Blake shouldn’t be drinking with the pain medication he’s on. He didn’t ask for a double, but I’m hoping that slipping in extra will knock him out. Or kill him.
Just as the drink is placed on the bar, Nicole appears next to me. “A vodka and coke, Jon baby,” she says, fully dilated eyes swinging my way. “What are you looking at?”
My insides seethe, but I don’t rise to her taunts. I never can. But then something catches my eye—a sparkle of a diamond on her finger. Dropping my gaze, an engagement ring sits on her thin finger. “You…You’re engaged?”
“Yes.” She smiles. “To Nicolas.”
Nicolas? He’s the last person I thought would ever get married, and he hates Nicole. I don’t understand. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”
“Congratulations,” I mumble and grab Blake’s drink, taking it back to him. My heart pumps in my chest as I take my seat next to him, knowing she will never leave this place.
Blake turns to look at me, eyes lowering to my chest in a way that makes my stomach turn. “Come here.” He pats his lap, and my insides bristle with unease, not wanting to do this right now. Standing, I go to sit on his lap, but he chuckles and stops me. “No. I meant on your knees.”
Blake’s men snicker as flames smack me in the face. “What?”
“You heard me. On your knees.” He’s never asked me to do anything like this before in front of everyone. “What the fuck are you waiting for?”
My bottom lip shakes as I lower myself to the ground, the floor sticky and damp beneath my knees, knowing everyone is now watching. “There you go, baby girl. Now suck me off.”
“Blake…please—”
His nostrils flare, temper rising, which I know could be bad for me. It’s been a week without him doing anything to me, and I can tell that the reprimand will be way worse.
“Do it.” I reach up with shaky hands to undo his belt, mortified and angry that he’s making me do this right now. He continues his game, slamming a card on the table. I can’t believe he’s still playing poker while making me do this.
“The merch is someplace safe,” the conversation that was happening between them resuming. “The feds will never find it.” Blake nods, eyeing me with impatience as I undo his jeans, my heart thumping with sickness. Hatred. Hoping he will change his mind. “We’re setting up profiles now—”
“No. Not online.” I unzip him. “They know how to get into our sites.” Jerking his hips upward, I peel back the layers. Jeans, boxers. “Shut them down.”
“How do you—”
“The auction. That swanky place in Roseland.” His cock, hard and angry, springs free, and a tear falls from my eye that he’s making me do this with an audience.
His hand slams against the side of my head, sending a burst of stars firing across my vision. Without giving me a chance to recover from his assault, Blake fists my hair and yanks me forward. Sweat and salt choke me as he shoves himself into my mouth, past my teeth, until he’s hitting the back of my throat. I’m gagging before I know it, the taste of him always vile. Always retched.
“We give them the goods, we get the money. Easy and undetectable,” Blake continues as if I weren’t on my knees being degraded. The club door opens and then slams shut. “Milton. You’re back.”
My heart leaps, and I try to pull away, but Blake keeps me in place, thrusting upward in a warning. My eyes water, lips stretched, and stomach rolling.
“Come play with us,” Blake says. No. Please don’t.
The chair next to us pulls out from beneath the table, and I sense him sit. Then I hear cards being shuffled. The other players have gotten quiet.
“That your blood?” Blake asks, voice heavy from me doing the only thing I can think of for this to end sooner. Making him come as quickly as I can. I’ve never felt shame like it, having no choice but to do what I can do.
“I’ll live,” Milton replies. “Is that necessary?”
“Why? You want my girl, Milton?” My insides twist, shock drawing me back. Blake bursts out laughing. “I’m just fucking with you.” He grabs my hair and pulls me back. “Go to bed. You can finish later.”
Getting to my feet, I keep my head down as I scurry out of the room, feeling a hundred pairs of eyes watching me go. Especially Milton’s.
Chapter Eighteen
I’ve always wondered what it would be like when you die. Where you go. If Heaven and Hell exist. That we’re not all bullshitting ourselves in believing there are truly places for good and bad people. And what about the people in between? The ones who had no choice but to do wrong to survive. Do they stay here on earth, floating through it unseen? Unheard?
Then there’s reincarnation, and maybe that would be nice. Be reborn a different person—someone with a better life unless you really are that unlucky to strike a lousy life twice.
Rain falls outside. Tap, tap, tapping on my window. They just administered my night meds, and already my eyes are heavy. My insides numb. There’s a deep void in my chest, and it’s called defeat.
“What are you thinking?” a voice drifts into my thoughts. How beautiful that voice is. How much I wish it could be real.
“I’m thinking…about where you go when you die,” I mumble, eyes closing. “Anything would be better than this.”
There’s no reply. Not that I expect it from a ghost. A lone tear rolls over my nose and dampens my pillow before giving up and succumbing to the drugs.
Something wakes me. A breath that is not my own. A gut instinct that I might not be truly alone. Over the years, I’ve learned that sensation well, mostly if Blake were in
