The Rush (The Siren #1)

The Rush (The Siren #1) Page 40

Nix, noticing my reaction grunted a short puff of air in disapproval. “You brought this on yourself, Ivy. I would have been happy to have trained you…. personally. But I cannot ignore your disruptive behavior or your disrespectful attitude. So you’re going on a job tomorrow night with Anaxandra and Evaleen. It’s nothing you won’t be capable of, just a friendly dinner with some colleagues of mine.”

An escort. I was going to be an escort.

“Nix, I am sixteen,” I hissed frantically. My nails bit into the underside of the table, any more pressure and I would rip them off.

“Ivy, it’s dinner. That’s all. Trust me, I would not ask more of you than that. Do not forget that you are mine.” His words were a heavy bark of an order before his eyes flickered to Ryder who was setting our drinks down on the table.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, ignoring Ryder as he tried to catch my gaze. I couldn’t acknowledge him in front of Nix, not after this conversation, not after what happened in the kitchen.

Ryder disappeared back behind the counter but I could feel his concentrated stare as he watched us.

“Let’s take these to go,” Nix stood with his coffee. “We have more to discuss.”

I obeyed. What else could I do? I was still a prisoner. Still chained to this Godforsaken life.

I dared a quick glance at Ryder on my way out, before Nix got to the door and held it open for me. I expected to see anger and revulsion staring back. I expected Ryder to be righteously pissed. But instead his gaze was soft and steady. He narrowed his eyes in an expression of support and he tilted his chin down as if to promise that everything would be alright.

If it had been fury staring back at me the shame would have overcome me, and left me useless.

But his silent show of support had the opposite affect and instead of soul-eating guilt I could stand up straighter and square my shoulders. I would live through this.

I had Ryder, I would be just fine.

Chapter Thirty-Five

I looked at the clock for the hundredth time in the last five minutes and regrettably noticed only five minutes had passed. Unable to sit still any longer, I stood up and started pacing the foyer. Smoothing out invisible lines on my campy black satin cocktail dress, I looked up to gauge Anaxandra and Evaleen.

They sat unmoving, with legs crossed and hands neatly folded in their laps, like they had done this plenty of times before. Hell, maybe they had.

Technically they weren’t supposed to be assets yet, but you couldn’t tell that from the way they shot bored looks around the hotel lobby or sighed impatiently. They looked like pros sitting on the plush bench seat, their slinky stilettos dangling from their toes, their tight skirts riding up just a smidge too high and exposing mile long legs. Eva’s stems were ivory porcelain underneath her silk pink off the shoulder dress. Her long chestnut hair hung down to the middle of her back, straight and sleek. And her lips were glossed and kept strategically away from bangs that slanted over one eye. Ana was just as gorgeous tonight, with her messy blonde braid hanging loosely over one shoulder and her bright blue strapless dress the exact color of her eyes. They were minxy perfection.

And I was a jumbled ball of nerves.

My palms were sweaty, my knees were clammy, my dress felt suffocating and too small. My hair was in this really intricate knot thing on the back of my head, with some faux bangs swept over my forehead, a lot like Eva’s. My bottom lip wouldn’t stop trembling, so I was forced to bite on it which in turn dissolved my lip color a half hour ago. And my hands were convulsing.

I was not supposed to be here.

I had plotted my entire life to get me out of this exact situation.

And for opening my big mouth one too many times, I had been punished by my worst fear.

I absently wondered if Nix knew that. If somehow he had actually seen into my soul and doled out punishment accordingly. Even if he would have taken me two years earlier, it would not have compared to the torture of getting paid to be some old man’s arm candy.

Sex slave industry. Ryder had been right.

Only instead of kidnapping and an unwanted addiction to drugs, my mother had given birth to me for the sole purpose of passing on her legacy. Her whore legacy.

I shuddered as the reality, more than ever before, sunk in.

“Would you stop?” Eva finally snapped. “You are making me nervous. Just sit down!”

