Jennie
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"The secret is you soak the chicken strips overnight in buttermilk first before you batter the pieces. If you pick up the stuff, I'll make it one night," I tell Christine.
She smiles and the corners of her eyes crinkle. The woman has to be close to sixty and she reminds me exactly of my mother. My poor mother was a casualty in my life. I miss her.
"You look nice, Jennie," she tells me when the timer goes off.
I'm perched at the bar and have been watching her cook. She flits around the kitchen as if she were born to do so. I could watch and chat with her for hours. Just like Mom and I used to do.
"Thanks, Christine. At least someone in this house thinks so," I say with a groan. My eyes travel over something 'more presentable' and I sigh. I'd donned a pair of dark skinny jeans, an off the shoulder pale pink cashmere sweater Bambam had purchased, and a pair of ballet flats. After Lisa was an asshole this morning, I bothered Bambam enough to where he finally broke down and spent a couple hours fixing me up.
She sets the lasagna on a hot pad and walks over to stand in front of me. Her hands go on her hips and she narrows her eyes at me. "Sometimes you're too sassy for your own good. But, somehow that's what makes that girl crazy for you. I've never seen her take to one of her girls the way she takes to you. Try not to drive her too crazy or push her too hard and I think maybe you might just last longer than her silly six month time limit that's coming up. We like your refreshing personality here. And despite what you think, Lisa knows. She knows that you are beautiful and intelligent and different. The other fellows, even fruity Bams, can't deny how stunning you are. Play your cards right, sweetie. I'd love to keep you."
My smile is immediate and I slide off the stool to run over to her. She envelopes me in her arms and I hug her tight. Inhaling her garlicky scent, I sigh into her hair. "I love you, Christine. You remind me of my mother."
She pulls away and taps me on the nose. "Your mother is a lucky lady."
Tears sting my eyes but I quickly blink them away.
"Miss, Ms. Manoban and her dinner guest are speaking privately in her office," Dubois' clipped voice interrupts our exchange. "She's asked that you're at the table waiting for her. Christine, shall I tell her dinner is ready?"
Seemingly embarrassed, Christine tugs away from me and flutters around the kitchen. "Lasagna just came out of the oven. You may tell her it's ready."
I hold his stare for a minute. He's ever dapper in his neat suit and his disdain for me is clearly painted on his features. I'm not sure why he hates me. Not wanting to irritate him, I nod and make my way to the dining room. As I enter the room, so does Lalisa.
And some pretty black haired woman.
"This must be your newest toy. What a pleasure to meet you," she says with a false smile before turning her adoring attention back to Lisa.
"Bunny, this is Jisoo. She's a Luxer. Black membership."
I remember her mentioning we'd have guests to entertain from time to time, but so far, every time she brings someone else into the house, it ends in disaster.
"I see." I can't hide the disappointment in my voice. The woman seems better matched for Lisa in her elegant black dress. She is stunning and I'm . . . not.
However, Lisa's hungry gaze is devouring my appearance as if I'm the beautiful one here, not this Jisoo girl. She's shooting daggers at me with her eyes, clearly pissed at the revelation. Lisa is sexy as hell so it's no surprise that most women fall all over themselves around her. I'm still upset with her for lying to me but since I feel threatened by the woman beside her, I'm itching to stake my claim. Even if that means not acting like a brat about her lying and my blow up earlier.
"Did you take care of everything?" I purr as I make my way over to Lisa. She's tense as I reach her but the moment my hand slides up her chest, she groans. I press a soft kiss on her lips and then start away from her.
Lisa's grip finds my wrist and she holds me firmly. "Bunny." I smile and bat my eyelashes innocently at her. She releases me but her glare never wanes, searching for ulterior motives.
My motive is the woman beside her—to display to her that Lisa's belongs to me. Flicking my eyes over to her, I smirk. Her nostrils flare but she takes her seat as if my presence doesn't annoy the shit out of her. The woman wants Lisa and that's just too damn bad. She's mine.
Lisa sits down and the woman leans into her, whispering something into Lisa's ear I'm not privy to. Lisa's dark blue eyes turn their angry shade of grey and I want to climb over the table to yank her claws from Lisa's bicep. She told Lisa something to infuriate her and now I hate her even more.
"Excuse me," I say to anyone who'll listen and stalk off toward the wine closet. I know Christine hasn't chosen anything so I'll grab a bottle—anything to get away from Jisoo's disdainful glare. I'm just reaching for an expensive bottle of 2010 Louis Jadot Pouilly Fuissé from the shelf when I sense Lisa's presence. Heat, desire, anger—all rolled into one. It's her signature aura when she isn't playing the role of someone sweet and likable.
"So you just call another chick any time we have a fight? She whispers some garbage in your ear and you're back to hating me? Is that it? You just needed a 'how to be an asshole' pep talk?" Bitter tears form in my eyes but I don't let them fall.
Her hands slip around me and she caresses my stomach. "Bunny, shut up."
"No," I counter. "I won't shut up. Everything was fine until you lied to me. And then you invite some woman to flaunt her beauty in front of me just to be mean. Why? Why can't we just be happy?"
She growls and twists me in her arms. I meet her angry stare and lift my chin. Everything about her screams at me to run but despite her bizarre fetishes, she's not evil. I know evil.
"I can't be happy. Playing with my toys is the closest thing I'll ever come to any kind of happiness. It's just not a part of who I am." Her words are simple but I hear a hint of vulnerability behind them. An undeniable sadness. A wound I want to heal for her.
"I can make you happy, Lisa."
Her lips are on mine in an instant and she shoves me into the rack, bottles clang loudly as she kisses me. I whimper when her hand slides up under my soft shirt and finds my breast. She squeezes it and I moan.
"God, you're so beautiful." Her mouth is all over mine, worshipping me. Hungry and eager. Curious about my promise to her. "I'm sorry I lied to you. I didn't kill him because I wanted to make him fucking pay. It was too easy. He hurt you and that was too simple for him."
