Dangerous Intentions (2 page)

The thought of sleeping with strange men caused me physical pain for several days. Serendipity was a small town. What would people think if they knew? I’d asked my mother the same question many times when she’d come home drunk and barely dressed.

“Putting food on the table and clothes on your back is more important to me than pride,” she’d replied. “It’s more important to me than what people think.”

In my case, I didn’t think people would actually think much, or care. Like mother, like daughter, they’d probably think, and look the other way. The people I’d gone to school with had all moved on to colleges and jobs that didn’t leave a bitter taste in their mouths and an ache in their stomachs. I was really only worried about one person then—the person whose name remained stamped on my heart.

Dustin Brannon was the boy I’d happily and willingly offered my heart and virginity. He’d shown me not only how to love, but also how it felt to lose love. But as soon as I started working at Allure, I cut him out of my life. Though the cut was deep and painful, I reminded myself that I didn’t deserve him. How would I be able to justify my actions to him?

I picked up my purse, switched off the light, and stepped out of my closet of an apartment in my fancy dress and heels. Tonight, I would go one step further. I would follow Becca’s advice. Bruno had informed me yesterday that my first sex client promised to shell out a lot of cash for time with me. I would be able to pay my rent for two months, with a bit left over for bills. Apparently the interested man had had his eye on me for quite some time.

With the decision came a promise to myself. I’d do it for one week only, I’d gather enough money to carry me for a few months, and then I’d walk out of Allure for good. I’d find a job that didn’t destroy me, even if it paid less. It would be a challenge walking away from quick money, but I feared if I stayed longer than a week, I’d never leave. I’d lose myself and end up drinking to drown out my shame. Just like my mother.

Chapter Four

Cigarette smoke plugged my nostrils and made its way to my lungs. As I did every time I entered Allure, I gave in to a small coughing fit. Not meeting the lusting glances coming from around the dimly lit room, I passed the bar and walked to the back, where Bruno’s office and two bedrooms were. Jack, the barkeeper and a man of few words, nodded my way, and I gave him a tight smile before disappearing into the back door.

In the stuffy corridor, I bumped into Becca, who was wreathed in smiles.

“Congratulations on making the leap,” Becca shouted into my ear over the rock music that filtered to the back. “It’s not that bad.” She snapped her gum and winked. “Just close your eyes and imagine yourself writing a check to pay your bills.” She planted a kiss on my cheek and headed out the door. She wore a clinging gold dress that looked like it had been melted onto her body. It was sure to drive any man wild.

Bruno opened his office door before I could knock. In the dim velvet light, I saw that a sheen of sweat had glued a lock of hair to his large forehead. The man was always sweating. He was also grinning from ear to ear, his dull, blue eyes twinkling at the thought of the dollars I’d earn him tonight. He wanted the money, and I needed it or I’d end up on the streets. My rent was three months overdue, and my landlord was threatening to throw me out if I didn’t pay up by morning. I had to do what needed to be done to keep a roof over my head. And Bruno could finally buy himself a new toupee—one that looked real.

He rubbed his hands together vigorously, his cream suit wrinkling at the armpits from the movement. “Your client’s waiting in his car.” Strong peppermint wafted from his mouth, making my eyes water.

I furrowed my brow. “His car? Why?”

“He’s taking you to the Devine Resorts Hotel. He wants total privacy.”

“I’d rather do it here. Can’t you convince him to change his mind?”

Bruno’s expression grew hard. “The client’s comfort comes first.” He smiled again, not wanting to piss me off too much in case I changed my mind and he lost a lucrative client.

I nodded, but my insides twisted with anxiety. Every time I was alone with a client at Allure, I was scared. But the small, airless bedrooms with their heavy velvet curtains were safer because Bruno was never too far away.

“Go on, and do a damn good job. His name is Leon.” Bruno rubbed his sweaty hands together. “Don’t keep the client waiting. If you fuck this up, you’re out.”

I turned my back to him and marched out.

