Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Camille,” Evander says, his tone totally calm. The men sitting at his table look bewildered. The guy in the middle plucks a fifty from his head and blinks like he’s never seen anything like it before. His red face somehow gets redder. “Turn around and walk away.”
I consider my options. I’ve clearly just blown this meeting for him, and a part of me feels guilty—I don’t know how important this was, but I got the feeling it was a pretty big deal based on the few vague comments he made the night before.
But the other part of me basks in his embarrassment. I want to humiliate him the way he humiliated me when he left that money.
“Apologize,” I say and jab a finger at him. “Apologize right now, Evander Kazan, or I swear—”
“You’ll what?” He comes around the table and looms over me. “Throw another gift in my face? Spit on my generosity one more time?” He turns his back on me and I reel away like he whipped a hand across my face. “Gentlemen, I apologize for this display. I will deal with her and come back. Lycus, please take over.”
“Yeah, okay, Evander.” Lycus, the dark Greek-looking guy, grins at us like he’s having the best time in the world.
Evander turns back and grabs me by the arm. I try to pull away, but his grip is like iron. His voice drops to a deadly whisper as he says, “Come with me right now, or I swear I will break both your knees right here and now, just to prove I can.”
I swallow, meet his eyes, and believe him.
I really shouldn’t have thrown that money.
Evander drags me from the dining room. I keep pace, fear taking over from the angry embarrassment I felt a few seconds ago.
It occurs to me that yes, I definitely went a little too far, and something else nags at my thoughts.
He called the money his generosity. He called it a gift.
Did I misread that situation?
No, that’s not possible… he left cash by the bed. That’s what guys do when they’re paying hookers.
Right?
I’m starting to feel dizzy as he shoves me into an empty private room and turns on me, his face contorted with rage. “What the fuck was that, Camille?”
I back away from him and bump into a table. “You left money,” I say, feeling stupid. “On the nightstand.”
“Yes, I did, because I know you’re in trouble and there’s no way in hell those credit cards you stole are still working.”
“I didn’t steal them,” I mutter and rub my face. “Wait, you weren’t paying me?”
“Paying you for what?” he asks, throwing his hands up.
“For the sex.”
And his face goes slack. His hands lower.
And he laughs.
The motherfucker laughs at me, and suddenly, the anger’s flooding back.
“No, I wasn’t paying you, my god,” he says, shaking his head and chuckling. “Is that what you thought? You thought I was treating you like a hooker?”
“You left money on the nightstand after we had sex all night,” I say through my teeth. “You’re really going to stand there and tell me that’s a crazy thing to think?”
He hesitates as his chuckle fades away. “Maybe not, but it still doesn’t excuse your behavior.”
“You could’ve left a note. You could’ve woken me up and explained. You could’ve done a million things, but what you did do was leave a bunch of cash by the bedside like you were paying me for services rendered. Do you have any clue how humiliating that felt?” My cheeks are bright red and tears gather in my eyes. I will not cry for this man, but I hate him right now, hate him so much.
After everything I did, after how hard I worked to escape Christopher, only for this to happen.
To be treated like flesh.
Like nothing but a body all over again.
He shakes his head. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“It was mortifying. Fucking mortifying. I’ve never, ever slept with a man the way I slept with you last night and to wake up to find money on the nightstand was like a slap in the face. You took away any shred of dignity I had left and spit all over it.”
He’s silent for a long moment, studying me with that intense look of his.
I feel exposed, but I wrap myself in my anger and hold it tightly. Maybe I misunderstood his intent, but that doesn’t change what he did and how it made me feel.
Evander’s all but a stranger, and he doesn’t owe me a damn thing, but I am so freaking tired of letting men walk all over me.
For years, I took shit from Christopher. I took my abuse, my pain and my misery, and I swallowed it all down.
Yeah, I got mouthy, but I didn’t do anything about it.
Until yesterday.
I’m not staying quiet anymore. Even if it gets me into trouble—I will speak my mind. I will never swallow my feelings, not ever again.