
“She wanted me to stay the night. I didn’t want to seem suspicious, so I did. This morning, she offered me a position on her security team but in a more undercover capacity. I’d be playing the role of her companion, and well, last night indicates that she wants me to play that role as accurately as possible.” I pause, clearing my throat again. “I think that accepting might be a mistake.”
To my surprise, Davidson starts laughing. He sets the menu down, trying to catch his breath. “This is a major part of why you were chosen,” he tells me with that same smirk. “We made a note of Sonya’s past lovers, what her type is, and you fit it to a T. You going home with her last night is exactly why you were placed where you were. You couldn’t be in a better position to accept her offer right now.”
I stare at him, shocked. “Wouldn’t that take me away from seeing things in Vincent’s organization?”
“Rostov, Sonya is one of the major parts of the organization,” Davidson says patiently. “She’s a part of Vincent’s family. There’s no better place that you could be right now than in her bed.” He grins.
Is he fucking serious?
I’d known Sonya was calculating, but it seems the FBI is just as bad.
Davidson chuckles. “It’s why one of the requirements of your position was no family and no ties. We needed someone who could get in on a personal level, so a guy with a wife or girlfriend couldn’t have done it, at least not without it maybe getting messy. You were a perfect fit.” He takes notice of my expression and claps me on the back, but his face tells me clearly that there’s no argument.
“Cheer up,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s all just a part of doing business.”Maybe he’s right, I think. There are certainly worse jobs in the world. Still, I can’t help but feel that I’ve just been thrown into the lioness’s den.And I’m not sure anyone will be there to bail me out if shit goes bad.
12
Rain
When we step inside the New York brownstone, Erin's face reminds me of how I felt the first time I stepped inside Vincent’s penthouse apartment back in Chicago. It stops me in my tracks as I watch her look around with her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide, and an excited look on her face. I remember how stunned I was to see the wealth Vincent had accumulated, the luxury he lived in—a kind of life that I could never have imagined having, especially when I was Erin’s age. I was swept away easily enough at nineteen. I can only imagine how much more so if I had been even younger when Vincent had met me.
This is exactly why I’m uncomfortable with her being here. This would be a lot for anyone to take in after growing up the way we did. For a seventeen-year-old who’s as impressionable as Erin, it could be devastating if and when it gets taken away. And this won’t last forever.
“Oh my god,” Erin is saying, walking a few steps ahead of Vincent as she ducks into the living room. “I can’t believe you live here.” She opens the door to the entertainment room, her jaw almost hitting the floor when she sees the theater-sized screen, sound system, and gaming consoles in the room. “This is insane!”
My eyes go to Vincent, who is practically glowing, basking in Erin’s praise. This is why he fell for me. I was so in awe of him. I made him feel special, magnificent. That’s why he has a garden of flowers and can’t just be faithful to me—because inevitably, you get used to this. You can’t help it when you’re in this life day in and day out. Every new girl he seduces gives him this feeling of awe and adoration, like a drug that he just has to get another hit of. It makes him feel powerful.
Maybe he was telling the truth tonight when he said I make him
happy despite everything. But he also needs to be adored, and I stopped adoring him months ago.
I guide Erin down the hall towards the guest room where she’ll be sleeping, and she lets out a little squeal when she sees it. It couldn’t be more different from her room back home. Instead of a small twin made up with a Walmart comforter set and a couple of pillows, there’s a king-size bed with a thick, luxurious powder-blue duvet, hotel-style pillows in white to match the white sheets stacked three deep on the headboard, soft powder-blue embroidered pillows, and a matching cashmere throw blanket tossed on as well. The carpet is thick, plush, and white. Eyelet drapes hang at the windows, and there’s a huge mahogany dresser, floor-length mirror, and walk-in closet.
Erin stands in the middle of the room, visibly shocked, and drops her luggage onto the carpet. It’s a small Pink luggage bag, covered in the familiar puppy print in white and pink, and it looks out of place in the stylish room. Erin seems to know that because she nudges it under the bed with her toe.