I let out a rush of breath but obeyed. I sat on my hands to keep them from spreading the shakes to the rest of my body and then stared down at my feet. I tried to remember the words of comfort and encouragement Ryder had whispered to me all day. Immediately this morning he started drilling me about Nix’s “assignment” and because he already knew more than he should, I told him everything. I laid out my evening for him in exact terms, to give him an idea of what I would face and myself peace of mind because someone else, someone normal, wholesome and good, would know where I was tonight. Because he would be concerned about me. Thinking about me.

“It’s alright, Ivy,” Ana put a comforting hand on my back. She was a little awkward since my dress was backless down to my lowest vertebrae and it was weird with the skin to skin contact of her hand. But she was maternal and sweet and I sank into her tranquility. “This isn’t a real job. Think of it like…. riding your bike with training wheels.”

I thought about that for a minute and then said, “I was never allowed to ride a bike, training wheels or not.”

There was a moment of silence before Ana said, “Me either,”

“Too risky for scars,” Eva added.

“Ugh, what kind of pathetic childhoods did we lead?” Ana groaned and then all three of us burst into laughter.

“How about another analogy that doesn’t remind me of why I’m in therapy?” I asked, but already I felt more relaxed.

“Ok, how about this?” Ana seemed to think about it, “You’ve been on dates before? Lots of dates, I bet, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, just think of this like a date. A date with a man you don’t really like all that much, but you still have to finish out your commitment. He’s not going to try anything; he’s not even going to get further than a goodnight kiss. Most likely, these are some business colleagues of Nix that just want to have some company while they’re in town. We meet them, we go to dinner, maybe out for drinks after, and then we part ways. There’s nothing to it. You’ll be fine.”

Only nothing about this felt fine. I was a junior in high school. I shouldn’t be here with a business colleague of Nix.

And I sure as hell shouldn’t be kissing them goodnight.

The very thought of kissing sent me back to the Delice kitchen with Ryder. It had been a mistake. A horrible, awful, delicious…. wonderful mistake. One that would never happen again.

But even as I swore to myself I could never slip up like that again around him. I mean, it was all my fault, wasn’t it? I was the one stupidly attracted to him. He was just a guy reacting to his baser instincts. And I didn’t mean because I was a siren. Because he was a teenage boy and I basically climbed him like a tree and assaulted his mouth. But then again, he had even commented immediately on how it had been an experiment. So….

So even as I swore all that to myself, I hated, absolutely loathed the idea of cheapening that moment of blissful perfection by kissing a middle aged pervert goodnight.

“This must be them,” Eva commented and sat up a bit straighter.

Three young guys in expensive, well-tailored suits strolled into the lobby of the hotel looking like they could buy this place with a swipe of one of their credit cards. They were younger than I thought they would be, which initially seemed great, but on closer inspection of all things douchy realized that age might have been better than cocky arrogance in this case. Where an older gentleman would have been considerate and grateful to have my attention, these mid-twenty pretentious a-holes would demand it while filling my head with every vapid self-honoring detail they could think of.

Still, now that they were here, I felt better. Just a little more relaxed.

“Drew?” Eva asked, pretending to be shy. She swiped at the bangs that had fallen into her eye and smiled her award winning I’m-a-saucy-sexpot smile.

“Yes,” Drew, the tallest of the three guys smiled hugely in return. He was tan, with overly glossed hair and giant white teeth. While he was handsome in that “Ivy-league-I-do-a-sport-like-rowing” way, he was also so obviously full of himself I wanted to choke on the vanity. “And you are?”

“I’m Eva,” she smiled at him again and held his gaze before she extended her hand. “And these are my friends, Ana, and Ivy.”

“Blake,” Drew gestured to the guy to his right. Blake stuck out his arm and took Ana’s. He had the long, lithe muscles of a runner; I could see them even through his charcoal suit. His hair was shorter than his friends, closely cropped so there was no expensive product to maintain the stray strands. He was better looking than Drew on close inspection, more mysteriously handsome than classically. Except his eyes were almost too enigmatic, too haunting. They were dark brown and roaming. Even though Ana clearly marked him as hers, his eyes floated over Eva and me, drinking us in with an obvious air of approval.

“And this is Taylor,” he gestured to the man on his left who reached out a hand to me.