Outside, the night air was like crushed velvet on my skin; it smelled faintly of roses, the scent drifting on the wind from the yearly Rose Petal Festival taking place just fifteen minutes away at Serendipity Lake. Even from a distance, I heard the music and laughter of those happy people who had no problems—at least not ones that led them to sell themselves out of desperation.

My gaze swept the empty street for the car, and I spotted it immediately: a black Porsche with the headlights on. A man stood leaning against it, smoking. A thin thread of smoke curled above his head and faded into the darkness.

He was in his late forties, with a pot belly and no hair, wearing a suit that was too small for him. I’d seen him once before, when he had been someone else’s client.

My stomach turned, and I considered bolting. Forget the money. Forget Allure. Forget Bruno. But my feet were already taking me in his direction. I’d come too close to making real money to turn back now. My knees trembled; it was a wonder my six-inch heels could carry me.

Leon flicked the cigarette butt onto the ground and pressed it into the asphalt with the toe of his shoe. He slid into the car, expecting me to do the same. I did.

“Hi,” I said, pulling the seatbelt across my chest and clipping it into place. The car was filled with the scents of new leather and wood.

“Evening, Rose.” I caught a whiff of his breath, a mixture of beer and cigarettes. I cringed just thinking about him breathing onto my face later.

Rose was the name I used for business. It was too humiliating to use my real name, and Rose was easy and memorable. Like the wigs I wore, the fake name distanced the real me from the stranger I became at night.

Leon started the car and I held my breath.

I turned to the window, peering past my heavily made-up reflection and black wig. The lights from the houses and shops lining the streets blurred by.

Heavy metal music was on the radio, and my head pounded in rhythm to the beat. Leon tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. I had never been a fan of that kind of music, but though it grated my nerves, it eliminated the need for conversation.

After ten minutes of music, Leon switched off the radio and I sighed with both relief and dread.

“So,” he said, his voice like gravel, “what positions do you like to be fucked in?”

I almost choked on my own saliva. Now I wished he hadn’t turned off the radio. “I… I don’t know.”

“Anything goes?” He didn’t turn to look at me. “I like that. I love fucking in the ass. You up for that too?”

“I… no,” I stuttered. “I don’t like that.” The thought made me sick to my stomach. I sank my teeth so deep into my bottom lip, I tasted blood.

“Tonight is not about what you want.” His tone was suddenly chilly. “But don’t worry, I’m taking you to one of the most luxurious resort hotels in the world. I promise you’ll love everything I do to you in our suite.”

No amount of luxury would make me feel better about what I was about to do. I’d do what I had to and leave, hopefully before midnight. Then I’d go home and take a long shower.

The knowledge that I’d be able to pay my rent in the morning was the only thing that kept me from going crazy.

***

The car drove through shiny high gates and down a driveway that was brightly lit on both sides. I’d heard about the Devine Resorts Hotel; its doors were opened to the public just a year ago. I had read about the luxury of the place in the papers. I’d also read about the high cost of that luxury.

A lit-up fountain in the center of the courtyard welcomed us. Luxury cars—with designer-clad guests dripping with jewels climbing out of them—surrounded it.

“Final destination.” Leon brought the car to a stop next to a white limousine.

A gangly porter approached the car, but Leon waved him away. We had no luggage for him to carry inside.

Leon came to my side of the car and opened the door for me. Supporting my elbow, he led me into the chandelier-lit building and through the marbled lobby. More rich people. More diamonds.

With my heavy makeup and hooker dress, I felt obvious, ashamed, and out of place.

I pulled my shawl out of my purse and threw it around my shoulders, hoping it would make me look a bit more respectable. I was reminded of the movie Pretty Woman, but there was nothing pretty about my ugly situation.

Leon led me to one of the cream leather couches on the far side of the lobby and ordered me to sit. He wouldn’t be long.

I watched him approach the reception area and talk to a pretty brunette with a sharp bob that ended at her jaw line. She peered at her screen, then flashed him a bright smile and nodded.

I dropped my gaze to avoid meeting the eyes of the other guests. I inspected my hands. The bright red nail polish on my short nails was faded and chipped in places. Bruno wouldn’t approve. He always harped on about how we should always look well groomed from head to toe. We were Allure Ambassadors.