“You should see the bathroom,” I say quickly, not wanting her to be embarrassed, and open the door to show her the jacuzzi tub, separate shower, and huge vanity. “The floors are heated,” I tell her, and Erin laughs disbelievingly. “I wish I could stay here forever,” she says wistfully.
Vincent smiles indulgently at her. “You’re welcome for as long as you like and as long as your sister wants you here,” he says with a sort of brotherly air. I grit my teeth. Of course, he would put it on me, so if I push to have Erin go back home, it seems like I don’t want her when I do. I just don’t want her to be sucked into this life like I was.
He steps forward and gives me a quick, sweet kiss. “I’ll be in our room, Poppy,” he says, running one finger along my jaw before stepping back. “I’ll give you girls some time.”
Erin flops on the bed the moment Vincent is gone, letting out a long sigh of happiness. “You’re soooo lucky,” she says, a hint of envy in her voice as she rolls over onto her stomach on the massive bed. “It’s like you’re a princess, Rain! I mean, Mom told me he was rich, but I had no idea he was this rich! You hit the jackpot!” Erin bites her lip. “Just seeing all of this…the plane, and how big this place is, and how fancy…this is real. You’re, like, marrying Prince Charming.”
I sit down slowly on the bed, reaching to hug her again. “I guess it does seem like that. I’m so happy you’re here, Erin. I missed you so much.”
She sits up, grinning at me. “I kind of got the feeling you didn’t want me to come. I know you’re probably really busy--”
I bite my tongue, wishing more than anything I could tell her the truth. I’m not busy at all, of course—I’m anything but busy. My days are full of nothing but working out and making sure I don’t eat anything I’m not supposed to. Oh, and waiting for Vincent to come home so I can seem happy to see him. Or getting ready to pose on his arm for whatever dinner or function he wants me to go to. I’m a decoration, a living wind-up doll.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it. Whatever else I feel about this, I don’t want Erin to feel as if I don’t want to see her. That couldn’t be further from the truth. “It’s not that I didn’t want you to come. The move was just really fast, and I haven’t bounced back…it was just a lot happening all at once. It definitely has nothing to do with you.”
Erin’s face relaxes, and I hug her again. “I love you,” I tell her sincerely. “And we’re going to have so much fun together. There are so many things to do here! I’ll have to show you everything I can.”
“I can’t wait!” Erin says enthusiastically. She yawns, snuggling back against the pillows.
“Everything you need is already in the bathroom if you want to take a shower or a bath.” I give her a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’ll come get you for breakfast in the morning.”
“You are so lucky that this is your life, Rain. You know that, right?”
Somehow, I manage to smile back at her. “I sure do,” I tell her, forcing sincerity into my voice. “Goodnight, Erin.”
Vincent is already in bed when I walk into our room. He’s bare-chested, scrolling through his phone. I can’t help but remember a time when the sight of him shirtless in our bed would have made me stop and look twice, would have made my whole body feel hot with desire. Now I just hope it doesn’t mean what I think it does.
He doesn’t say anything to me as I change out of my clothes and into a black silk nightgown, which makes me feel a little eerie, as if something’s about to happen that I don’t know about. Vincent makes me feel that way more and more these days, like I don’t quite know what he’ll do next.
He’s like a lion waiting to pounce, I think as I slide into bed next to him. One minute he’s calm and poised, and the next, he’s furious and lashing out.
Vincent puts down his phone and looks over at me. “I get the feeling you didn’t want your sister here with you, Poppy,” he says tersely. “Would you have rather I left her back in Indiana?”
I immediately tense, wondering what the right answer is. For all I know, he’s just waiting for me to say anything at all so he can continue to rant about how ungrateful I am. “I’m just worried about her school, is all,” I manage to say calmly, keeping my cool despite my stomach tying itself in knots. “End of junior year can be hard. It’s setting her up for her last year of high school. Erin is really smart. I just don’t want anything to stand in her way. And she’s already under so much stress because of our dad--”
“Well, I’m happy for her to be here if it keeps her safe and makes you less stressed,” he says, his lips thinly pressed together. “But now that she’s here, I want to remind you that our marriage is the priority, Poppy. I come first before anyone. You remember that, right?”