Her confession and apology warm me. Soon, I'm fumbling with her buttons, needing her to take me right here in the wine closet.
"And," she breathes heavily as she tears away from my kiss, "no matter what you wear, no matter how little or a lot of makeup you're wearing, you're so goddamn beautiful it makes me crazy."
I melt with her words. "There's nothing wrong with you. Not one single thing."
She groans and I palm her cheek. Our eyes search the other's for answers that neither of us have.
"Bunny, I'm not right in the head. I want to hurt women. Sometimes I want to hurt you. I'm evil." The shame in her words guts me.
Slipping my hands down to her slacks, I begin undoing them with quick fingers. "You think you're evil, but you're not. I've seen evil and I wouldn't continue to stay here if I thought you were. In the past, when I danced with the devil, I found a way to escape. If I thought you were even half as horrible as that time in my life, I'd have already gone."
A fierce roar grumbles in her throat and I drop to my knees. I take her throbbing length into my mouth and she hisses with pleasure when my tongue tastes her salty tip. I want her to feel with every lick, suck, and nibble that we have an undeniable explosive connection. As I take her deep, reveling in her satisfied grunts, I hope her mind is on the fact that she'll never have someone suck her dick with such an eagerness to please as I do. This woman thrives on control and I crave making her release the reigns only to have them drop to the floor beside me. Even if only while sucking her cock, I want her to lose her mind under my authority.
"Jesus, woman," she hisses. "You're killing me."
Her words fuel me to perform the final act. My teeth scrape her shaft and I squeeze her full balls in an effort to drive her to maddening bliss. A string of curse words belt from her as I eventually bring her to an orgasm that has her yanking at my perfectly styled hair.
After I swallow my appetizer, I stand and tuck her back into her pants, flashing her a pleased grin. "Best blow-jobs you'll ever have, handsome."
She grips onto my hair, and smashes her mouth to mine in an appreciative kiss. Once again, I'm banged against the shelves as she ravishes me with her expert tongue and perfect lips. When she finally tears away from me, her gaze is almost angry. But good angry. Lisa sexy angry.
"I'll never let you leave me. You're mine, Jennie."
My name on her lips is sweeter than any hit of heroin I used to crave. "You're mine too, Lalisa."
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The flight to Vegas a few weeks later isn't long and I mostly daydream. It'll be the first time I'll visit her "legal" sex hotel and I'm anxious. I hope that dumb Jisoo chick won't be there. At first, when I met her, I'd been threatened. But, once Lisa and I cleared the air about our feelings, things got better. That night, Jisoo had pushed around the food on her plate while Lisa and I inhaled ours. There was such a look of disappointment on Lisa's face when I asked Jisoo if she was on a diet because the lasagna was the best I'd ever eaten. Thankfully, her disappointment was pointed toward Jisoo and Jisoo knew it. Of course she blamed me for Lisa's sudden adoration of me over her. She'd tried multiple times to sneakily throw in my face that she was like her and I was merely a toy. But each time, I'd nudge Lisa's foot under the table and grin wickedly at her. To my delight, she'd smile back and wink. It was our own little secret.
"We're almost there. It's the biggest hotel on the strip. Half of it holds a casino and several five star restaurants. There are even a few select levels of rooms on the north side we rent out to keep the façade up. On the south side, the bulk of the rooms remain as well as some private dining establishments that are only available to our Black members. And we have some meeting rooms for when group events are held. I've gone to a couple of them but I prefer to play with my toy by myself."
I take her hand as Dubois pulls the rental into a covered valet parking spot behind the building. Since Lisa is the owner, I guess we get special privileges like back access. I'm eager, being that I've never been to Vegas, to try my hand at a few slot machines.
"What are we going to do? I'm excited to be here with you. It'll be so romantic," I gush as we climb out of the car. For the trip here, I'd settled on a white sweater dress with black leggings and black heeled boots. Bambam curled my hair into loose waves and had done my eyes up in smoky shades. Lisa nearly devoured me when I exited the salon this morning but Dubois—the spoilsport—reminded her of our itinerary.
Lisa stops and I turn to see why. Her frown is immediate and I go to her, wrapping my arms around her waist.
"Remember, Bunny, I'm here on business. I need to have a little chat with Kai, meet with Jackson and Irene, and I even have a game of golf scheduled with a client."
My heart sinks but I nod. "Okay, well, I suppose I could venture out on my own. See what Vegas has to offer."
She's already shaking her head before I can finish. "Don't leave the hotel. And when we get inside, one of the staff will give you a gold lanyard. You're to wear it at all times. It's what lets the other Luxers know you're my toy. Nobody will touch you as long as you have it on. Other Black member's toys will have black lanyards and the rest of the toys have white lanyards. If you come across someone without one, it means the Luxer wants to share his toy."
I force a smile. "Lovely."
"I don't share, Bunny. You're mine. I'd rather you stay in the penthouse suite until I get back but I know you and you're a curious one. So promise me you'll stay on this side of the casino and keep that lanyard on."
Nodding, I start to walk inside. The door opens to a dark hallway where a nice-looking young man hands me the much coveted gold lanyard and a room key. I glance down the hallway to see that it leads to a set of elevators. When I turn around, Lisa is leaned up against the counter with a frown marring her perfect features.
"What?"
"I'm supposed to meet my client now. You go on up and get comfortable. We'll have dinner together later. Dubois will deposit the luggage and see to it if you need anything else."
"Oh."My disappointment is evident and she strides over to me.
"Jen, please don't do this. Smile. This weekend can still be fun. Just let me get this shit over with and then I promise I'll make it up to you."
Her lips drop to mine and she kisses me sweetly. I want her to take me up to the suite and make love to me. I'm becoming addicted to her touch and seeing her all day every day. Losing her for a few hours sort of guts me.
