Prince Player(112)

I’ll give up the money. Forget about the money. Sure, it’s a life-changing amount, but I’d give it all up for the chance at something real and lasting and good.

It’s a crazy thought, giving up millions, but I can’t help but seriously consider it. Maybe if I told him that, he’d break the contract and we could try this seriously. I don’t know if he’d even want that, though. The whole point of buying me is that it’s temporary and there aren’t any feelings involved.

Feelings are involved now, though. I can’t say what they are or what they mean, but they’re there and I can’t stop them.

The day wears on and soon it’s around five. Normally, Jenkins is very prompt with my dinner, but today something is different. He brings it at five on the dot, which is way too early for me, but I haven’t really complained. Today though, it’s five thirty and there’s still nothing.

I shrug and figure maybe he’s finally figuring out that five is too early for a healthy young lady like myself.

Around five forty-five, Jenkins appears knocking at the door. He hustles the dinner cart inside, looking stressed and worried. I stand up and head toward him.

“Evening,” he says. “Your dinner is served.”

“Wait,” I say as he turns to leave. “Is everything okay?”

He cocks his head at me. “I think you know all about that already,” he says with such vile scorn that it really surprises me.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Your little Syndicate is downstairs talking with Mr. Locks right now. And you pretend like you don’t know. I know you text them every day.” He makes a face like he smells shit.

But my head is spinning too much to pay attention to that. “Wait, The Syndicate is talking with him?” I ask. “Why would that happen?”

He narrows his eyes. “You don’t know?”

“I have no clue.” I step toward him. “You have to let me down there. I have to see Ethan.”

He considers for a moment then shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Absolutely not. You’ve been enough trouble already.”

“Jenkins, please,” I plead. “I can’t stay up here. I didn’t know they were coming and that can’t be good. Let me down there.”

“No,” he says, and turns to leave again.

I leap forward and take his hand. He rears back, shocked, his face a mask of disgust and outrage.

“Please,” I say again. “You have to let me go down.”

“No, and kindly never touch me again.” He turns and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I stare at the shut door, shocked and terrified.

The Syndicate said they’d never make contact with Ethan unless they absolutely had to. That was only meant to be a last and worst-case scenario. They’re supposed to discreetly check up on me and act invisible.

But if they’re here, something is wrong, something is very wrong. I can’t just stay in this room. I have to go down there.

I take a deep breath and then open the door, heading out into the hall. I march toward the stairs and head down, not slowing, and not taking no for an answer.

I’ll have a say in this, whatever it is. I can’t let this real thing slip through my fingers, not now, not when it’s so close.





21





Ethan





Lucille from The Syndicate sits across from me on the sofa, her back very straight. She sips from the cup of tea that Jenkins brought us on a tray.

Jenkins disappeared soon after I came back. I had to remind him to take dinner up to Aria, mostly just to get him out of the room. I don’t want him listening in on this conversation.

“I’m sorry to come here like this, Mr. Locks,” she says.

“Please, call me Ethan.” I frown at her. “I assume there’s a problem.”

She nods slowly. “There is a problem, Ethan. I’m very sorry about all this.”

“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for yet.”

She looks a little uncomfortable, but she’s hiding it well. Clearly she’s used to dealing with this sort of thing, but whatever she has to say she doesn’t like.

“It’s an, ah, unusual situation,” she says. “We don’t typically sell the girls for more than a couple weeks. One month is a long time.”

I shrug. “You agreed at the time.”

“You offered a lot of money.”

“And you took my money.” I lean toward her. “Are you regretting it?”

“Yes, we are,” she says. “Truth is, we shouldn’t have sold you Aria for a month. You’re a new client. There’s normally some kind of short-term trial period.”