you."
"Ha." She laughs without humor. "As what? Your whore?"
"Yes," I say right away. I like that thought. Having her at my beck and call? Waiting for me in my bed whenever I want her? Make that hell yes.
"No," she responds.
"Why not? I'll pay you more than you make here, and you'll only have to fuck me."
"I can't."
"Can't what? Fuck me? You just did," I say in confusion.
"No, I can't stop working here."
"Yes you can. Just walk out the fucking door."
"I can't!" she exclaims and then says quieter, "I owe Simon."
"How much?"
"Probably at least two thousand more."
"Then I'll pay it off," I tell her. While that amount of money may seem like a significant amount to her, it's nothing to me.
"He doesn't want the repayment in cash."
"Oh," I mutter in understanding. She owes him two thousand in the currency of blow jobs and fucks. That son of a bitch. "I don't give a shit, I'm paying it off."
"I don't really think he swings that way," she says, trying to joke. I don't find any of this shit funny.
"He'll take my cash or nothing."
"You're definitely underestimating his sleaziness."
"Get dressed. We're getting the fuck out of here," I tell her as I climb out of the bed to find my clothes.
"Eric, I can't. He'll come after me. He-he already did when I took a sick day once. He knows where I live."
I pause in the middle of buttoning my dress shirt to ask through clenched teeth, "What'd he do to you?"
"It doesn't matter-"
"What. Did. He. Do?"
"I-I guess you could say I worked from home that night."
"That motherfucker!"
"Don't, Eric. Please don't!" she exclaims, scrambling off the bed and grabbing my arm to stop me when I reach for the door. "He knows about my little boys."
Her little boys ?
"You're married and have kids!?!"
When she laughs at my question I realize too late how naive it was of me.
"This might come as quite a surprise Frederick Coughlin, III, but babies can actually be conceived outside of marriage."
"You're a single mother?"
"Yes."
Holy hell. Now her working here makes a little more sense. It's not to just support herself but her sons. "How old are they?"
"Three, and I won't risk them. It's not worth it."
Wow, she has three-year-old twins ?
"I'll give you enough money to get the hell out of this town, and that's final," I tell her, jerking the door open.
I storm through the filthy, crowded building even though she calls for me to stop. This time I don't ask a waitress where he is, I head to the back, looking for Simon's office.
Alone in the dingy, hallway I ask myself what the hell I’m doing. I know I'm out of my mind for getting so worked up over a woman I don’t know, yet...I can't rein my anger in. And no, despite what I just offered, I don't want Hope to leave town now that I found her again. One problem at a time.
Stalking further down the mold and mildew ridden corridor, I finally find the office where Simon's leaning back in his chair, feet crossed on his desk, and a cell phone to his ear. When he sees me, he shoots straight up and tells the person on the other end that he'll call them back. Damn right he will.
"Is-is there a problem with Cinnamon?"
God, I hate that name even though it reminds me of how good she tastes.
"Yeah, she's done working for you," I respond.
He blinks at me a few times before he shakes his head. "We have a contract that can't be broken until it's fulfilled. Sorry, Mr. Coughlin, but even you don't have the authority to break that."
The fucker's right, unfortunately, unless I’m prepared to wage a civil war. But telling me I can't do something is like throwing down the gauntlet. I always get what I want. "I'll pay it off. Name the price."
"Why is she so important to you?" he asks with a smirk, leaning back casually in his chair. Damn it. If my enemies, the number of which grows larger each day, find out I have a soft spot for a whore, they'll come after her to try and get to
"Ha." She laughs without humor. "As what? Your whore?"
"Yes," I say right away. I like that thought. Having her at my beck and call? Waiting for me in my bed whenever I want her? Make that hell yes.
"No," she responds.
"Why not? I'll pay you more than you make here, and you'll only have to fuck me."
"I can't."
"Can't what? Fuck me? You just did," I say in confusion.
"No, I can't stop working here."
"Yes you can. Just walk out the fucking door."
"I can't!" she exclaims and then says quieter, "I owe Simon."
"How much?"
"Probably at least two thousand more."
"Then I'll pay it off," I tell her. While that amount of money may seem like a significant amount to her, it's nothing to me.
"He doesn't want the repayment in cash."
"Oh," I mutter in understanding. She owes him two thousand in the currency of blow jobs and fucks. That son of a bitch. "I don't give a shit, I'm paying it off."
"I don't really think he swings that way," she says, trying to joke. I don't find any of this shit funny.
"He'll take my cash or nothing."
"You're definitely underestimating his sleaziness."
"Get dressed. We're getting the fuck out of here," I tell her as I climb out of the bed to find my clothes.
"Eric, I can't. He'll come after me. He-he already did when I took a sick day once. He knows where I live."
I pause in the middle of buttoning my dress shirt to ask through clenched teeth, "What'd he do to you?"
"It doesn't matter-"
"What. Did. He. Do?"
"I-I guess you could say I worked from home that night."
"That motherfucker!"
"Don't, Eric. Please don't!" she exclaims, scrambling off the bed and grabbing my arm to stop me when I reach for the door. "He knows about my little boys."
Her little boys ?
"You're married and have kids!?!"
When she laughs at my question I realize too late how naive it was of me.
"This might come as quite a surprise Frederick Coughlin, III, but babies can actually be conceived outside of marriage."
"You're a single mother?"
"Yes."
Holy hell. Now her working here makes a little more sense. It's not to just support herself but her sons. "How old are they?"
"Three, and I won't risk them. It's not worth it."
Wow, she has three-year-old twins ?
"I'll give you enough money to get the hell out of this town, and that's final," I tell her, jerking the door open.
I storm through the filthy, crowded building even though she calls for me to stop. This time I don't ask a waitress where he is, I head to the back, looking for Simon's office.
Alone in the dingy, hallway I ask myself what the hell I’m doing. I know I'm out of my mind for getting so worked up over a woman I don’t know, yet...I can't rein my anger in. And no, despite what I just offered, I don't want Hope to leave town now that I found her again. One problem at a time.
Stalking further down the mold and mildew ridden corridor, I finally find the office where Simon's leaning back in his chair, feet crossed on his desk, and a cell phone to his ear. When he sees me, he shoots straight up and tells the person on the other end that he'll call them back. Damn right he will.
"Is-is there a problem with Cinnamon?"
God, I hate that name even though it reminds me of how good she tastes.
"Yeah, she's done working for you," I respond.
He blinks at me a few times before he shakes his head. "We have a contract that can't be broken until it's fulfilled. Sorry, Mr. Coughlin, but even you don't have the authority to break that."
The fucker's right, unfortunately, unless I’m prepared to wage a civil war. But telling me I can't do something is like throwing down the gauntlet. I always get what I want. "I'll pay it off. Name the price."
"Why is she so important to you?" he asks with a smirk, leaning back casually in his chair. Damn it. If my enemies, the number of which grows larger each day, find out I have a soft spot for a whore, they'll come after her to try and get to
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