When she breaks away and flashes me a grin, I sigh and smile back. She's hot but she's beautiful too. An innocence always radiates from her, just below the surface, and I latch myself onto it. There's something about Lisa that I want to protect and nurture. But then there's her devious side that I adore too. The side that sometimes hurts me in a way I like—a way that makes me want to beg for more. Because then, when it's all over, sweet girlfriend material, Lalisa shows up and fixes it all with her worshipping kisses and caresses. She's confusing and multi-faceted but I want all of her layers all mixed up into the woman who stands before me.
If she decides at the end of our contract she doesn't want me, this could get complicated.
"Bye," I wave and blow her a kiss. "I'll try not to get into too much trouble."
Her eyes darken but she doesn't follow me onto the elevator. I can see how much she'd rather be with me but duty calls. The elevator closes and my smile falls. With the close of the doors, I feel as though I'm severed from her. I don't like that feeling.
I'm addicted to her.
I crave her.
I need her more than I ever needed the heroin.
Lisa is my drug.
There are worse addictions, I suppose.
A smile plays on my lips as the elevator rises to the top. When it reaches the floor just below the penthouse, marked with a B instead of a number, the elevator dings. The doors slide open and I flick my gaze up.
The scent chokes me. The world spins on its axis. A hell I tried so hard to escape from consumes me in one shocked yet satisfied glare.
No! No! No!
"M-Mark, what are you doing here?" I stammer. My skin grows cold and my knees weaken upon seeing him. It's been so long but he hasn't changed much. There's a little grey at his temples but aside from that, he's the same.
Same evil man.
Same twisted-ass motherfucker.
"So you're British now, Peach?" he scoffs. "You always were a good actress." He steps into the elevator but leaves his foot blocking the door from closing. "I've missed you, Jennie. Six years is a long time to wonder where your wife has been. I'd located you in London where you were whoring yourself out but then you disappeared again. Now I get it. You're Lalisa Manoban's spoiled whore." His eyes flicker knowingly to the gold lanyard in my grip.
Terror washes over me and I try to bolt past him. He snatches my bicep, his brutal fingers bruising me with his strength, and he forces me back inside. I yelp when he shoves me against the wall beside the panel of buttons. Reaching for the G, I mash at it. The doors start to close but his foot stops it.
His hand releases my arm and it's on my throat, squeezing. Tears gush out over my cheeks and I swat at him to let me go.
"Did you think I wouldn't ever find you again? You have no idea how much money I've spent trying to keep tabs on you. London was tricky because you fell off the grid for a while. But it wasn't long before my sources led me to your little girlfriend."
Does Lisa know who this cruel bastard is?
She can't know. I refuse to believe that. Lalisa eats assholes like Mark for lunch.
"Let me go!" I hiss.
His grip tightens and he slams my head a couple of times into the wall behind me. Stars glitter in my vision and my knees wobble wildly. When I start to collapse, he grips me upright against the wall.
"I'll tell her," I choke out. "What you did to me."
He laughs and it's wicked. It chills me to my bones. Memories of a life with him assault me and I want to vomit. I hate him. I hate this man I was married to.
"I could ruin a motherfucker like Lalisa Manoban, Peach. You and I both know I have the connections to do so. We both know she dances on a fine line of what's legal and what's not. And my power is growing. I'm running for president in a few years. That's right, bitch. She's nothing and you're nothing. You belong to me and I know exactly where to find you now."
I squirm but he strikes me with the back of his hand, his knuckles cracking against my cheekbone. As I howl in pain, he sets to dragging me out of the elevator and into the hallway. The moment we're out, he shoves me to the carpet and I feel the immediate burn in my elbows. I'm trying to recover when he kicks me in the ribs.
Just like old times.
I attempt to crawl away but he kicks me again, hard enough for me to puke on the carpet.
He's going to kill me.
He has tried before and failed though.
"I-I-I will tell her. She cares about me." My words are nothing more than a ragged rush of whispers.
"You're delusional, Jennie. If you tell her, I'll drag your ass all the way back to Georgia. She'll go down for kidnapping my wife. Can you imagine the headlines? Illegal Sex Hotel Owner Kidnaps Presidential Hopeful's Wife. The press will eat that shit up. Your precious master will spend the rest of her years getting ass-raped in prison. And you," he spits out as he grabs me by my hair and drags me to my feet, "will come home and spend your years getting ass-raped or worse in your own personal prison."
The sobs wracking through me are unrecognizable. I'm not this woman anymore. I'm not the woman who lets Mark break me.
He broke me over and over again. And that last time, he crushed the only beating part of my heart. He didn't just break me, he obliterated me.
"I'm not coming with you."
He laughs and it's a bitter, harsh sound. "Not yet. I have appointments and shit, being a politician and all. I don't have time to explain the sudden appearance of my wife. But I will come for you. You'll be there for at least another couple months or so where she'll be playing with you according to my research on her. That's her thing—six months and then done. It makes me livid knowing she has you but I will bide my time. When your time is up, I will come for you. If you come willingly, my FTL relationship with Lisa remains and I'll extend leniency on you. She won't go to prison. You'll be a hero, Mrs. Lee. Your missing whereabouts will be blamed on some other asshole and you will be a queen in the media's eye."
"And if I don't agree?" The old me would have never challenged him. But the new me is slightly stronger.
"I'll make your life a living hell."
His face is red and furious, his hair messy. I watch him, with perfected practice, as he smooths his hair into place. As he tucks his Polo shirt back into his slacks. With the back of his hand, he wipes a bead of sweat off his brow. To any onlooker, he's a handsome, successful, wealthy man.
To me, he's evil personified.
He stole so much from me.
I won't let him steal Lalisa.
As I rise to my feet, I have a harder time recovering than him. Every part of me aches from his abuse. "How will you explain this?"