“Our room’s ready.”

I gazed up and met Leon’s narrow eyes. My stomach turned again. He had to be rich, but he wasn’t blessed with looks. His ears pointed out, his nose was too large for his face, and all the other parts of his face didn’t seem to belong there, as if he had been given the leftovers.

I nodded and stood, and he led me into a mirrored elevator.

“Are you spending the night here?” I asked Leon to fill the silence.

“We are.” There was a hint of surprise in his voice. “I paid for a whole night with you.”

“Bruno didn’t mention that to me.” A whole night meant more money, but the thought of sleeping next to Leon—and giving him the opportunity to do whatever he wanted to me—made me want to throw up.

“Hey, I’m not a rule-breaker.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone “Do you want to call him to confirm?”

With a soft ding, the elevator doors slid open.

I shook my head. He took my arm, led me out into the carpeted corridor—soft, rich, cream-colored carpets the heels of my shoes sank into.

We came to a stop in front of one of the white doors. The number 105 glinted on a golden plate. Leon slipped the keycard inside a slot. At the sound of a soft click, he pushed the door open. The sleeve of his suit jacket moved up and I caught a glimpse of his gold watch. It was 10 p.m.

In two hours, the residents of Serendipity would sprinkle their rose petals over Serendipity Lake, as they did on the first day of each summer, sending out their wishes for true love. In two hours, I’d be lying in bed next to a stranger who had bought me, the film of his sweat clinging to my skin. In two hours, I’d become my mother.

***

Almost everything that happened after we entered the hotel suite was a blur. Leon asked me to go to the bedroom and undress while he called room service to order a bottle of champagne. It arrived within five minutes. He offered me a glass and I declined, saying I didn’t drink alcohol. He wouldn’t quit, so I accepted and took just a few sips while he drank straight from the bottle.

I remembered wishing he’d just have sex with me and let me go. But he wanted to draw everything out, to enjoy every moment.

While he guzzled down his champagne, he ran a hand up my thigh. I tried hard not to cringe. When he reached the thin elastic of my panty and slipped a finger inside, I shut off. I wanted to make it through the ordeal like a robot. I wanted not to feel, not to remember.

I remembered nothing after that.

When I woke up in the morning, Leon was next to me in the queen-size bed. There was blood everywhere. On him. On me. On the walls. He had been stabbed repeatedly in the heart, abdomen, everywhere.

Leon was dead, and the knife that killed him lay between us, in my hand. I had murdered my client.

Chapter Five

Haley

Present Day

Dustin didn’t speak for a long time, just gazed into space, his jaw tight.

I stayed quiet too. I wanted to give him the time he needed to digest the information.

He finally spoke in a thick whisper, “How did you meet him? Jude?”

I sucked in a breath and dropped my head. “When I saw the blood, I panicked. I just… I ran.”

“You ran?” He looked at me, his eyes unreadable.

“Yes. I got dressed and left. I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t even think of washing off the blood. My mind was numb.” I licked my dry lips and continued, “I just wanted to get out of there. I bumped into Jude at the elevators.”

“And you told him what happened.”

 “Yes. He offered to help me. I didn’t know he owned the place.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I was stupid. Alarm bells should have gone off when he offered to make it all go away. What kind of man covers up a murder without blinking an eye?”

Dustin’s eyes met mine. They were full of more questions. “Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He paused. “It’s shocking, what happened, and it’s a lot to take in, but right now I want to focus on keeping you safe from that monster.”

***

Dustin escorted me out of the jet and into a Range Rover parked right in front of the tiny airport. We were in Stony Creek, Wisconsin, a small town of less than 200 residents no more than an hour and a half from Serendipity, and two hours from Madison.

It was late in the day and the sun blinded me as I looked out through the car window. As we drove through cobbled streets sprinkled with residents who waved hello, Dustin explained that he was taking me to his ranch. “You’ll be safe there,” he said.

Safe. I had forgotten a long time ago what that word meant. But right now, I had no choice but to trust Dustin—yet another man who promised to protect me.