Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
He didn’t waver. His expression was unaffected. Blank. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, or if he was thinking at all. I couldn’t read him, and it made me nervous more than anything. He retracted his legs from his desk, pushing back his chair. The sudden movement caused me to jump.
He never took his cold stare off of me. Slowly standing, he buttoned his suit jacket and loosened his tie. I’d never met anyone who didn’t seem to have any emotions or feelings, any reactions to anything. As if he was just callous and detached from the world.
Or maybe he just knew how to pretend like he was. I knew all about pretending and for some reason, it made me feel better. Feeling as though there might be someone out there like me, but not just someone…
Him.
I cleared my throat. “Isn’t this usually where you answer? Do you give all your whores the silent treatment?” I nervously laughed.
Nothing.
I pulled out the acceptance letter from my purse, laying it on the desk in front of him. His eyes went from me toward the paper for just a second, as if he already knew what I was going to show him.
“See here is the thing. I’m a ballerina. I’ve been a ballerina my entire life. I don’t ever remember not dancing. It’s who I am, it’s in my blood. To make a really long story short, my mom is… I mean she’s…” I stammered, not wanting to share my pain with anyone. Let alone a complete stranger. Breaking our connection, I looked around the room as if the walls held what I was trying to say. “I don’t have anyone. Okay?” I simply stated, rubbing the back of my neck, seeking comfort.
“Why is this my problem?”
My head jerked up to look at him once again. I frowned, my disappointment evident from his response. “I got accepted into Julliard. I don’t have any money. I mean definitely not enough for tuition, housing, food, and everything else that I’ll need. I just need a job. I came to you today because your place is the best strip club in the city. Fuck… probably the state. Jesus, maybe even the world.”
“Kissing my ass isn’t going to get you a job.” He eyed me up and down. His eyes brazen and dilated. “You want to be a stripper, sweetheart?” he challenged, making his way over to the leather couch on the other end of the room. He sat down, leaned forward, and placed his elbows on his knees. His eyes bored into mine like he was calling my bluff without having to say a word.
There was something animalistic about the way he stared at me. Almost like a lion before it attacked its prey, luring me with his eyes and his captivating demeanor. Making me more nervous.
And wet.
“You think you got it in you? Huh? Then take off your fucking clothes.”
I shook my head. “What?”
“Did I fucking stutter? Take off your fucking clothes, Lexi. Let’s see if you got what it takes to be my whore. Bring those perky little tits out, let me see what I’m working with.”
“I… I… I’m… I…”
“What’s wrong? Not so cocky now, are you? That’s what I thought, nothing but a fucking pussy with a nice rack.” He narrowed his eyes at me with a sexy, arrogant expression that I wanted to smack off his face. “You know where the door is. Don’t let it hit you in the ass on the way out.”
“I know what you’re doing.” I didn’t move an inch. I wasn’t done with him, yet.
He slowly, purposefully nodded. “Is that right?” he drawled out.
“You’re trying to intimidate me. You don’t scare me, Martinez,” I stated, trying to hold my composure as best as I could.
I knew he was testing my limits. Provoking me on purpose, but this was a power struggle I wasn’t willing to lose. There was too much at stake.
My future.
He slid back onto the sofa. His legs were wide open, filling up the expanded space that now seemed smaller with him sitting in it. He extended his arms, resting them on the backrest of the couch, angling his head to the side.
Watching.
“The floor is all yours.” He motioned for me to come closer. “By all means, call my bluff. Strip for me, Lexi.”
He watched me for a few seconds or maybe it was minutes, time just seemed to stand still. My heart was in my throat, and my pulse quickened with every breath. Martinez didn’t bat an eye. He was calm, cool, and collected, displaying no emotion at all. So in control of his surroundings, of his demeanor.
Of me.
Manipulating me to do what he wanted without even trying very hard. I wanted to please him. I wanted to make him eat his words. I wanted him to like me.