He shrugs his shoulders and smirks. "You weren't wearing your lanyard. Those are the rules, baby. But you better make sure you let her know it was some other asshole and not me. I will find out, Jennie."
I exhale in relief when he disappears into the elevators. Everything in me screams to take the next elevator down and tell Lisa everything. I know Lisa would hurt him. Ruin him even. At least I'd like to hope she would.
But I also know Mark all too well.
He's fucking psychotic.
Mark would make it his life's mission to rip apart my Lalisa. And people like Christine and Bambam would be collateral damage. The very idea of Lisa losing her beautiful home and sitting in a cold, dark cell has me sick again to my stomach.
But the thought of Mark and his wickedness at our Georgian home is too much. I can never go back there. Going back means certain death. He's tried to kill me before and I don't put it past him to do it again.
I'll never go back there.
When my time is up, I'll take Lisa's money and leave. I won't let Mark ruin her but I also won't go back to that monster. This is the only way.
Tears fall bitterly down my cheeks. I knew Lalisa and I were too good to be true. Someone always yanks the proverbial rug out from under my feet.
Every damn time.
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Lisa
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The man taunts her. Calls her names. Pushes her around. And I promised I wouldn't come out of the closet—that I'd just close my eyes and take a nap until Mama was done working.
But I can't.
She's my mom and watching some man hurt her is making me crazy.
I'm twelve and big for my age. I am pretty sure I can take him.
"Fucked up whore. You can't even get my dick hard." The man sneers and backhands my mama across the face.
Rage explodes through me and I'm flying out of the closet before I can stop myself. Mama is naked on her hands and knees sobbing. The stupid woman-beater, also naked, gapes at me in shock as I charge him. With one of my metal stars I'd cut from a soda can in my grip, I slash at his face with it. He lets out a grunt and ducks out of the way. His kick to my ribs sucks the breath out of me and I crash into the wall. I'm back on my feet in a second and charging back at him. This time, my fist connects with his face.
I've never punched anyone before but the popping sound it makes satisfies me. I want to do it over and over until he's a bloody pulp. Then, I'll get my mama out of here away from this crazy person.
I'm about to hit the guy again when out of nowhere his fist slams into my jaw. The world goes black around me and I hit the ground with a thud. My mama's safety is the last worry on my mind before I fade into oblivion.
"Lalisa Manoban?" A voice thunders from behind me, jerking me from my memories of the past. The sourness of my thoughts still leaves a bitter aftertaste on my tongue. That next morning, I'd awoken to my mother's moans as she rode the asshole's cock who beat the shit out of me. I had never felt so betrayed as I did that day.
"Mark Lee," I say to the man I recognize from his emails. "Glad to finally meet you in the flesh. You ready to get your ass kicked out on the green, Mr. President?"
He chuckles but the humor is a façade. He's pissed about something and not doing a very good job of hiding it. "I can assure you, I play the game much better than you."
His words settle over me like a cold fog. The threat in them doesn't feel like friendly banter about golf. It's something altogether different. It raises my hackles.
"We'll see, buddy."
He walks past me outside where Dubois is loading our luggage onto a cart to lug upstairs. I'm glad he's staying to keep an eye on Jen. That girl has trouble written all over her and it drives me insane knowing she'll be in this big city without me. Not that I fear she'd leave me or anything. The opposite actually. I'm afraid someone will take what's mine.
The valet pulls up in a brand new, Audi R8 Coupe convertible. It's black and silver and really making me want to trade in one of my cars back home for one.
"You have to let me drive, man," Mark says and then whistles. "Damn, this car is hot."
I roll my eyes at him, but climb into the passenger seat. When he gets in and lowers the top, I glance over at him. He's like a little kid in the fucking candy store.
"Guess they don't have cars this nice back east. What do presidential hopefuls drive anyway? Station wagons?" He may be a well-to-do politician but he doesn't make a fraction of what I make from my business ventures.
"I drive a beamer back home, asshole." His words are meant in jest but I notice the irritated edge to them.
Soon, we're cruising through Vegas without a care in the world. But that's not true. I've checked my phone a hundred times since we left making sure that Dubois hasn't tried to call or message. For some reason, I'm about to have a goddamned anxiety attack at having to leave Jennie by herself.
I miss my Bunny.
Mark drones on about his campaign bullshit and I nod as if I'm paying attention. I'll be glad when this is over so I can get back to her. She seemed crestfallen when I informed her this wasn't going to be a romantic weekend. It spurred something inside of me to make sure that changed. I will figure out a way to make this weekend special for her.
"So the staff tells me you have a toy. I mean, obviously you would being owner and all. What's she look like? How is she in bed? Does she suck cock like a champ? Does she scream like the whore she is when you beat her into submission or does she quietly beg for more? Curious minds want to know."
His words jerk me from my thoughts of her and I turn to glare at him. I don't like his shitty attitude.
"Bunny is fine. What toy did you get for this weekend?" I grit out, evading all of his other stupid-ass, nosy questions.
"Bunny. How cute." He flicks me a satisfied gaze. "Let's just say that Cherry, the sweet little young brunette toy I ordered, is incapacitated. I fucked her up earlier. You'll meet her at the dinner party."
I never really know what the members do with their toys but something tells me this guy is brutal with his. But his Black membership keeps me from knowing the details. If he violated the terms of their agreement though, I would know about it. And since I haven't received any memos from management, I suppose he isn't being too much of a prick.
"I'm not going to the dinner party. Bunny wants me to wine and dine her."
His knuckles grip the steering wheel and he shoots me an annoyed glance. "Thought she was your toy. Sounds like she's toying with you. Who's the boss again? For a minute there it sounded like she had your balls in her purse."
I fist my hands and grind my teeth together. If he weren't driving this expensive-ass car, I'd have already punched the fucker in the nose.
