Page 23

TWENTY-TWO

MISTAKE

NICOLETTE

O ne hand goes to my throat, pinning in place as he squeezes just enough that I go immovably still. As soon as he sees that I have, he releases my right. Before I can break free, he shoves his hands down my shorts. I gasp, and he grabs my whole damn pussy. His middle finger jabs me repeatedly, digging for my entrance as I do nothing but take it.

He places his cheek against mine. “Someone paid ten grand for this pussy. I’m gonna see for myself what makes it so fucking special. And you? You’re going to let me.”

No I’m fucking not .

Thanks to Kieran, fourteen-year-old Nicolette would have.

Sixteen-year-old Nicolette would have.

Even twenty-year-old Nicolette would have.

But the Nicolette who finally broke it off with her abuser? Who finally got a taste of what it was like to be with someone who saw her as a person and not just her pussy?

Going still as he violated me is instinctive. Fucker thinks that means that I’m welcoming this, welcoming him , and he pays more attention to fingering me than he does to my expression.

That’s his mistake.

At this moment, I’m reminded of the first time I was ever intimate with Royce. How he kissed me in the supply room, squeezing my ass before we ended in a position fairly similar to this. There’s one big difference, though. Even when he was just my boss, I was with him the whole way. He checked in with me before he touched me, and when he did? He was gentle. Seductive. He didn’t just jam his hands down my shorts and try to fuck me with his finger like this asshole did.

And that’s why I didn’t rear back my legs and knee him in the fucking nuts like I do this handsy bastard.

His nails scratch the sides of my throat as he rips his hand back, body folding up like a metal chair. Miles lets out a howl as he drops, cupping his cock as he starts screaming unintelligible threats at me.

For a moment, I rub my neck, glaring at him through a sheen of hate-filled tears.

I’m so fucking pissed that he made me cry. That he cornered me at my place of work, and that I naively thought that the big-shot customer wouldn’t give up on his fixation with me just because Royce beat him at poker.

If anything, that’s more of a reason why he’d come after me again. After harassing me for weeks, I finally relented enough to give sex work another try. There was no connection. He’s handsome in that blandly, manicured way that older men with money have, but I wasn’t attracted to him, either. Whether I used one of the rooms upstairs like the other girls or went to a hotel with him instead, I was fucking him for money. When he didn’t have it, I didn’t go home with him—and he’s probably been stewing over it ever since.

Royce won me. Since then, I’ve found myself falling deeper and deeper for him. He went from being my boss and my savior to my lover. I choose to be with him. There’s not enough money in the world to get me to cheat on him because this is the relationship I’ve waited my entire life to have.

And this asshole tried to ruin it for me.

It’s not about me anymore, though. This is revenge, plain and simple. Royce won. He won that poker game, he won a night out with me, and though he never cashed it in the way that Miles would’ve expected, he won my heart. Big shots like Miles feel like the world owes them everything. Royce won, but Miles thought he should.

Once he recovers, he’s coming after me. I can see it in his face. Only the force of my knee into his crotch is saving me right now, and I’m not about to stick around and let him get back to his feet.

I don’t even bother grabbing my bag. My phone’s in there, so is my money and the key card that would let me into Paradise Suites. Just now? I don’t give a shit.

If I jog, I can make it to my mother’s place in twenty minutes. I have a spare key hidden where even Kieran won’t find out, and an alarm system that should keep anyone out.

And, calming myself just enough to tell the first waitress I bump into that I was puking in the bathroom and need to go home sick, I bolt from the Playground.

ROYCE

As I speed across downtown Springfield, I’m about to lose my fucking mind.

Nicolette didn’t go home, and by that I mean no one at the Suites has seen her since she left for her shift abruptly about an hour ago. With her purse, phone, and wallet left behind at the Playground, I have no way to reach her—and no idea what where she is.

I knew I should have blown off my duties today. I never do, and when I watched Nicolette pull on her Playground uniforms earlier today, something in my gut told me I should—but I didn’t listen. Instead, I dropped her off at the club, then went out to take care of business.

