Till Death by Alessandra Torre, Madison Seidler Page A
Authors: Alessandra Torre, Madison Seidler
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continues speaking.
“But if it is important to you, I will do it. I need this money. There is a huge opportunity in Puerto Rico that I want to use this capital to take advantage of. Asking for two nights in bed is a small request on your part.”
“And my father,” I remind him.
“That part’s easy,” he said, taking the lobster from me and breaking it open with one carefree motion.
Great . A long-term financial burden is easy. Two nights with me—that’s the part that he finds difficult.
CHAPTER 14
An hour later, my heart has forgiven him, aided by bottles and bottles of ice-cold Bahamian beer. The alcohol has loosened our tongues, words spilling across the table before either of us can hold them back. We have agreed, in one drunken toast, to open the vaults: either of us can ask any question and receive a full, unedited response. We started off friendly, but the questions had gotten dirtier and more personal as the beers kept coming.
Nathan flips a bottle cap in my direction. “Worst strip club client ever?”
I tilt my head. “My third week at the club, a husband proposed I join him and his wife for a threesome; I refused, the wife got offended, and sprayed me with a mini-Mace canister she had on her keychain. I looked like a crazy pyscho-stripper for the next three hours, my eyes bloodshot and face blotchy.” I grin at the memory, thinking about how close I came to quitting that night.
I bite my lip, looking at Nathan. “What’s the story on Drew? What does he do for you?”
He leaned forward. “Drew was a cop. When Cecile disappeared, I hired him to look for her full time. When Jennifer died, his job description changed. We came up with the plan to create a new Jennifer Dumont, and then he started looking for a suitable woman with the correct birthdate. You are his new job, or rather, were until you became too smart for your own good. He was supposed to keep you under control—happy. To keep you unaware.” He snorted. “A job he failed miserably at. But so what? Babysitting isn’t his forte. Now he is back to searching for Cecile.”
“And Mark?”
“I don’t like to be alone. You don’t like to sleep alone; I don’t like to be alone. A shrink would have a field day with that—blame it on Cecile’s abandonment. Whatever the reason, Mark handles most of the day to day business of the house and handles a lot of the overflow from my job—little errands that I don’t have time to take care of.” He shrugs, downing the rest of his beer. “Ever been in love?”
Now it is my turn to shrug. “I guess I never met the right guy. A few crushes here or there. But the last three years hasn’t put me in the right situation. Most quality guys aren’t interested in dating a stripper.” I tilt my beer his direction. “Case in point.”
He winces. “Touché, my wife.” The endearment rolls so easily off his tongue that we both startle at it. Then our eyes meet, and we laugh, him leaning forward, grabbing the back of my head and pulling me to him for a kiss.
Spark. I can’t kiss this man without my insides melting and my heart awakening, popping its head up from its sea of despair and starting a slow and steady beat. He deepens our kiss, his other hand stealing into my hair, tugging on pins until my hair falls free. Somehow, we are standing, arched over the table, our mouths colliding in frantic passion. He pulls away, and I gasp for air. “Let’s go. I fucking need you right now.”
We hurry, my heels removed, my hand tight in his, him pulling me down the halls, up the stairs and into the elevator, where my heels drop to the floor and his arms take me into his. Then, the doors open, and ten steps later, we are in our suite.
I drop to my knees on the carpet, my hands keeping him close, my mouth begging for a taste of his cock. He stops me, tugging on my arms, and I resist, looking up at him. “Nathan, I need this.
“But if it is important to you, I will do it. I need this money. There is a huge opportunity in Puerto Rico that I want to use this capital to take advantage of. Asking for two nights in bed is a small request on your part.”
“And my father,” I remind him.
“That part’s easy,” he said, taking the lobster from me and breaking it open with one carefree motion.
Great . A long-term financial burden is easy. Two nights with me—that’s the part that he finds difficult.
CHAPTER 14
An hour later, my heart has forgiven him, aided by bottles and bottles of ice-cold Bahamian beer. The alcohol has loosened our tongues, words spilling across the table before either of us can hold them back. We have agreed, in one drunken toast, to open the vaults: either of us can ask any question and receive a full, unedited response. We started off friendly, but the questions had gotten dirtier and more personal as the beers kept coming.
Nathan flips a bottle cap in my direction. “Worst strip club client ever?”
I tilt my head. “My third week at the club, a husband proposed I join him and his wife for a threesome; I refused, the wife got offended, and sprayed me with a mini-Mace canister she had on her keychain. I looked like a crazy pyscho-stripper for the next three hours, my eyes bloodshot and face blotchy.” I grin at the memory, thinking about how close I came to quitting that night.
I bite my lip, looking at Nathan. “What’s the story on Drew? What does he do for you?”
He leaned forward. “Drew was a cop. When Cecile disappeared, I hired him to look for her full time. When Jennifer died, his job description changed. We came up with the plan to create a new Jennifer Dumont, and then he started looking for a suitable woman with the correct birthdate. You are his new job, or rather, were until you became too smart for your own good. He was supposed to keep you under control—happy. To keep you unaware.” He snorted. “A job he failed miserably at. But so what? Babysitting isn’t his forte. Now he is back to searching for Cecile.”
“And Mark?”
“I don’t like to be alone. You don’t like to sleep alone; I don’t like to be alone. A shrink would have a field day with that—blame it on Cecile’s abandonment. Whatever the reason, Mark handles most of the day to day business of the house and handles a lot of the overflow from my job—little errands that I don’t have time to take care of.” He shrugs, downing the rest of his beer. “Ever been in love?”
Now it is my turn to shrug. “I guess I never met the right guy. A few crushes here or there. But the last three years hasn’t put me in the right situation. Most quality guys aren’t interested in dating a stripper.” I tilt my beer his direction. “Case in point.”
He winces. “Touché, my wife.” The endearment rolls so easily off his tongue that we both startle at it. Then our eyes meet, and we laugh, him leaning forward, grabbing the back of my head and pulling me to him for a kiss.
Spark. I can’t kiss this man without my insides melting and my heart awakening, popping its head up from its sea of despair and starting a slow and steady beat. He deepens our kiss, his other hand stealing into my hair, tugging on pins until my hair falls free. Somehow, we are standing, arched over the table, our mouths colliding in frantic passion. He pulls away, and I gasp for air. “Let’s go. I fucking need you right now.”
We hurry, my heels removed, my hand tight in his, him pulling me down the halls, up the stairs and into the elevator, where my heels drop to the floor and his arms take me into his. Then, the doors open, and ten steps later, we are in our suite.
I drop to my knees on the carpet, my hands keeping him close, my mouth begging for a taste of his cock. He stops me, tugging on my arms, and I resist, looking up at him. “Nathan, I need this.
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