Hell: A Dark Romance (Black Heart Romance presents Heaven & Hell) Read online

  “Here.” I pick up the drink I fixed for her and hand it over. “Whiskey rocks. It’ll calm your nerves.”

  Something moves across her face. She doesn’t want to admit she’s nervous and resents my guessing. “Just take it. Trust me.” She extends her hand to accept the drink, and our fingers brush against each other. Her skin is as soft as it looks.

  All that discovery does is remind me what’s waiting for her in the basement, and something unpleasant stirs north of my dick. I have to look away, finding my own drink and downing what’s left. The whiskey sends its usual warmth through me, but it’s not enough to loosen my discomfort.

  She’s perfect, but she won’t be for much longer. My hand tightens around the tumbler.

  “Would you mind if I have a seat?” She lifts one of her feet, rolling it in a circle. “I’m not used to standing around in shoes like this for so long.”

  Her frankness teases another smile from me. “Of course. I don’t know how women walk in them.”

  “We do it because men like them.” She sits in one of the chairs in front of the desk, crossing her ankles. Demure and ladylike. Again, not like the girls who usually walk through my door. Normally, I don’t care much either way—in fact, there’s not much profit to be made from modesty.

  It’s just because she’s different. That’s all. She’s not special. She’s just unusual.

  I check my watch. He’ll be here soon. I should send her downstairs, but something inside me won’t let me do it. Not yet. I don’t know why.

  She must feel the weight of my stare because her fair cheeks go pink an instant before she turns her head, letting a curtain of thick, shining blond hair hide her reaction. But it’s too late. I’ve already seen her blush, and it’s like she set a bomb off in my head.

  Letting her go through with this is completely fucked up.

  I need another drink. Since when do I give a shit either way? She’s money on two legs, nothing more. And she owes me. She walked into this with her eyes open. I don’t even have to give her this chance to pay off her debt.

  So long as I don’t think about what she’ll look like by the time he’s finished with her…

  “You better finish that. I pride myself on punctuality as well as discretion.” I suck down another whiskey with my back to her, telling myself to forget about it. Adults make decisions, and they have to learn to live with the consequences. That’s all there is to it. I don’t make the rules.

  By the time I turn around, her glass is empty. I take it from her without meeting her gaze, turning away again. I can’t look at her.

  “Alexei?” The door opens an instant later, the way I knew it would. “Take Rowan down to Hell.”

  The chair creaks slightly when she stands. “I feel like I should thank you or something…”

  She doesn’t know it, but that’s the worst thing she could possibly say. I have to grit my teeth and will away a rush of something that feels suspiciously like guilt. “Don’t bother. Just do what you came here to do. That’s all the thanks I need.”

  Alexei mutters something unintelligible, and Rowan’s heels click across the floor. The door closes, leaving me alone.

  What the hell is wrong with me? I never get sick, but this must be an exception to the rule because there’s no other explanation for how twisted up I suddenly feel inside. That girl has no idea what she has gotten herself into.

  But she did get herself into it. She borrowed a lot of money with no means of paying it back, then let the interest build until the amount was in the five-figure range. She signed a contract to pay that debt back, and now she has to live up to the terms she agreed to.

  It just so happens some men will pay a lot of money to get what they want. The shit they crave, no matter how twisted it is. So I provide a service in a safe, clean environment.

  And Rowan is perfect for him. Alexei was right about that. Skin like alabaster, unblemished. Young, innocent—no way has she ever been in a club like this before, for any reason. Not with those wide, innocent eyes with a hint of fear.

  But dammit. Even though she was scared, she didn’t flinch. She didn’t back down.

  And she followed Alexei like a lamb to the slaughter.

  “It’s not up to me.” My voice rings out in the otherwise empty room. There’s no one to agree with me, to tell me I’m right. To ease the nagging sense of something being very wrong with this situation.

  I’ve got to get my head screwed on straight. I didn’t spend ten years building this business from the ground up to start growing a conscience now. She’s just a girl, like every other girl working for me. And once tonight is over, she can go back to her narrow little life.

  Glen’s kink isn’t even the strangest I’ve ever indulged here. At least that’s what I tell myself as I sit behind my desk. I’ve had clients who were into branding. One burned his name onto a girl’s ass, then jerked off onto her wounds after she passed out from the pain. I’ve had a few who dabbled in vampirism, for lack of a better word. One of them will never be back here again so long as I own the place, the greedy, disgusting fuck.

