Chained Desire

Chapter |4|

C A I T L I N ‘ S P. O.V

“So how was it then?” I spare Geneva a bored glance, dropping the fat wad of money on his desk.

He relishes in the thud it makes, snatching it up with his greedy hands to count it. “It’s all there, relax.”

“I don’t take chances. Sit.” It’s not an option. I learnt that the hard way.

I almost sigh in relief from the way my muscles relax into the chair. I’ve been working the floor most of the night, waiting until Geneva came in to deliver the money.

It didn’t feel safe these past few days to carry that much in my purse. I don’t think I’m worth that much but I guess I’m not. My cut is barely 10%, but I know 30% of that goes into covering my debt.

With the tips Saph will take in during cowgirl night, we should have enough to cover the bills this week and maybe even get a pizza tonight.

“Good girl. He gave you a tip too.” Of course, Geneva pockets that too.

“I don’t like him. He tried it on again in the morning.”

He laughs knowingly, “They do that sometimes. Just have to fight them off or get more money.”

Fight. Always.

“Heard you took a party favour from Leah,”

I shuffle uncomfortable, unsure of how to play this out. “Just to get me through the night. That’s it.”

Geneva preys on addiction. On needs and desires. It’s how a crook like him has managed to secure himself millions in profits and successful businesses.

And how he managed to ensnare me into his web of deceit.

He smiles, almost hopeful. Drugs are the fuel that drives his empire. Most of the girls here, including me, are paying off our debt to him for drugs.

Most of us try to get clean, fail because temptation is everywhere when you work here and then the debt stacks up. It gets higher and higher until eventually you’re stuck here. Forever.

It’s that or you die - and who cares about a cracked up w***e found dead in an alley.

“It was worth £50. It’s been added to the debt.”

“What? Wait, no! Leah gave it to me as a pick me up. I didn’t ask you for it.”

“Who do you think deals to her? She’s here for life, that’s always set in stone, so her supply is technically free but yours isn’t. Unless, you’d like to sign your life over to me too.”

I grab a few bills from my stack and hand it over. Guess we’re not getting that pizza after all.

“There, it’s settled.” He smiles, satisfied and amused. My blood boils, simmering because I know it can’t overboil. Not yet at least.

“How many more of these do I have to do?”

“Depends on how many want you. Usually after the first client, word gets around whether you’re any good, but seeing as though you nearly bit his d**k off, I doubt you’ll get a rep.”

I almost smile, a glimmer of relief settling in.

“That isn’t a good thing.” He reminds me. “Being an escort is what brings in the heavy bucks. You want out of here quickly, then you better give those bastards the best f**k of their life.”

He throws a piece of card at my chest, an address scrawled along the back. “New client has hired you for the night and it came with a gift.”

Reaching under the desk, he pulls up a Gucci bag and passes it to me. I dig through the tissue paper to find a gorgeous black dress, elegant and classy in the neckline, nothing like what I wear here.

“There was also a few hundred bucks for you to get your hair and makeup done but I think you can make yourself look presentable.”

“Let me guess, you pocket the extra change.”

“Don’t get smart with me, girl. Your taxi is arriving in an hour, get ready.”

I reluctantly stand, muscles rebelling as I force myself steady in heels. “Who will cover my shift?”

“Sapphire can do that.”

“No!” I let panic let the better of me and pockets it for later use.

“You’ve grown fond of her. It’s touching really, but dangerous to have so many attachments in this world. People can easily take them away from you.”

“It’s her day off. She worked all weekend, just ask someone else. Please,”

“Fine. Just because I’m in a good mood with all that cash you’ve brought in.” Yeah, I bet it didn’t have anything to do with the flushed face newbie I saw running out of here before I came in.

“Go then.” He ushers me out, probably getting ready for his sixth nap of the day.

I ask Hailey to help me get ready. She used to be a professional makeup artist before her love of shooting up h****n got the better of her.

“You’re so lucky,” She grumbles, swirling blush over my cheeks.

I peek one lid open. “For being an escort?”

“No girl, s**t that sucks. I mean your cheekbones. I would kill for this sort of definition.”

I laugh quietly, relishing in the small pockets of genuine relief I get before realising where I am.

