Arranged love

TITAN

I ENTER THE meat locker that’s underground. The room where we dish out our beatings in. Grave stands off to the far corner with his phone in his hands, typing away. Cross sits in a chair to the left, flipping his Zippo open and closed. Bones isn’t here. He left earlier this morning for New York. I’m not sure if it was to see Mr. Bianchi, Luca’s father, or his fuck.

“What do we have?” I snap, popping my knuckles.

Why did I let her words affect me? I don’t give a fuck who she spreads her legs for. I’m not sure which is worse-the fact that he’s paying her for sex, or that she would willingly give it up.

I want her.

You had her mouth, my mind screams, but that wasn’t enough. I thought it would be, but it’s all I’ve thought about.

“Robert Jenkins,” Grave says, pocketing his phone and pushing off the wall. “Card counter. Cleared almost a hundred grand this month alone.”

I look over at the guy sitting at the table in the middle of the room. His head is down, and his arms are restrained behind his back. He’s young, maybe twenty-five. I’ve seen the kid on the security cameras. He’s known on the Strip because he hits casino after casino, but he’s not really on the radar. There are thieves out here that clear more, but I’m in a mood tonight. Too bad for him. “Untie him,” I order.

Grave undoes the rope, and Robert rubs his sore wrists. I pull up a chair and spin it around across from him at the table. I sit on it backward, straddling the chair. “Can I get you anything? A water? A beer?”

He looks up at me, his blue eyes shooting from mine to Cross, who still sits in his chair behind me. “I …”

“A room for the night?” I go on.

He tilts his head to the side, his confusion deepening. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.” He holds up his hands in surrender.

No doubt he’s heard about us. “What is it you want me to do?” I cross my arms on the back of the chair. His eyes scan my tattoos before they land back on mine. “Allow you to keep the money and walk out the front door?”

“It wasn’t that much,” he argues.

Grave throws a handful of Kingdom chips onto the table. Some roll off to the floor. Bending down, I pick one up and run my fingers over it. It’s a thousand-dollar chip. Black and gold. Kingdom is written across it along with a crown. “Is this all of it?” I ask Grave.

“Yep. Stopped him as he was trying to cash out.”

“I’ll leave,” Robert says. “You can have it all.”

I smirk, rolling the chip between my fingers. “How thoughtful.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“To steal from us,” I interrupt him, my eyes meeting his.

He swallows nervously, and sweat beads across his forehead. I watch his hands shake when he runs them down his face. “Counting cards isn’t illegal,” he finally says.

I throw my head back and laugh. The sound filling the room. Grave and Cross do the same.

Robert begins to follow, but he sounds unsure of what is going on.

“What if I shove these chips up your ass? Is that illegal?” I ask, holding it out in front of his face.

His laughter immediately dies. “Is … is that a trick question?”

I smirk and stand, shoving the chair to the side. He sits up straighter, eyes darting around the room.

“This is illegal!” He slaps the table as his fear gets the best of him. “You’re keeping me against my will.” He jumps to his feet.

“Sit your ass down.” Grave shoves him forward and back into his chair.

“You can’t do this!” he cries.

“We already are.”

He runs his hands through his hair frantically while he rocks back and forth. “I …” He laughs nervously. “What are you going to do to me? Kill me?” His shaky hands point at the chips. “You have the money. Keep it.”

“Oh, it’s not leaving here,” I inform him. “Not with you anyway.”

EMILEE

I sit at a table in the back of a restaurant on the fiftieth floor of a casino just down the street from Kingdom. The guy to my right is Jacob French-my job for the night.

He seems nice enough even though he hasn’t spoken to me much. Once I got into the limo at Kingdom, he spent most of the short drive on his phone with his wife. It was more awkward than anything. He told his children good night and that he loved them. He had a bottle of champagne on ice but didn’t offer me any. I didn’t take offense. The info outlining my night informed me that I was limited to two drinks while in his presence.

I feel like we’ve lost centuries of women’s rights-a man telling a woman what she can and can’t do. He should have had me cover up my face entirely and just showed my tits.

I’m on my second martini at the moment and already contemplating ordering another one. My nervousness has disappeared, and now I’m just wishing this night would end. Mr. French owns several companies. Mason Sikes, his business partner, sits across from me with a woman on his right who looks high as a kite. Her brown eyes are glazed over, and she’s drunk nothing but water. She must be on ecstasy. A guy sits on the opposite side of the woman. It’s his son. His green eyes keep falling to my exposed breasts. He seems to be the biggest scumbag at the table.

