Page 57 of The Bad Girl

She walks brazenly into my waiting arms, with none of the hesitation she would have had a week ago. I sling an arm around her, over her shoulder, and hold my phone out to Eliza.

“Would you mind snapping a pic?” I ask as the pretty redhead recoils with a look of scorn.

“Ah fuck, Eliza,” Harlow bellows, “there’s plenty of other women that would love to tend to my guests if you’ve suddenly become too good for my clientele.”

At that, Eliza snatches my phone from my hands, holding it out in front of her. “Say cheese,” she says, and right after she presses the button, she tosses my phone over the side of the boat.

The entire deck full of people jolt up, stunned, disbelieving that the boat equivalent of a hoodrat just threw one of the richest men in the world’s phone over the side of the boat.

“Holy FUCK, Eliza! You’re never gonna get the chance to suck an ATM again, not with how ya just handled that!”

I snicker at the crass yet popular term he uses to describe rich playboys like myself.

“Suck their pricks yourself!” Eliza shouts back before storming below deck.

Mike T’s already shed his shirt and shoes. “Want me to go get it, boss?”

“If you would be so kind.”

Being obscenely rich offers me access to technology not on the general market. For example, my phone floats, it’s waterproof for up to one hour submerged, and it can run for days on a single charge.

Mike T. piles his clothes on the floor, holstered gun on top, and jumps over the rail. It takes less than a minute for him to retrieve the phone and climb back up the side of the boat.

“You’re a good man, Mike. There’s a reward in this for you.”

“Just doing my job.”

He extends my phone out to me, but before I can grab it, Johnson intercepts.

“Not so fast,” he says, and it takes me a moment to realize that in his other hand, he’s holding Mike T’s gun.

“Johnson,” Harlow says in a voice brimming with anxiety, “what the heck is going on here, man?”

“You,” he points the gun to Nadine, and I instinctively step in front of her to act as a shield. “You got a phone on ya?”

“No, she doesn’t. I took it from her this morning. It’s in my office. Standard procedure”

Oddly, it’s the truth. We usually do take people’s cell phones and electronic devices before they’re allowed to mingle with high-profile money men.

He gestures with the gun, pointing it below deck. “Go to your cabin. Don’t come out until you’re told.”

“Roger that,” I say, knowing it’s better to listen to the man with the gun than to ask questions.

Harlow’s voice cuts across the tension. “Johnson, we can talk about this—”

A shot rings out, and suddenly Nadine launches herself into my arms. I look over to see a hole in the seat next to Harlow. I breathe a sigh of relief and pull Nadine below deck and into the awaiting cabin.