Taylor smiled at me shyly, lifting a dark eyebrow as if asking me a question. I held out my hand and he took it in his firm grasp, pulling me forward a little while he shook it. I stumbled in my heels, stepping right into his chest. I looked up at him from under my lashes, hoping to convey that I was embarrassed about tripping. He looked down at me with dull green eyes that weren’t upset at all we were standing so close.

Taylor had longer hair than his friends, the top layer falling right to the corner of his eyes. He didn’t seem to notice though, or be bothered by it while he held me close to him, totally invading my personal space. His face was tanned and sculpted, with only a few wrinkles in the corners of his eye and thick ones that crinkled with his forehead.

“Nice to meet you, Ivy,” he murmured smoothly down to me.

“Nice to meet you, Taylor,” I smiled my practiced smile, the one I turned on when it was necessary to perform. His dull eyes twinkled in return.

“Shall we go?” Drew interrupted our too-long greeting.

Thankfully.

Taylor turned skillfully, somehow managing to keep hold of my hand while tucking it into his elbow. He kept a tight grip on it, not a painful one, but one that felt awkward and forced. One that I knew I couldn’t break free from.

Ana and her date, Blake, led the way to the dining room that was just around the corner and we fell in step last. Taylor trailed a little, separating us from the other two couples.

“You are truly a stunning creature, Ivy,” Taylor’s words were clipped and enunciated perfectly, like speaking was an art form for him. He didn’t have the smooth, sexy sound that came out of Ryder’s mouth, but I could tell he was used to being listened to. Used to giving orders.

“Thank you,” I offered in return and then coughed to cover my nerves.

“I love this dress, it fits you perfectly,” he continued. A blush crept up my neck; it was awkward to keep talking about my looks. And although I had been in this place before, with guys my own age, I was not anxious to repeat the experience.

“Thank you,” I repeated. “Again.” A moment of silence stretched out between us and I found myself quick to fill it. “So how do you know Nix?”

Taylor looked straight ahead, his jaw clamping together before he cleared his throat and seemed to put himself back together. “Drew and I run one of his smaller subsidiary companies. We’re originally from the south, but while he is relocated to the Midwest, we’ll be coming up here often to visit.”

“Ah, so Nix is your boss?” I clarified.

Which was apparently a mistake. Taylors hold tightened on my hand until he was squeezing it roughly, his short nails biting into my skin. “Do you have a problem because I work for someone?”

We were stopped in front of a table set for six. The other two guys were helping Eva and Ana into their seats while we stood in front of the table looking like a fighting couple.

“No, not at all,” I gushed quickly. “I just wanted to figure out the connection, that’s all.” And now I just wanted to get my hand out of his, before he dug his nails all the way to the bone.

“Well, now you know,” he ground out bitterly. He yanked my arm from the crook of his elbow and let go of my hand with such force that I fell into a heap on my chair. I hit the seat hard, and bumped my tailbone on the corner before I was able to right myself and sit up normally. I wanted to stand up and slap him for his abuse, but this was part of the job.

Taking it.

And so fighting back the tears of frustration and pain, I reached for my napkin and laid it across my lap just so I would have something to do. I ignored looking at the palm of my hand so I wouldn’t have to see the damage he did to it.

But when I pulled it from the napkin, I noticed the blood smears on the white linen. Not wanting to smear blood on anything else, I dropped my hand to my lap and pressed it into the unsoiled fabric. So what if I couldn’t use a napkin again tonight. I just wouldn’t order salad or anything all that messy, which also kind of sounded fantastic at this point.

Thankfully dinner was less eventful, at least to begin with. The men, for the most part, ignored us. We ordered drinks- a water for me since I didn’t want to risk being carded, how embarrassing. We picked at our meals and let the men discuss business, politics and sports around us.

Anaxandra gave me a sympathetic look when Taylor insisted on keeping his arm around the back of my chair. I didn’t mind his arm so much as his hand kept reaching out and pinching my shoulder whenever I would slouch over. My mother raised me with perfect posture, but occasionally I would lean forward to take a bit of my meal, eggplant parmesan, although I hadn’t touched the noodles. Whenever I would, his hand would subtly clamp down on my clavicle, press down and then pull me back until I was in a posture he approved of.