Without warning, my head starts to spin. Shit, I shouldn’t have drunk that cocktail so fast. I can’t see any signs indicating the bathroom. Maybe I can escape for a few minutes behind one of these doors? I’m not that desperate to pee, just need somewhere peaceful to sit and wait for my brain to clear.
I step into an office unlike any I’ve been in before. Ritzy, with an executive desk in the center that’s the size of my bed at home. My eyes are immediately drawn to a stack of banknotes on top of the shiny surface. I tiptoe across the room.
Wow, it’s a pile of one-hundred-dollar bills.
I pick one up to examine it.
Surely these can’t be real?
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” a baritone voice booms.
The air around me compresses, and I spin around.
A man in a tux is standing in the doorway, piercing blue eyes glowering at me. He’s so big his shoulders nearly meet the doorjambs.
And he’s drawn a fucking gun on me!
“I was looking for the bathroom.” I drop the money back onto the table, my heartbeat thudding in my ears.
Blue Eyes paces up to me, holsters his firearm and grabs my wrist. “Who sent you to snoop?” His English is good, but I detect a familiar intonation. “Was it Vadim Rayt?” he adds.
“No one sent me,” I blurt out in Russian. “I’m telling the truth.”
I try to squirm out of Blue Eyes’ hold, but he pulls me against his rock-hard chest, towering above me and invading my senses with his spicy sandalwood cologne.
“Let me go.” I struggle and aim a kick at his shin.
His laugh is scornful. “Not before you give me a better explanation.”
I bite my bottom lip, trying to come up with something. “I just needed some time out.”
“Time out? You’ve got to be kidding. The only women who come in here on their own are hookers. High-class hookers who bribe the doorman.” His gaze roves over my body. “Either you’re a whore or a spy. Which one is it?”
An idea occurs to me. How I can get out of this situation. “I’m a hooker,” my voice purrs.
I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. I’ve never been so blatant… like ever. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Once I’ve gotten his pants down around his legs I’ll make a run for it. I reach for his belt buckle with my free hand.
With a groan he lets go my wrist and pushes me to my knees. “You better be good.”
I’ve never given a blow-job in my life. It wasn’t something I felt I could offer my ex, the only boyfriend I’ve ever had.
But I’m not gonna suck Blue Eyes off, am I?
This is only a means to an end.
I pull down his suit pants, and he releases his monster cock himself. Oh. My. God. There’s a ring-style piercing at the tip. Is that what they call a Prince Albert? I stare at it, fascinated.
“Like what you see, Kotenok?”
Somehow, I don’t mind being called kitten by him.
Focus on the task at hand… You need to get out of here.
I jump to my feet and prepare to run.
But he grabs me by the hair, yanking me against him. “Oh, yes, you are good, little slut. But not as good as you think you are. Time you learned a lesson.”
He steps out of his pants and drags me over to his executive chair.
“What are you doing?” I yelp.
“Punishing you for attempting a fast one. I’m going to spank your ass.”
“And then you’ll let me go.” It’s more a statement than a question.
“One step at a time, Kitten. First, I will punish you… then we negotiate.”