But, I don't like for others to see my weaknesses and like a bloody damn hound, I believe this power hungry punk would be sniffing around like he's on a hunt for the kill. So, I say what he needs to hear to keep him off my ass.
"Fine, we'll be there. Cherry and Bunny will get along well I'm sure."
He seems satisfied by my answer. "I hope Cherry can make it. She was feeling a little under the weather earlier. Guess choking on a cock'll do that to you though."
I nod as if I agree but I don't. Right now, I'm wondering how I ever agreed to play golf with this stupid fuck. Was I just like him at one time? Has Jennie changed me?
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"Have you heard from Kai?" I question Dubois as I chug down a bottle of water. I'm still hot as fuck from our intense golf game. Mark was drinking and it affected his game. He ended up beating the shit out of the golf cart with an expensive club. I didn't stop his stupid ass. I let him do it and secretly hoped some onlooker got him on video. A video like that would really help his presidential campaign—take a nosedive, that is.
Dubois is on his laptop at the small table in the room adjacent to the master in the penthouse suite. I'd come in here first before going to Jennie. He looks up from his screen and his lips press into a firm line.
"Ma'am, Irene and Jackson haven't seen or heard from him. He's totally gone off the grid. But, without your constant funnel of money he'd been taking, I don't think he can do much or go far. Give me some time and I'll find out where he is."
Dubois seems more on edge and I scowl at him. "What's wrong?"
His eyes widen in surprise. I've known the man for nearly two decades. I know when something bothers him. Just like he's been weird about Bunny, he's being fucking weird now too.
"She told me not to call you but . . ."
Rage explodes from within as a million horrible things flip through my mind. "But what? What the fuck is going on?"
I'm already stalking out of the room toward the master bathroom with Dubois hot on my heels. "Ma'am, something happened. I can assure you, I'm on it. I'll figure out what it was and . . ."
The knob is locked and I slam my fist against the door. "Jennie! Let me in!"
Dubois is nervously chattering behind me but all it takes is a furious glare at him to shut him up. He wisely leaves the room.
"Jennie!"
I'm about to kick in the goddamned door when the lock clicks and the door swings open. My rage simmers a bit to see Bunny looking like a fucking knockout. She's done her makeup dark, around her eyes but not in a whorish way—more like a runway model kind of way. A tight, short black, sleeveless dress hugs her gorgeous curves and she wears black stilettoes that make her much taller. Her dark hair has been straightened and hangs around her face in front of her shoulders.
"Jesus," I hiss out. "You look fucking amazing, woman."
Her pouty lips draw up into a forced smile and I clear the lust-filled thoughts from my head to focus on what's wrong. They're both acting so damn strange.
"What happened?" My demand is a low growl.
"Um, I," she whispers, "didn't have the lanyard on."
The wobble in her voice—filled with pure terror—infuriates me. If someone touched one single strand of hair on her head, I'll kill them.
"What happened?"
"They, uh, thought I was free game. Roughed me up a bit."
My vision goes black with rage. I storm from the bathroom and sling a lamp from a desk along the way. It crashes somewhere in the room but I don't stop to inspect the damage. With fisted hands, I charge to where Dubois paces in the other room. I shove him the moment I see him and he hits the floor hard. "Why the fuck did you not call me?" I roar. "Who the fuck hurt my woman?"
Dubois babbles on about shit. He'll search the surveillance tapes. Shit like that. I don't give a goddamn what he's talking about.
"Lisa."
Her voice is soft and when her arms slide around me from behind to hug me, I calm the inner storm that is raging inside. "He should have called me. I've been playing fucking golf while someone hurt you! Where? What did they do to you?"
Turning in her arms, I devour her features. She's managed to hide a bruise on her cheek and around her eye with heavy makeup. And now that I'm looking at her, I can see her neck is dotted with makeup covered bruises. More bruises that she didn't cover up are around her upper arm.
I will murder whoever did this to her with my bare fucking hands.
"Who? What did he look like? Did he have a toy with him?"
She stands on her toes and kisses my lips. Her soft touch calms me more. "Some guy with blond hair. He was just playing with me until he saw the gold lanyard in my hands. Then he ran off. I'm fine. I promise. Let's just forget about it, Lisa. I begged Dubois not to call you so please don't punish him."
I flick my gaze over my shoulder to see Dubois dusting himself off. He's back in his seat and tapping away on his computer. We've come to blows before, he and I. And despite being pissed at him, I know he has my best interest at heart. He'll find the motherfucker who did this. The determination in his eyes tells me so.
"What floor did this happen on?"
She chews on her lip and debates on whether or not to tell me. "Um, in the elevator."
I groan. There aren't cameras on the elevator or on the Black or penthouse floors for the discretion of our members. Had it happened anywhere else, I'd already know which fucker did this to her and have killed him.
"Lisa, I promise. I'm fine. It was my fault." Her smile is almost convincing. But it's so practiced that it scares me. She's done this before—convinced people with a charming, easy smile.
I'm not fucking convinced.
This was not her fault.
And I'll make it my mission to find out who did it so I can ruin them.
..
..
With Jennie's hand threaded in mine, we exit the elevator and walk toward the private dining room. Tonight, I asked Jackson and Irene to join us and told them to bring their toys as well—one of the perks to their jobs. Dubois has decided to stay back to research what happened while we go to dinner. I'm on edge and don't want to deal with Mark but it's inevitable.
"Lisa, buddy!" Mark's voice barks out as we enter the dark, swanky dining room. He stands from the table and strides over to us. "This must be Bunny."
His leering eyes are all over her and I want to stand in front of her to shield her from his stare. Her hand grows cold in mine and I know he intimidates her for some reason.
"Bunny, this is Mark. Mark, my toy."
He reaches for her hand to shake and when she reluctantly offers it, he draws her into a friendly hug. The asshole has been drinking and clearly doesn't know he's crossing the line at the moment. She cries out when he hugs her which has me jerking her back away from him.
