Arranged love

“And I ended it.” Simple as that. A girl has never been raped or beaten while on the clock. My clients understand what they sign up for when they request a girl. If they so much as break any rule on the contract, I will break their fucking necks. But I understand I can’t be there with them a hundred percent of the time, so we make sure all bases are covered.

For the most part, everything always goes smoothly. The girls get to keep sixty percent of what I charge, and some have never even taken their clothes off. Getting naked and sucking dick aren’t requirements to be a queen, but if that’s what they want to do, then by all means. Plus, they keep a hundred percent of their tips off the books. That’s between the client and the Queen to negotiate.

The cheerful blonde who answered every question on her application with hearts over her i’s steps forward. Her name is Whitney. She places her hands on my desk and smiles down at me. I already know where this is going to go. “Do you sample the product? You know, rate it for your clients?”

“No.” I don’t shit where I work. The Kings and I have enough problems as it is. I don’t need to add pussy to the mix.

She pushes her bottom lip out as her dark eyes roam over my inked arms. “That’s too bad.”

My door swings open so hard it hits the interior wall, and one of my best friends and business partners enters my office. His blue eyes are narrowed, and his chest bowed. He’s pissed about something. And if I had to guess, I’d say it’s regarding his brother, Grave, who is another friend of mine and business partner.

“Have you seen this?” he demands, storming over to my desk. He slaps a piece of paper on the surface. “This is bullshit!” He points at the headline. Bones is the only guy I know who will see an article on the internet and print it off to read over and over.

Instead of reading it, I watch Whitney stare at Bones like her next meal. I’m forgotten. She’s already moved on. I smile to myself. I’m not going to tell her that she has better odds winning the lottery. Bones doesn’t touch anyone associated with Kingdom. He flies out of the state to get his dick wet. His current flavor of the month is a five-foot-eleven runway model who lives in a six-thousand-square-foot penthouse in New York. She’s already planning their wedding. He’s just using her. Like we all do. Men like us don’t fall in love. Not every King needs a Queen.

“Hi.” She has her tits pushed up in the air.

Placing my elbow on the desk, I watch in amusement as she tries to seduce him. Like she has that skill.

“I’m Whitney.” She jumps in front of him.

He ignores her as he begins to pace. “Titan!” he snaps.

“What?” I glance up at him.

His jaw is set in a hard line. He stops pacing and places his tatted knuckles on my desk. Leaning over, he speaks quietly to me. “Did you know about this?”

“And who are you?” Whitney asks, still going on.

He turns his head to look over at her, and her eyes widen as she takes a step back. Bones can have that effect on you. His fuck you attitude can turn anyone away.

I stand from behind my desk, grab her upper arm, and shove her out of the room as she protests. “Everyone out!” I order to the other three, who exit without argument. Slamming the door shut, I go back to my desk.

I pick up the paper and read over it. And sure enough, it’s about Grave. Kingdom heir arrested for DUI. And then it shows his mugshot. “No surprise there,” I say, tossing it back down.

Bones pushes off my desk. “I’m going to fucking kill him myself.”

I wouldn’t put it past him.

“We need to do something. I will not let him throw away his life.” He shakes his head. “Not like …”

“As much as I hate it, there’s nothing you can do,” I tell him regretfully.

His younger brother has a death wish. Been that way since we were kids. And the man isn’t going to change now. He loves the drugs, the women, and the booze. Not to mention his addiction to fighting and gambling. “He’s an adult-”

“I don’t care what he is,” he interrupts me. “What I care is how he drags Kingdom’s name through the mud.” He sighs. “One day, I’m gonna get a call to identify his body.”

“In Grave’s defense, that could happen to any of us.” The four of us are not careful with our lives. One of our best friends is Luca Bianchi-the son of a Don and head of the mafia here in Vegas. We recently helped him kill and bury several bodies.

“Really?” he snaps at me. “When was the last time you were arrested?”

“Let me talk to him,” I offer, ignoring his question.

He snorts.

I sit back down in my seat. “Seriously. I’ll take him out this weekend. Just feel him out.” I gesture at the paper on my desk. “You know how reporters lie about shit. Maybe what is written and what actually happened are two different things.” Doubtful, but it was worth a try. I’ll have to ask Cross if he was there with him. And if he wasn’t, then that’s who Grave would have called to bail him out.

He snatches the paper off my desk. Wads it up and tosses it into my trash. “Fine. But if you don’t talk some sense into him, my fists are going to.”

My cell rings, and I pick it up. “Hello?” I ask as Bones plops down in the chair across from my desk, letting out an annoyed sigh.

“Titan. I have something you might want to know,” the man says in greeting.

“What is it?” I ask, closing my eyes, wishing this damn day was over. The bitch just started.

“Nick York passed away.”NôvelDrama.Org © 2024.

They pop open. “When?” I demand, and Bones sits up straight, noticing the change in my voice.

“Last week. Heart attack.”

I hang up.

“What was that about?” he asks.

I set my phone on the desk and lean back in my seat. “Nick York passed away. Heart attack.”

His brows rise. “Interesting.”

That is interesting, considering that Bones used to fuck his only daughter. And the fact that his business partner owes us five hundred thousand dollars.

That is very interesting. I pick up my phone and make another call.

EMILEE

Standing at the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the Las Vegas Strip, I don’t see the casinos or tourists that walk the streets with their phones out, taking picture after picture. Instead, all I see are my blue puffy eyes and runny nose. I quickly wipe the tears away that silently continue to come no matter how much I try to stop them.

My body is heavy. My chest tight, and my heart is shattered.

Two months ago, I found out that my mother was sick. She is going to die; the doctor had said. There is nothing we can do, he had added. I’ve spent the past two months trying to prepare myself to tell her goodbye. To find a way to be at peace that her suffering will end, and she will no longer be in pain.

But I could have never prepared myself for this.