“Got it from my dad.” Kiara would always jokingly complain in the same way that she wanted the same bone structure Aaron and I both share.

“He must be pretty handsome.”

“Wouldn’t know. Never really met him. He died when I was a kid.”

She pauses for a moment, setting the palette down. “s**t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s not the worst thing that has happened to me.” Laughing, I decide to shut up to let her finish up, not wanting to know the consequences of being late to meet the client.

I repeat the address to the taxi driver, having no idea where this place is. Once we get into the city, I feel a sense of dread coming over me as the cheap takeaways and strip clubs become posh restaurants and nightclubs.

I can barely afford a taxi to Deviance and back, never mind venturing into the city like this.

“Thanks,” I’m guessing Geneva already paid the cab fare because he doesn’t complain when I just get out.

The restaurant is packed, a large queue bustling outside whilst the gentle notes of a live piano dance in the air out from the brightly lit plaza.

How the f**k do I find this guy?

Digging into my clutch, I grab my phone, hesitating as I think to call Geneva. If I bother him more than once tonight, he’ll probably cut my pay even further. Something I definitely can’t afford.

“Lilliana?” I turn at the name, a little fearful in the way it’s become a normalcy to me. I’m becoming the facade I created.

I plaster on a grin, showing off the sparkling pearly whites that took three years of braces to correct. “And you are…”

“Rhys Montrose,” He shakes my hand, and I wince at how clammy it must feel. If he’s disgusted he doesn’t let it show, the smile fixed to his face.

“How did you know it was me?” Do I just scream escort? Or is it like this invisible tattoo printed on my forehead?

“You’re wearing the dress, and I recognised you from the picture.” f**k, there’s a picture. God knows what that looks like. “You look stunning.”

A strange sudden shyness comes over me, forcing a blush upon my cheeks. I almost smile when I realise what’s about to come next. What he wants me, what he expects.

I look around the thriving Nevada city nightlife. There’s club after club, a few casinos and restaurants but no hotels. Definitely no cheap motels suited for a transaction like this. “What are you looking for?”

“So, where are we doing this then?”

“Excuse me?” He steps a little closer, illuminated under the streetlight light. Jesus, he’s the definition of a pretty boy. Perfectly prim and proper, gelled back hair and chiselled features, nothing like the sleazes and old fat guys that frequent the club. If anything that puts me even more on edge. Surely, he could just show up at any club and go home with two girls on either arm.

Unless he’s into weird kinky s**t that no sane person would ever commit to.

Lowering my voice slightly, I shuffle closer. “You know, the thing you hired me for.”

“Oh, in there.” He points to the restaurant and I’m pretty sure I turn beet red. “Come one, we’re already late.” Taking my hand as though it’s the most natural thing in the world, he leads me in, walking straight past the queue of hungry faces.

“Mr Montrose.” The hostess nods, smiling pleasantly. He nods back politely, gripping my hand a little tighter as we reach a table of six.

“Finally Montrose,” An older gentleman stands first, greeting Rhys with a tight hug. The rest follow, a woman accompanying each of them. They smile at me, scrutinising as if trying to decipher my entire life from one look.

I tug at the hem a little, before taking the seat Rhys offers out for me. Okay, so I guess we’re sitting.

He pushes me in, arm trailing across my bare shoulder as he moves to take his own seat. My body doesn’t revolt from him, but instead I relax into the chair, into his light embrace, and smile at the vultures that surround us. “So Montrose, introduce us to your girl.”

Fuck, what is this? Are they all escorts too? Is this some sort of meet and greet before they dish out hotel cards? Do they share us?

“This is Lilliana, my girlfriend. Lil, this is Chris Townsend. We’re doing that construction deal together and then Derek Harrison…” The introduction go on and on, whilst I’m forced to smile, nodding along to the lies he spews, confused as f**k about what the hell is going on.

I can’t lean over and ask him because the entire thing is a business dinner where us women sit by silently, nothing more than pretty trinkets on display. They order salads, and I’m about to ask for the steak and cut fries, when Rhys interjects, sticking me with a shitty chicken salad whilst he has the lobster.

“Merging with Scott could be beneficial for us all, but we have to think of the…” I blur out their boring business talk, thinking about how much fun Saph would have if I ever took her here.