"Hands off my toy." My voice is a low, threatening growl.
"Woah, I didn't mean to hurt her. I barely touched her. Are you okay, little peach?" he questions in faux concern.
Something about the way his eyes seem to lazily caress her skin makes me fucking crazy.
"No, uh," she stammers. "I'm a little sore from working out. You couldn't have known that."
She's playing the part. Hiding the beating she took earlier from some blond dipshit. If Mark didn't have dark brown hair, I'd have already killed him just because.
"I see," he says, a proud smile stretching over his lips. "Glad to see you work out. Toys should be in great shape for their masters. You and Lisa should come to Georgia sometime. The peaches there are fucking juicy and delicious."
She clutches onto my hand as if she's frightened of him and I want to punch him in the nose.
"Okay, Mark. That's enough. Let's see your toy."
He laughs and only stumbles slightly before making his way back over to the round table where everyone sits. All of the toys don their black lanyards and Jen proudly wears her gold one. I don't care if she's on my arm all night, that lanyard isn't leaving her neck again until we're on the airplane back to Seattle.
We take our seats and Mark slides an arm around the tiny brunette. Her eyes are dilated and she seems lost. I know the look. Bunny had the same far-off look when she was fucked up on heroin. It would seem Mark likes them this way. Cherry's lip is swollen and her neck is a mixture of bruises and hickeys.
Dinner is awkward. Jackson and Irene are both on their best behavior after the Kai fiasco. Both fear me as if at any minute I'll crawl over the table and beat the shit out of them too. They're safe though because as the night wanes on, the only asshole I want to kill is Mark.
Bunny of course dazzles everyone with her knowledge of current events and maintains her place as an equal whereas the other toys seem lost and confused. She's different. Always was. And now I'm proud of that fact.
"So," Mark slurs and nearly knocks over Cherry's wine glass. "Tell them what you like me to do, Cher-bear."
He must squeeze her thigh under the table because she yelps and for a brief moment fear flashes across her dull eyes when she glances my way. Bunny, clearly uncomfortable with the exchange, stiffens from beside me.
"I like when he hurts me." Cherry's response is robotic in nature.
"Excuse me," Bunny says suddenly as she stands, earning a nasty glare from Mark. "I need to visit the ladies room."
"Me too," Cherry blurts out.
Mark yanks Cherry back down into her seat. "Sit down, bitch. Piss on the floor for all I care."
Bunny doesn't waste any time in hauling ass out of the dining room.
"Mark, man. Let the toy go to the bathroom." I tell him, a firm, non-negotiating tone in my voice. He may be a paying customer but I don't like his attitude. At the end of the day, I call the shots around here.
He grunts and with an annoyed, clipped nod grants her permission to which Cherry flies out of her seat to get away from him. I study him as he watches her much like a lion would gaze upon the gazelle he's about to kill. It makes me want to choke him. I've gone from looking forward to meeting this client to ready to kill him all in the course of one day.
Distracting him from doing something stupid, I ask him about his campaign. For the next twenty minutes, he drones on about stuff I don't give a shit about.
What I do give a shit about is the fact that Mark reminds me a lot of myself. And unfortunately, I'm not liking this mirror glimpse of the bastard I am. We're sick individuals. We take pleasure on harming women. Humiliating them. Owning them.
Will it ever be enough?
Do sadistic fucks like us ever feel whole?
Every toy I've had has fulfilled wants but there's an underlying need that never seems to be completed no matter how perfect I mold them. My brain and dick are on fucking board twenty-four-seven but my chest aches for more.
With Jennie, she saturates herself into my pores. Her scent and laugh are seared into my mind. I'm confused and faltering with her. But she gives me the more I so desperately crave. The more I never quite understood was missing.
As Mark drones on, happy as fuck talking about himself, I stifle a smile. She may be changing who I am, but I don't feel weak. In some ways, it's as if I've been injected with power—injected with her and I love the feeling.
She may get high on street drugs.
But I'm high on her.
And I'm not looking to curb my addiction anytime soon.
..
..
Jennie
..
..
I'm pacing the bathroom in an attempt to kill time. Running into Mark has been a nightmare drudged up from the depths of hell. Every awful thing he's ever done to me is fresh and once again bleeding. Lisa. Drugs. Nothing will distract me from the pain that is ripping my heart apart. Thinking of Mark makes me think about her. Thinking about her makes me want to put a gun in my mouth and never look back.
Jesus, I miss her.
My hand goes to my belly as it does from time to time when I'm reminded of her. It's been over six years but sometimes I still imagine I can feel her inside kicking. Her name was Grace and she was mine. She made the hell I'd endured with Mark worth it. And as soon as she was born, I was going to run away with her. I would leave that life behind with my innocent baby girl.
But it didn't happen that way.
I'd been hiding in my closet one night, my place of refuge and solace, when he'd come in drunk. He beat the shit out of me, no surprise there. But when he dragged me to the top of the stairs and gave me a shove, I was shocked at his new low. Every step down, I tried to protect my seven month along unborn child. I knew if we could survive that fall, we could survive anything.
Yet, one of us didn't survive.
I desperately clutched onto my belly and despite the searing pain—despite all the blood gushing from me—I just knew everything would be okay. But she didn't kick or move. And even though I held out hope, I knew deep down what had happened.
The connection was gone.
Severed.
Lost.
All because of that monster.
When the ambulance arrived, I had already been prepped by my husband dearest with exactly what to say. It was an accident. I tripped and fell. Who wouldn't believe the beloved politician and his lovely wife?
The only reason I didn't go to the police about his murder was because he threatened to have my mother and brother killed. I had to heal and then I'd be gone. He wouldn't be able to hurt me or my family ever again. Before I left, my brother Sehun came to see me. He knew. Sehun knew I was a battered woman and he wanted to kill the sonofabitch. But Sehun, the sometimes unemployed black sheep of the family, couldn't do a thing about it. Mark would have buried him—ruined his entire life.
