Using my imagination, I envision her on her knees with my hand latched on her hair, forcing her to take every inch and girth of my cock. The fear in her eyes is stark, yet just beyond the layer of fear it’s clear that she feels desire and need. I continue pumping my fist as the image of her bent before me circulates through my mind. It takes no more than eight strokes, and I’m spurting my releasing on the wall of my shower. Turning, I finish showering to get ready for the damn party I’m being forced to attend.
When I’m clean, I step out of the shower and see myself in the mirror. I can't help the disgust that swamps me. I’m covered in scars left behind by a man full of greed and malice. The same man that was supposed to love and protect me, only he didn’t, and he paid the ultimate price for every permanent mark he left on my flesh.
I strike out hard and fast, shattering the glass with my fists before turning and leaving the office, grabbing my extra suit and getting dressed. Once my formal wear is on my body, I feel as if the walls are constricting and closing in on me. To complete my outfit, I grab my hat, placing it on my unruly hair before shoving my way out of my office.
“Mr. Broz, is everything okay?” my secretary asks, standing quickly from my abrupt exit.
“Fine. Hold my calls, it seems as if I have plans tonight,” I say, throwing the words over my shoulder, not slowing my stride.
“Yes, sir,” she rushes out, acknowledging my command.
Getting onto the waiting elevator, I tilt my head so that I can hide my face from onlookers. When the doors slide open, I quicken my pace and walk through the lobby, and out into the cool, Atlanta air. There are people moving around me, not realizing that with one quick movement, they could be dead in an instant with the snap of my fingers. They presume because I’m standing here in a three-thousand-dollar suit, doesn’t mean I’m not lethal… deadly. One’s appearance doesn’t make them any better than a meth addict on the street, ready to flay someone for their next fix. Movement from the corner of my eye has me turning to see one of my black SUVs squeal to a stop in front of me.
“Figured I’d be here ahead of time in case you were ready to head out early.” My second smirks at me, a sign that’s sending out blaring signals, telling me that he is indeed in the pocket of the Boss.
I glare his way because this man is on my very long list of men that need to be taken care of… permanently. Pulling the door of the SUV open, I step into it not bothering to speak to the man, he doesn’t deserve that type of respect from me. He pulls away from the curb, heading out of the city, driving into the billion-dollar side of Atalanta. Grinding my teeth, I don’t say anything, knowing at this point, with the turmoil flowing through me, that if I leave this party without murdering someone, it’ll be a God-given miracle.
After about forty-five minutes, we pull up to a large gate that has so much energy running through the steel that you can hear the hum of the electricity. When we stop at the gate, my second rolls his window down to speak to the guard standing sentry at the entrance. They chat briefly about who the hell knows what until we’re pulling through the iron gate. As we round the last corner of the driveway, and the house comes into view, I can’t help but roll my eyes at the cookie-cutter home.
The house’s construction is exactly like every other home lining the streets of the neighborhood. Too fucking big and colorless. Perfect on the outside but laced with horrors that your nightmares can’t even imagine taking place on the inside. As we pull up to the front of this monstrosity, several men step forward to open our doors. I move out from the enclosure, making sure my hat is set on my head, angled exactly as it should be to keep up the appearance of my professional disguise.
“Welcome, Mr. Broz, we are delighted to have you here with us tonight.” The one man bows as he’s been instructed to do with arriving guests.
I give him a stiff nod and walk up the stairs, heading my way into my own personal hell. I step through the door and into an all-white marbled foyer with men and women dressed to the nines. I shake hands and nod at those who draw near me as I make my way to the bar, ready to order my favorite whisky and drown out the fact that I’m here, forced to kiss ass. Halfway across the room, the boss spots me and approaches me with a wide smile.
“Well, well. It seems that you’ve decided to grace us with your presence after all,” he says, pulling me into a hard, backbreaking hug, whispering, “Don’t fuck this up. There are men from other families and businesses in attendance. Be on your best behavior.”
I give him my brightest, fake smile, and state, “Oh whatever do you mean? I’m always on my best behavior. I can’t wait to meet all these amazing people.”
The boss eyes me wearily. Good, he should be weary of me and the trouble that is coming his way. I finally get past him and make it to the bar where I order that glass of whisky I’ve been craving. As I wait for it to be poured, I turn, eyeing the men in the room, picking out the ones that I do in fact, need to speak with in the hopes that I can sway them my way. Just as my eyes make their scan across the room for the fourth time, I spot the absolute last person I would’ve ever thought to see, not only in this home, but dressed to impress.
CHAPTERSEVEN
EVORA
I’m puttingthe finishing touches on my makeup as someone knocks on my door. Coming out of the bathroom, I stop to pull my six-inch heels on, and place my coat around my shoulders as I cross the room and make my way to the door. I open it and relax a fraction seeing one of his men and not the man I despise standing there.
“It’s time to go. He’s waiting in the car,” he states matter of factly, before turning on his heels, expecting me to follow him like a good girl.
That’s exactly what I do. No point in causing a fuss now when I plan to find my escape at whatever this god forsaken event is that we’re attending. Once we’re in the hallway, and making our way down the corridor, I realize we’re staying in a hotel. That’s a bit of a surprise seeing as he usually rents a home if he’s staying anywhere for more than one night. Stepping out from the mouth of the hallway, I can’t stop the gasp that leaves me.
There is a wall of windows directly across from me where you can see the most beautiful, breathtaking, and enchanting sight of downtown Atlanta. The skyline draws me in, hypnotizing me to the point that everything falls away, and all I can think about is what the breeze would feel like brushing against my skin from this high up in the air. The clearing of a throat pulls my eyes away from the windows and directs my attention to the man of my nightmares, where he’s standing in the middle of the room. I was so caught up by the view that I didn’t even notice he was there.
“That view is almost as beautiful as you are, Mouse.'' His grin is pure evil.
Deciding that if I open my mouth, what might come out would get me into trouble. Therefore, I keep my lips tightly sealed, and stay quiet. He holds his hand out to me, and I swallow back the contents of my stomach that are trying to expel my food, inhaling deeply to center myself and help keep my nerves in check. I walk over, taking his hand in mine so that we can move along and get this night the hell over with. He leads me further into the foyer where we are met with the doors to the elevator. He slides a scan card over a sensor, which causes the doors to slide open after it beeps.
Damn, that means that I have one of two options. One, figure out how to escape while at this event we are currently heading toward, or two, figure out how to get my hands on that key card. When we step into the elevator, I plaster on the practiced smile that I’ve perfected, ready to play my part until I can get the hell out of here.
It takes us about forty-five minutes to get to where the event is taking place, and to say that this house is huge is an understatement. As we make our way up the driveway and into the building, I realize just how out of my element I am. I’m not a glamorous gown type of lady, I’m not proper, I’m a pj and sweatpants kinda girl. I turn to glance at him, noticing how he’s looking at the estate with wide eyes, like me.
Seeing the awe plastered on his face makes the fear I’ve been fighting ignite in a way that I can’t pretend to put an end to. If he is in amazement of this place, and the guests here, then that means they have to be as bad, if not worse, than the monster I’m on the arm of.
“You best not embarrass me tonight, Mouse. This deal is the biggest one of our lives.” He grabs ahold of my arm, squeezing it hard enough that tomorrow there’ll be an outline of bruises from his fingertips adorning my skin.
Turning to him, I smile wide, and insist, “I would never dream of embarrassing you dear.”
He narrows his eyes, frowning at me, before turning away and stepping out as the door opens.