“Of course,” I say softly, reaching out to touch his hand. “Of course, you come first. You’re my fiancé.”
He narrows his eyes, looking closely at me. “You’re grateful, aren’t you? For everything that I’ve done, and keep doing, for your family?”
“Of course I am,” I repeat numbly, wondering where this is going. “No one else would have done this, Vincent. We all appreciate it so much.”
He smiles a sleek, satisfied smile, like a cat who caught a mouse. He pushes the sheets back, and I see that he’s entirely nude and ready for me, as if this tense banter has turned him on.
“Well then,” he says, leaning back into the pillows. “I think now would be a good time for you to show me exactly how much you appreciate it.” His hand slides behind my head as he says it, and I know exactly what he wants from me as he pushes it down towards his erection, groaning as I take him in my mouth.
At least this will be over fairly quickly. I just hope this is all he wants.
My alarm goes off the next morning, screeching through my head and jerking me out of my sleep. I didn’t set the alarm—Vincent’s done it for me. My body feels tired and weighed down. The sex wasn’t like the night before when I got lost in it, where I was being satisfied and almost worshipped. It was about him. I guess it was his turn, and honestly, it made it less emotionally confusing for me since I detached. At least the blowjob was all that he wanted, which made it easier to pretend.
It’s more than my body feeling tired. My spirit is broken, my mind is worn out, and I think he wants me this way. Too tired—physically, emotionally, and mentally—to fight back. To make plans.
To escape.
It’s working. I’m too tired to figure out how to regroup from my plans falling to pieces the night before. I can’t do anything other than summon up the necessary strength to put on the mask and pretend that everything is okay—better than okay—and that I’m happy. Even more so now that Erin is with us. She can’t find out how things really are between Vincent and me because I don’t want her to have to deal with the burden of knowing that. I want my sweet little sister to stay innocent as long as possible.
Her being here makes me feel both better and worse. It’s been so long since I’ve had any of my famil
y close to me that having my sister under the same roof is a relief…and at the same time, I can’t help but be worried for her. I don’t think she’s in any danger, exactly—not from Vincent. I don’t love him the way I once did or trust him. But I don’t think he’s a monster.
Well…not that kind of monster, anyway. Not the kind that preys on his fiancée’s sixteen-year-old sister.
I drag myself out of bed. I can’t miss my morning workout again. I take a quick shower, scrubbing away the memory of Vincent’s touch, all traces of the night before. I’m not sure which is worse, honestly—feeling dirty because I did enjoy it the night before, or feeling sick the entire time, knowing that Vincent is using me for his own power trip.
It doesn’t matter, I think, as I dry off and get dressed in my workout clothes, throwing my hair up into a ponytail. He’s going to get what he wants either way.
Before I head down to the gym, I peek in Erin’s room to see if she’s still sleeping. She looks peaceful, sprawled out in the king-sized bed as if determined to take up every inch of it. She looks happy and comfortable, and I feel a pang of both pride and nausea. Pride that Erin is getting to experience luxury for once in her life instead of deprivation, and sick that I’ve caused this—not just the part that Erin will enjoy, but the part that I’m worried about. It’s because of me that she’s here, and if anything bad happens—if her schoolwork suffers, if she gets caught up in all of this, anything—it’ll be my fault.
The one good part about my mandated workouts is that it’s impossible to think about anything else while doing them. I go through the steps of cardio, weights, more cardio, bodyweight exercises, and then some more cardio to finish it off. Alex has me use a different machine every time—rowing, stationary bike, elliptical, treadmill—but the result is always the same. By the end of it, I’m drenched in sweat, muscles I don’t even have names for are aching, and my legs are numb. Under other circumstances, I might be proud of myself for getting through this, even enjoying the results of being fit for the first time in my life instead of just skinny. But I can’t because all I feel right now is resentment.