It’s been a day from hell already. Part of this ‘truce’ we have going on means that, when I catch a young Dragonfly peddling their shit on the West Side, I grit my teeth and turn my head. At the end of the day, customers will buy their dope whether I try to stop them or not. Breeze is the drug of choice this winter. Like a hopped-up E, it’s for partying, making its users loose and hot and reckless.

Link thinks we can take advantage of that. Our girls need johns. The Playground needs partiers. Breeze has boosted business which is habitually slow this time of year.

But it also makes some of our wallets super fucking stupid.

Burns tipped us off about something that happened in the bathrooms the other night. One of the cops on Link’s payroll, he let us know that the handful of straight-and-narrow cops looking into Breeze have traced it to the Playground. Some sergeant’s kid took too much and found himself in an uncompromising position before his buddies dragged him out. Burns was chuckle when he describe the kid bruising his cock by trying to fuck a urinal, and I’m just glad that none of the Playground’s staff had to deal with that.

Of course, that means I had to fix that problem. The kid’s dick will heal, but the sergeant was pissed off when he discovered Breeze was flowing freely. He threatened to bring in a task squad to clean us out, and I had to smooth things over to get the cop off our backs.

Adding him to Link’s payroll helped, but it was annoyingly tedious.

The vice mayor was waiting for his monthly pay-off, and I had to deal with that, too. I checked in with Jake. Went to the dinner with Link, Damien, Mayor Harrison, and the twink he’s currently fucking—oh, sorry. I mean, his aide .

By the time I’m done for the night and I got to the Playground, all I wanted was a stiff drink and a second alone with Nic. She was on schedule from six to two, so my midnight arrival meant she should’ve been there.

But she wasn’t .

Jessie thought I knew. When I arrived and Nic wasn’t there, she figured that I had to know. Chloe was the one who tipped her off. Something about how Nicolette was puking in the bathroom and had to leave early, but she was in such a rush that not only did she sidestep informing the floor manager she had to go, but she abandoned all of her belongings in the backroom.

One look at my face and, fuck. I didn’t hide it. I’m usually so good at keeping a straight face—that’s the gambler in me—but when she said Nicolette left her stuff behind… her money behind… I didn’t hide it all. Jessie chased me all over the club as I checked to see if anyone saw her leave—and if she left alone.

The guys at the door confirmed it. She left by herself, heading down the street. They assumed she was going to get her car, but how could she? I dropped her off. Her car’s parked in the Suites’ parking deck, and her keys were in her purse.

So was her key card to my place, but that didn’t stop me from dashing home anyway to check once I also got confirmation that Nic walked out of the club alone. Not only that, but everyone on staff knows better than to let Kieran Alfieri in. I’ll have Tanner check security footage just in case—but, first, I needed to find my girl.

She wasn’t at my home. Hoping like hell that meant she returned to the only other place in Springfield she felt secure behind her camera, I headed right for her mother’s house.

My heart skips a beat when I see the living room light on.

I park my car in the middle of the street. I’m usually a lot more careful than this. When I was watching over Nic… I did everything I could to keep from catching her neighbor’s attention.

Not tonight. Not when I’ve spent the worst fucking forty minutes of my life, worrying about her. Even if what Chloe said was true, even if Nicolette got food poisoning from lunch or something, it doesn’t matter. She could’ve contacted me.

She didn’t.

I thought I made it clear. From the moment I called her mine, I meant it. It doesn’t matter how fucking busy I am or what I’m doing. My phone is on. Even if I missed a call, the second I was free, I’d get back to her. But I didn’t have a single missed call from Nicolette, and she vanished on me.

Maybe if I wasn’t waiting for Alfieri to test my hand. To leave the safety of the East End and try me. I specifically didn’t mention the little problem I’m having with one of his enforcers to Damien over dinner today. I figured, if the head of the Libellula Family knew what kind of game his enforcer was playing, he might slip up. If not, I don’t want to fill him in in case I have to take care of him.