Then in the corner of my eye, I notice his fork, clatter to the ground. He spares me a glance, smiling, before turning back.

Is that supposed to be a f*****g sign or something?

I think back to Geneva’s warning. The better I am on these so called dates, the quicker I can pay off the debt and get free of him.

“I’ll grab it,” I murmur, eyes barely flutter my way, so I sink beneath the table, my knees hitting the hard floor and suddenly I feel cheaper than ever.

The metal fork jabs beneath my calf, and I quickly grab it, using my other hand to trial up Rhy’s leg. My fingers dance delicately, as I smoothly sit up, hand firmly planted on his thigh.

I avert eye contact from him, not wanting to make this more shameful for me than it already is. Grabbing an olive, I pop it into my mouth, sensually swirling it as I suck the juices from the shrivelling fruit, hoping to god he’s watching and I’m not putting the show on for nothing.

My hand moves further up, squeezing his d**k, as he jolts up. All eyes jump to us, and he shoves my hand off abruptly. His chair screeches as it’s pushed back and he grips me by the wrist, forcing me to follow along.

“Apologies, I’ll be right back.” He doesn’t stop to wait for a reply, dragging me towards the exit.

What the hell? He pulls us into a discreet alley to the left of the restaurant, eyes seething as they bore into me.

“Do you mind explaining to me why you were grabbing my d**k in there?” He lowers his voice as a few laughing couples pass by, barely sparing us a glance but he plasters on a smile anyways.

I’m seeking to think appearances matter to this guy more than anything else.

“I thought you were giving me a sign when you dropped the fork. Figured you were into voyeuristic s**t and wanted me to give you a hand job in front of your hands.”

He just stares at me for a long time, mouth slightly ajar, as if catching flies. “I paid you to be my date. I thought that's what you do, go out with a business man, sit there pretty and at the end of night go home with my cash.”

“Wait what? Rhys, I’m not just someone who’s hired to play date for the night or fake girlfriend. I’m a stripper, an escort. I thought you wanted to sleep with me, and then I got really f*****g confused when I showed up here, even more so when we sat together at a business dinner and you introduced as your girlfriend. I’ve never done this before so I don’t know…”

There are so many words to describe how utterly horrified I feel right now but I think fool sums it all up. He must think of me as the lowest of the low, scum that he’s had an unfortunate encounter with. I’ve effectively ruined his night and it turns out he was a nice girl who just wanted a pretty date.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I’ll make sure you get your money back.” God knows how I’ll do that. “And I’ll return the dress and…I’m just sorry.”

I turn away before he can watch the tears fall. Almost a year of this s**t and I’ve never cried in front of a client like this, never let them see how vulnerable I am beneath the confident exterior.

“Hey, stop.” Gently, he takes my hand, pulling me back. I swipe my eyes with my hand, mascara smearing across my pale skin. “It’s okay, you didn’t ruin anything. Those bastards were practically begging me to accept their deal, and I got recommended the service by some old friend. He said you get paid to be a date for the night, a legitimate business, but I’m guessing the guy I contacted took most of the money.”

I shrug, smiling faintly as he passes me a tissue. “That’s how it works. I get my cut though.”

“I doubt that's barely anything.”

“Why didn’t you just find yourself a date. I’m sure any girl would accept.” Rhys is probably the most attractive man I’ve seen in a while. He’s conventionally handsome, but his kindness is something unrecognisable in men.

I haven’t had a lot of experience with that.

“I needed a date because I didn’t really have time to find one myself, pathetic right, and all those guys have plus ones, so I figured this would be the easiest option. Hey, want a burger or something?”

I laugh quietly, “Seriously?”

“Sure, I'll tell them you feel sick and I need to get you home. You’ll be compensated for your time.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“This is still my night with you and I want to get a burger with a pretty girl in a black dress. Any tips I feel like giving are yours to keep, no-one else’s.”

Nodding, I let him drape his jacket around my shoulders, waiting outside as he dips back in to tell them. I smile to myself, thinking about how utterly different I expected this night to be.

Instead of a cheap f**k in some sleazy motel, I’ve become a girl grabbing a bite to eat with someone I think I can call a friend.

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A/N: Thoughts on Rhys guys?

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