So one warm summer morning a few months after I lost Grace, I grabbed my passport, a small suitcase, all of my hate for Mark, and left for the UK. For the next six years, I hid from that man and did what I could to erase the pain of what he did to me.
And after all these years, I'm still afraid of him. I know how evil he can be. What he's done. What he took from me.
I'll die before I let that man take me back to Georgia.
I'm not the same woman who ran away.
This woman is slightly crazier. Unhinged. Capable of murder if it came to it.
My heart aches because deep down, I know Lisa will be a casualty. She'll be like my mom and my brother. The only way to save her will be to leave her. She has the money and means to protect me but so does Mark who will stop at nothing to have me back. I trust that he has the power and affiliates to bury Lalisa Manoban like he threatened. There's no doubt in my mind.
But not this time. I'm done letting him hurt me. I'll work on a way to leave Lisa as unscathed as possible and I'll find a way to survive again on my own. Away from the haunting memories.
A soft click of the bathroom door tells me someone has joined me. Terror freezes my veins as I worry that Mark has somehow sneaked in here with me. But, much to my delight, it's only Cherry.
Cherry reminds me so much of the old me, it hurts just looking at her.
"Are you okay?" she questions.
Her dark hair is styled in a way I used to wear mine. I know Mark chose her because she reminds him of me. My stomach sours with the realization that he probably hurts her like he did with me. Maybe even worse if he's punishing her for my leaving him.
"I should ask you the same. You're with that monster." My voice is even but sad.
She frowns and tears well in her green eyes that oddly match mine. "I agreed to this."
I think about my wedding. Gorgeous white dress. Eleven bridesmaids. Thousands of dollars spent on a plantation-style outdoor wedding. I agreed too. I vowed to love that man with everything I had.
But I broke my agreement the second he couldn't uphold his part of the deal.
"Well, just because you agreed to something, doesn't mean it's too late to get out of it," I tell her softly.
She approaches me and the fluorescent light in the bathroom does nothing to hide the bruises all over her. He's most definitely been using her as a punching bag.
"What did you agree to exactly anyway? I'm assuming you signed up to be a toy, right?"
Cherry nods and chews on her bottom lip. She seems young to me. Too young to be with the almost forty-year-old man. "I agreed to let him call me Jennie. Um, I agreed to let him be my dom for the weekend, even though I'm not really sure what that entails. I agreed to a high level of pain, per his additional requests." A shudder runs through her. Her voice is small, weak. Almost child-like. "Let's see, I uh, I dyed my hair to match the color swatch I was sent. I only did it because I needed the money. He's listed in a group of the Black Luxers which is in the highest paying quadrant."
I frown at her but let her continue.
"Anyway, I know it's weird—obviously you get it since you're a toy too—but what he offered to pay is enough to pay my entire first year's college tuition. My mom is a single parent working two jobs already and can't afford to send me to the college I want to attend. I figured one weekend would take the stress off of both of us where school's concerned."
Taking her hand, I rub the top of it. It's cold and clammy. I wish I had someone to help me back then. Some person who would have known what to do when it came to Mark. Sehun always wanted to help but he would have just ended up in prison for trying to kill him. With Mark, you have to be smart.
"Are you on something?" I recognize the glazed look in her eyes.
Her cheeks blaze in embarrassment. "Yeah, but I don't know what. He said it would help with the pain."
"Cherry, what's your real name?"
"Sana Minatozaki."
"And how old are you?"
I see fear flash in her eyes but I smile kindly at her. We're the same. She understands that, I can feel it.
"Promise you won't tell him or the owner girl you're with?"
I nod.
"I just turned seventeen a couple of months ago. I graduate from high school this spring."
My eyes widen. "Did you use a fake ID?"
She shakes her head. "Nobody ever asked for an ID. I told Mark how old I am. It seemed to please him even more. I just have to make it to Sunday night."
I huff and try not to lose my cool. Think, Jennie, think. "Baby, I'm sorry but that man is a monster. With men like him, you won't last long."
She's teary eyed but nods. I recognize the frustrated and helpless look. I'd seen it one too many times in the mirror.
"Listen, how much is tuition at your college?"
"Around twelve grand a semester."
Reaching for her, I tug her to me and hug her. "If you leave, right now, I'll wire you the entire four years' worth of tuition next month. I have a lump sum coming to me and I'll have the means to do it. If you stay, one thing will lead to another and you'll get sucked up into some nasty shit. Probably end up dead. I can't bear to watch that man hurt another soul."
She pulls away and tears stream down her face. "I don't understand. Why would you do that for me?"
I swallow. "Because I'm you. Ten years from now. Trust me, I'm good for the money. Jot down your address and phone number and I'll make sure it's done. I wish someone had looked after me long ago when I let a rich politician woo me out of my virginity and my life."
"Wow, I feel like this is a dream. You mean, I can just leave now? Like, I don't have to let him hurt me anymore?"
With a smile, I watch with satisfaction as she scribbles down her information on the back of a receipt from her purse. "Yes, Sana. You'll be safe. I'll get you out of here and tell Mark you went back up to the room because you weren't feeling well. If he tries to get up, I'll distract him. Come on."
I go to turn but before I do, she throws her hands around my neck and hugs me to her. I freeze for a moment, taken off guard by her affection. But when I hear her muffled "thank you," I hug her back, squeeze her actually, pleased that out of so many wrong decisions I've made from the time I was standing where Sana is, I finally made a right one.
I stuff her information down into my bra and then grab her hand. Together, we slip out of the bathroom quietly.
..
..
