Selene
Zander’s grip on my ass cheeks is bruising as he stalks out of the washroom, uncaring of the water being dropped everywhere. He throws me on the bed and in the next second he’s hovering over me. His eyes are a mixture of green and brown, and right now they’re looking at me in a silent challenge.
His upper body is completely tattooed and his legs each have a few here and there. His muscles flex as he holds himself above me and I grin at the scowl on his face. So much like Daddy indeed.
“After I fuck you,” his hand curls around my chin painfully. “You no longer fuck my father.”
“Are you asking me to quit my job?” I smirk.
“What?”
“I’m a prostitute.” I roll my eyes, “and Daddy is a good client.”
He rolls off me and sits at the edge of the bed. “Why are you fucking my father and how is it you can slam a blade into someone’s head from across the room?”
“I fuck your father because he pays well.” I sit up. “How close are you to him?”
“I hate him.” His admission shocks me.
“Why?”
He looks at me over his shoulder and narrows his eyes.
“He killed my mother and he likes to abuse women.” His brow raises. “He likes to rape women.”
Huh. The shithead is telling me everything I already know but why? And a better question yet, what’s his place in all of it?
“And you?” I lay back down, unashamed of my nakedness. “Do you help Daddy with all of that?”
“Me? I’m going to kill him.” He snarls and grabs a pair of pants. “And if you happen to be there when I do, I’ll kill you, too.”
I want to tell him that I have the same plan, that I want to watch his fucking father die with his blood on my hands, and I want to help all the women he’s enslaved. But I can’t be sure he’s telling me the truth.
I already knew about Henry killing his wife because I was there watching as he wrapped his hands around her throat and then threw her in the pool.
It was the final nail in the coffin and I made my decision to move forward on the plan to make Henry’s death a long sufferable one.
Zander opens the bedroom door and slams it shut behind him. I have to find a way out of here tonight and I need to get away from this group of guys that both infuriate me and fucking have me dripping wet with only a few words.
I get out of the bed and pull my dress back on, then Zanders shirt over it. I slip the knife and gun back into my trench pockets and toss it on the bed.
I look behind me to the window that faces the street, do they really believe I wouldn’t try to slip out? Or is that what they’re hoping for?
I get up, pull on my trench, and thumb both the knife and gun in my pockets. Fuck it, I have never done what I’ve been told and I sure as fuck am not going to start now.
I pull the window up and look out with a laugh. It’s about a five-foot drop and I decide to hold my heels in my arms until after the jump. I can’t afford a broken ankle right now.
I swing my leg over and then the other, sitting on the windowsill. I feel a twinge of guilt but swallow that fucker down quick, I don’t owe these assholes a single thing, and I still don’t know whose side they're on.
I hop out the window and land to the ground with a grunt. I slip on my heels and just walk myself away.
I got plans and there’s no way in hell I’ll be derailed by four hot men and their questionable loyalties.