I should’ve known better. Damien didn’t give anything away, and my hands are still tied when it comes to that bastard.

And now, while I was busy playing nice with our rivals and the mayor, something set off Nicolette?

I’m a fixer. Goddamn it, I’ll fix this .

I leave my car at the curb, right in front of her house. It’s in direct view of her surveillance cameras so, if she’s watching them, she’ll know I’m here before I get to the door. The air bites as I slide out of the car. It’s only as I stalk toward the front door that I realize I left my suit jacket behind somewhere.

Oh, well.

I grab the doorknob. I’m not super surprised that it’s locked, though I had hoped Nic saw me coming and let it open. It’s not. I rattle it to get her attention, then wait a few seconds. When she doesn’t call out that she’s coming, I raise my voice and shout, “Nicolette? I know you’re in there. Open up. It’s me.”

No answer.

Fuck no. I slap the door with the flat of my hand. “Nic, baby? I’m not playing. Open this door or I’m going to open it for you. Okay? Don’t lock me out. Not me.”

Still nothing.

Well. She can’t say I didn’t warn her.

“On the count of three, I’m gonna kick the door down. I’ll replace it, but if you’re in trouble, I’m not staying out of it. Yeah? Yeah. Okay. One. Two?—”

The doorknob rattles from her side. “Holy shit, Royce. Don’t kick it. I’m trying to get it unlocked.”

I clench my teeth and step away from the door, waiting for it to open.

When it does, I walk right inside before she can stop me before whirling around on her. My mouth opens—and not a single damn word comes out.

Up until the moment I arrived at her house, I knew there had to be a different reason. Whatever happened, it wasn’t what she told Chloe. I was sure of that. But when I see her red, puffy eyes—signs that she’s been crying—and her damp hair, fresh from a shower, my gut twists.

She’s trembling, hugging her middle, and while I could maybe try to pretend she really did come down with a stomach flu or something, it’s in the way her bottom lip quivers. It’s not because of the way I came storming in here like a bat out of hell, either. Something happened. Something bad.

And I must’ve made it so much worse by acting like a fucking maniac.

“They told me you were sick. I was worried. I’m sorry?—”

“Miles Haines assaulted me,” she blurts out. Four words that stop me dead in my tracks as she lifts her hand, covering her mouth.

“He what ?”

She gulps, and her trembles turn to undeniable shakes. At first, she doesn’t say anything else, just gestures at her throat. Before, I only paid attention to her puffy eyes. Now? I see marks on the sides of her neck that are obvious scratches. Beneath them, a few bruises are already beginning to form. Assault… he obviously hurt her.

But when I reach for her and she flinches, I know the truth.

“He touched you. Where?”

Nicolette uses her pointer finger to gesture below.

No .

He’s dead. Simple as that. Miles Haines is dead.

Nicolette must see the answer in my face because she tries to explain. About how he cornered her where there were no cameras and no witnesses, how he accused me of cheating, how she tried to get away before he grabbed her, basically choked her, then raped her with his finger.

“I’m going to kill him.” I already was, but now? I promise her, “He’s dead. ”

“Royce?”

I shake my head. If I repeat myself, she might ask me to spare him, but even for Nicolette, I can’t be that merciful.

And then she says, “I wish I had killed him,” and that settles it even as she says, “but my only thought was to get away.”

That’s okay, baby. I’ll fix this.

“I understand that. And, don’t worry, it’s going to be okay. I just… why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Honestly? For a minute there, it was like I was back with Kieran. That’s when he did it. I couldn’t stop him, but then I kneed him and he went down… and I had to run.” Her eyes flicker up, meeting mine. “But you came after me.”

I take a step toward her, bracing myself in case she flinches. I won’t blame her if she does… but it does a little to thaw me out when she doesn’t. Instead, throwing herself at my chest, clinging to me as she shakes, I vow to her, “I will always come for you, Nicolette.”

Just like I’ll do anything to protect her.