“We have all we need right here.” I grab his wrist and lead him forward, guiding him to sit in the hot seat. “I’ve been practicing something for a while, and I really want to see what you think. Call it an added bonus, if you like.”
I place the glass on the unsteady bedside table and slide my hand under the pillow on the bed. He watches as I produce a handful of thick, red ribbon. I sway my hips to imaginary music on my return and let the long lengths of material fall to the floor, dragging behind me.
“This room is a dump,” he mutters. “We need to go to my place.” He grips the armrests, preparing to stand.
“Don’t.” I lean over and get in his face. “It will be fun to have sex in here. It adds to the fantasy.” I inch closer, his stale breath brushing my lips. “I’m the weak woman in distress, and you’re the wealthy, charming man here to save me. But every fantasy has to be earned. Let me earn this. After that, I’ll go wherever you want.”
His jaw tightens. His features harden. “You’ve got five minutes.”
“I can work with that.” It isn’t a lie. Once he’s tied, his ability to negotiate is over. The game is won. All that’s left is the celebration.
I hold his right wrist to the armrest and begin binding it to the wood with my ribbons.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He lashes out, gripping a fistful of my hair—my wig.
I gasp, feigning fear when the reality is anger shooting through my body. “It’s a part of the show,” I plead. “I just—”
A rustle of noise sounds from the back of the room. In the bathroom. No, it must be right outside the window, in the alley. My escape route.
The potential for someone to overhear freezes my blood. It seems to have the same effect on Dan because he releases my hair and scowls at me.
“Hurry up and do your thing.” A slur mars his words. “Then we leave.”
I nod, quick and sharp, ever the eager escort, and continue binding one wrist to the armrest, then the other. Next, I kneel between his spread legs, sliding my palm over his crotch as I lower. There’s no hardened cock behind that zipper, no erection, no arousal. Not surprising. He won’t get turned on again until he’s in control. Not until he’s inflicting pain.
I bat my fake lashes at him and tie his ankles to the chair legs, tightening the last knot against his leg with all my strength.
“Jesus.” He tries to kick me and fails under the restriction. “Stupid bitch. That fucking hurt.”
I cluck my tongue, stand, and leisurely walk to the bathroom to close the door on anyone in the alley who may plan to snoop on my pleasure. “You’re really showing your true colors now, Danny boy.”
His face slackens.
I let the situation sink in—my familiarity, his vulnerability.
Warring emotions spread across his face, from confusion to annoyance, then more confusion. “Who are you?”
I shrug and stroll back to stand before him. “Consider me a business partner. We’re going to work together tonight.”
“Is that right?” His narrowed gaze holds mine as he tugs at his wrist bindings. “Well, I’m more than happy to help a pretty lady. But you might want to untie me. We can’t work together if I’m stuck like this.”
“You’ll do just fine where you are.” I move to the bed and drop to a knee to retrieve the folder I stashed under the ensemble. “It’s very easy, actually. All I need are a few answers to some really simple questions.”
“Ha.” He grins. “If you’re after information, I’ll tell you what I’ve told everyone else. You’re not getting anything until I get paid.”
“I’m sorry, but that deal isn’t going to work for me. I’ll have to convince you to try this my way.” It’s my turn to smile, the curve of my lips gentle with the slightest hint of cocky menace.
“And what’s stopping me from yelling for help?”
“I think the most influential answer is my ability to cut your dick off and dive out the back window before anyone finds the room key.”
He snarls.
“There are many more reasons,” I continue. “Like, what will Daddy think when another escort makes claims of sexual assault? I don’t think the senator will appreciate an additional scandal where you’re concerned.”
“You fucking cunt.”
I chuckle. If only he knew.
“Now, as I was saying. It’s very simple.” I slide out an image hidden inside the folder and hold it up. “This guy,” I point to the man standing beside Dan in the candid photo, “I need to find out where he is.”
He doesn’t glance at the image, doesn’t even acknowledge it. “Sorry. I can’t help you.”
I inhale slowly and smile. “You sure?”
“Yep.”
I nod, shrug, then slam my elbow against his cheek.
His head jolts to the side. His shouted curse fills the room.
“How ’bout now, Dan?”
“You’re going to die.” He bucks in the chair. “I’ll fucking kill you with my bare hands.”
I lunge, grasping his throat in a tight grip as I glare. “Let’s get one thing straight. You might think you’re tough as nails because you hurt defenseless women, but I spend my days fucking up ruthless men. I will cut you. Flay you. I’ll slice you open and wear your intestines like a fucking necklace to your own funeral unless I get what I want.”
I release my hold and step back.
We’re both panting, our chests heaving. Dan glares from under his lashes, his lids heavy. “Something is wrong. I feel like I’m going to pass out.”
“That would be the Rohypnol I gave you back at the bar. It’s only going to get worse.”
His eyes widen.
“It also means we’re on a tight schedule. So, tell me.” I raise the photo and wait until his attention strays to the image. “The guy standing beside you, where can I find him?”
He squints, his fingers gripping into the chair. “Like I said, I don’t know him.”
“Danny, Danny, Danny.” I cluck my tongue as I return to the bed. I slide my hand under the pillow and pull out a knuckle duster. He watches my return with narrowed eyes as I slide the shiny metal down my glove-covered fingers, then cock my fist.
“Wait,” he snarls. “That photo was taken two years ago.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. It was a rented property. Some mansion on the outskirts.”
“The outskirts of Portland?” My words flow in an excited rush. “Here?”
“Yeah. Here.”
“And you spoke to this guy? What were you doing with him? Have you seen him since? And who rented the property?” I fire questions, hoping to maintain the momentum.
He shakes his head, his brows furrowed. “It was a party. A celebration. I only went to pick up a package.”
“What sort of package?”
His chin lifts. “Laundry,” he grates.
AKA drugs? What a naughty, naughty senator’s son.
“And this guy” I tap the man standing next to him in the photo, “is that who you got the package from?”
He jolts his wrists. “Yes. Christ. Who the fuck are you? You’re getting yourself messed up in some pretty heavy shit, sweetheart.”