The drunk bastard has now taken to harassing Irene on the other side of him with his easy charm and handsome smile. Her relaxed posture as she leans her cleavage toward the asshole in order to bask in his fucking chocolate covered horror tells me that she can't sense the monster in the chair next to her. Poor Irene believes, like Lisa, he's a catch. A sexy, powerful, rich man who's an All-Star in the sack. More like a baseball bat wielding All-Star . . .
I sigh knowing that as soon as I sit back down next to Lisa, she'll be given a reprieve and might even become jealous to lose her attentions. The jerk will once again have his sights set on the one he lives to torment. She is merely an intermission. I'm the whole damn, epic production.
Me.
Jennie Lee.
His fucking wife.
"Everything okay, Bunny?" Lisa's voice is tight with anxiety which only deepens the cut inside my chest. When this is all over, I'll miss her. All of her moods. All of her flaws.
"Yes," I assure her and lean in for a kiss that she's clearly hungry for.
Her possessive mouth finds mine and her fingers slide into my hair, holding me in place as if she's afraid I'll flee at any moment.
"Where's Cherry?" Mark's voice is a nasty snarl that has Lisa breaking our kiss to jerk her gaze to him.
"Oh," I tell him with a wave of my hand as if it's no big deal. "She wasn't feeling well. I told her to go on up to the hotel room and that I'd let you know." The lie easily flies past my lips but when Lisa slides her hand over my thigh, I know she senses my deception.
Mark glares at me. The hate in his eyes sickens me. I've seen the look one too many times right before he would hit me with the back of his knuckles or shove me into a wall. I bet those knuckles are itching to do that very thing right now. He enjoys watching me cower under his evilness. And usually I do.
But something about having Lisa's pulsating power beside me gives me strength. I fuel the feelings with hate about what he's done to me. This woman beater won't win this round. The table grows silent and I fidget under Mark's gaze but I refuse to look away. I may not be able to say anything to Lisa, but I'll get my digs in where I can. With a tiny smirk, I wink at the man.
"You stupid bitch." His words are quiet, almost inaudible.
"Excuse the fuck out of me?" Lisa's voice is nothing but a violent hiss. Her body ripples with fury beside me.
Mark becomes enraged, ignoring the impending storm that is Lisa, and springs from his chair quick enough to cause it to knock over. Lisa and Jackson both jump from their seats; Jackson in a defensive move and Lisa in one that's offensive.
"You stupid goddamned bitch! You sent my toy away without my permission?! Who the fuck do you think you are?!"
Lisa doesn't hesitate.
She doesn't ask questions.
She charges at Mark with all the fury I wish I could unleash. With a crunch, Lisa hits Mark with a powerful fist that lands square in his nose. The pop of his nose breaking is a sick sound yet I find myself smiling. I want Lisa to break him. All of him. Every fucking part of him. Just like he broke me.
Another crack of Lisa's fist against Mark's face. Time has slowed and I thank God for allowing me to enjoy how Lisa hurts him. What seems like minutes is only a matter of seconds before Jackson pulls Lisa away. Her hand is bloodied and when she turns back to regard me, her face is contorted into that of a beast.
Furious.
Psychotic.
Murderous.
And I love it.
Confusion paints her features at seeing my smile. My smile grows wider with every step she takes toward me. She doesn't understand why I'm happy she beat down Mark and she'll never know for sure but with my smile I tell her what my mouth can't say.
The link that connects us thrums with understanding.
"Come on, Bunny," She says with a demanding growl as she helps me to my feet. "I'm worked up and need to fuck what's mine."
Her warm hand envelops mine and she all but drags me away from the scene she's left Jackson to deal with. We don't speak but with sporadic squeezes of my hand, I let her know how much I appreciate what she's done for me—something my father should have done a long time ago.
As we ride the elevator, I think back to the first time Mark got rough with me. My parents had him over for dinner and all was going well until Dad offered him some whiskey. I'd actually met Mark in the first place through my dad when I was still in high school. With my dad being an influential judge in Atlanta, the two had met at a political charity event and hit it off. He'd brought that man home to meet me with every intention of pairing me with Mark Lee, the man who had potential to do something great for this country. Dad wanted on that coattail and using his daughter as bait seemed an ideal solution.
"Have you decided on a date yet? Everyone keeps asking me. Is that rock on your finger blinding you from looking at a fucking calendar?"
I'm startled by his harsh tone and rush over to him. Mom had already gone to check on the peach cobbler she made while Dad pretended not to notice our exchange.
"Mark, what's wrong? We talked about this. I was waiting to see what my college workload was before we set anything in stone. I'm still waiting on them to post the available classes for the spring semester."
He's angry and I don't understand why. This isn't anything new to him.
"I asked you to be my wife six months ago, Peach, and here you are still dragging your feet. If you don't want to marry me then say so," he says in a harsh whisper.
Tears well in my eyes and I reach for him to comfort him. He's clearly angry and it doesn't make sense. I yelp when he digs his fingers into my bicep and drags me to him.
"Mark," I murmur, "you're hurting me."
His eyes darken and he grips me harder. "And you're hurting me."
My eyes dart to my father and we hold each other's stare before he looks away to sip on his whiskey. The betrayal knifes through me. Am I the one in the wrong here?
"Mark . . ."
"April fourth. That's when we're getting married."
He releases the punishing grip he had on me and stalks back over toward my father leaving me a shuddering mess. What just happened?
As the memory fades, the bitterness remains. My father watched with uninterested eyes as his future son-in-law abused his only daughter. Although it started as verbal and emotional, the signs were clear as day. Yet he did nothing. He had a chance to stop something from snowballing into what it later became. I was young and naïve. I'd eventually followed my father and overlooked Mark's unusual behavior, chalking it up to the whiskey.
Mark loved me.
It was a one-time thing.
He'd never hurt me.
My naivety is almost laughable. Almost. However, there's nothing laughable about losing your unborn child because your husband was a psychopath.
Nothing funny at all.
..
..
..