I down what’s left of my drink, and he raises his hand, signaling our waiter. He comes over and bends down so the guy can whisper in his ear. He looks at my drink and nods.

I act like I didn’t see the exchange. Instead, I pull my cell out of my purse and notice a text.

Jasmine: Call me the moment you get home, bitch. I want the deets.

I hate to tell her it’s not going to be as interesting as she’s expecting.

“Here you go, ma’am.” The waiter places the new drink in front of me.

“Thank you,” I say softly and quickly hand him the empty one. Jacob will see the drinks on the tab for sure. But what’s he going to do to me?Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

“You looked like you needed another,” the young kid says from across the table, handing the woman an alcoholic drink as well.

“It looks like she’s had enough,” I add, noting it’s her first one.

He smiles. “No such thing. Some women need the encouragement.”

So the guy is trying to fuck his father’s date. “Prick,” I say under my breath.

His smirk just grows. Obviously, he heard me and thought it was cute. I push my chair back. “Excuse me.” All the guys start to stand for my dismissal, but I walk away before they can.

“Excuse me, where is the restroom?” I ask the woman standing in the corner. She’s been watching our table like a hawk. Per her job. Anytime one of the guys gets low on anything, she sends our waiter over. I saw Jacob pass her a hundred the moment she seated us.

“Down that hall and the last door on the right.” She points to the far right.

“Thank you.” I make my way into the women’s restroom and close the door behind me. I lean my back against the door and close my eyes. I’ve only had two drinks, and I’m feeling them. Hard. The bartender doesn’t play around here. Maybe that’s why Jacob has me on a two-drink limit.

My head is starting to spin, and my eyes are tired. That could be due to the lack of sleep I had last night. My concern for my date had gotten the best of me. Now I realize I had nothing to worry about. I’m here strictly for arm candy. I’ve not been spoken to directly, and that bothers me more.

Guess it could be worse. Jacob could have taken me to a sex club and expected me to perform in front of his colleagues while they recorded it. Which brings me to a thought. I don’t remember seeing anything about videos being prohibited while on a date on the application. I’ll have to ask Titan about that next time I see him.

That’s one thing I don’t like about the Queens. The men tell you what you can and can’t wear, but they don’t tell you what to expect on your date. Or where you’re even going. Just the pickup and timeframe of it, along with your requirements and restrictions.

I use the restroom and wash my hands. I open the door to be greeted by the kid himself. “Oh.” I jump back, before almost running into him. He stands in the middle of the hallway, blocking my way back to the table. “Excuse me.” I go to walk around, but he steps to the side, blocking me once again. I start to get aggravated. “Can I help you?” I growl.

He smirks, his eyes looking me up and down. “I think you can.” He reaches for me, but I take a step back out of his reach.

“I’m not here for you.” I straighten my shoulders. “If you would please …”

He steps into me, pushing my back into the wall between the restrooms. “How much?” he asks, running his knuckles up and down my bare arm.

I pull away the best I can. “Excuse me?”

“How much do you cost for the night?”

I gasp at his audacity. “You son of a-”

“Careful,” he interrupts me with a chuckle. This prick is enjoying himself. “I know you’re not his wife. And I also know that Jacob pays for his women.”

The hairs on the back of my neck rise. I never stopped to think of what others would think of me out with my date. Did I honestly think I would come off as a long-lost lover? A girlfriend? What if someone tells his wife I was with him? How would I explain that he paid for me? And who the hell would believe it wasn’t sexual?

“See …” He lifts his right hand and cups my cheek. I slap it away, and he grips my chin, shoving the back of my head into the wall, digging his fingers into my skin painfully. He lowers his face to mine. I can smell the liquor on his breath. “You are nothing but a whore. And all whores have a price. So name yours.”

My body shakes but not from fear. Anger. How dare this kid speak to me this way? “Fuck you,” I say through clenched teeth.

With a snort, he places his free hand on my hip, then yanks me to him. “I will. One way or another.”

I slam my fists into his chest, and he lets go of me. Taking a few steps back, he slides his eyes over me one last time before he walks into the men’s bathroom to my left laughing.

After spending a second to collect myself, I make my way back to the table. I plop down in my seat and pick up my drink. This date can’t end soon enough.