  But Glen? He likes pain. Especially the kind involving knives and bare skin. And he’ll just love all that smooth, unscarred skin, too.

  People have to live up to their word. Rowan’s not the only one who’s made promises. Hell-level clients expect freedom and protection, and they pay handsomely for both. I can’t go back on that.

  Fuck, but I can’t stop thinking about her, either.

  Alexei’s three knocks tell me he’s back. “It’s done.” Meaning his job is finished for now. She’s down there, and the fun’s about to start. “She’s good, right? Like I said?”

  “She’s good.” I can’t help but ask my next question since I wasn’t precisely paying attention when we first discussed her. “What were the circumstances of your running into each other?”

  “She was a waitress at that diner near the college.” Yes, more than a few of our short-term employees come from the college. “I was on my way in one night, and I saw her sitting there on the curb, crying. I thought she might be a good prospect. She told me she’d just got fired and would get kicked out of her apartment since she had no money for rent.”

  He shrugs, grinning. “It was like she was waiting for me. Perfect.”

  “Perfect.” So he loaned her the money she needed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to pay it back any more than any of the other girls—and occasionally young men—who eventually end up working in one of my establishments.

  Everything is the way it’s always been. We have it down to a science by now.

  So, why does this feel wrong?

  “Have you seen Chloe tonight?” I ask.

  He seems surprised by the sudden change in subject. “Yeah, she’s on the floor.”

  “Tell her I want her up here now.” He knows better than to ask why.

  There’s a knock from outside the office a minute later, but still not soon enough. I need something, anything, to distract me.

  I press the button, opening the door, and am pleased to find the leggy redhead I requested. She’s tried a few different personas over the months she’s worked as a stripper down on the main floor and does best as a sexy businesswoman type: buttoned-up blouse, leather pencil skirt, garters, and stockings—the whole nine yards.

  No matter how unique men think they are, I’ve never met one who doesn’t respond to a powerful but hot woman. Even I get off on them under the right circumstances, whether or not I’m the one doing the fucking.

  “You wanted to see me?” She steps up to the desk, wearing a pleasant smile. It’s been a while since I’ve requested her company, and I already can’t wait to watch her at work.

  This is who I am. This is what I do. I make money, I provide a service, I get off whenever I feel like it.

  I don’t think about the girls I use. It’s not like they don’t get anything out of it.

  “I want you to dance for me. Let me see those tits.” I lean back in my
chair, making myself comfortable as Chloe backs into the center of the office. The music playing downstairs isn’t exactly audible, thanks to the soundproofing throughout the building, but the bass comes through.

  She uses the beat, swaying her hips while running her hands over her body—ass, hips, tits, then over her face and head. In one quick move, she slides the clip out of her hair, shaking her head to let the red waves fall past her shoulders.

  Her fingers work the buttons of her blouse, undoing them one at a time until she reveals a black lace bra barely strong enough to hold back her double-Ds. She massages her tits, pinching her nipples through the lace, and I’m reminded of the perks of my job as my cock stirs.

  Perks too valuable to fuck up for any reason.

  3

  Rowan

  “Take off all your clothes.”

  That was the only instruction Alexei gave me before closing the door and leaving me alone in this dark basement room. I have no idea what’s going on in the other rooms—soundproofing again. The doors were closed as I walked down the hallway, so there was no getting a look inside.

  I have no idea what’s going to happen down here.

  I only know there’s a table in the center of the room—a table with straps hanging from the sides, and a light directly above it.

  Okay, so the guy likes to restrain his girls. I guess I can deal with that. It’s not like I’ve never felt helpless before, though I wasn’t getting paid for it then.

  Still, stripping down to bare skin isn’t easy. Goose bumps rise up all over my body as I unzip my dress and shimmy out of it. Why bother getting me dressed up if I’ll be naked when the client comes in?

  No questions. I’m here to do, not to think.

  Off comes my bra and panties. I fold them neatly and tuck them inside the dress, hiding them—like at a doctor’s appointment. Then, finally, the shoes. My feet thank me for it while my heart pounds loud enough for me to hear it in my head.

  I don’t know what’s worse: the waiting or the dreading what might happen once the waiting’s over.

  They can’t make people do really bad things. They’d never stay in business if they did. Of course, being in this basement room with its black walls and floor and no windows, it’s not as easy to believe what I told myself upstairs.

  The door creaks open, and I immediately fold my hands in front of my shaved mound. Like it matters. Like he’s not going to see all of me if he wants to once I’m strapped down.

  The man walks in, and at first sight, my insides feel all loose and shaky.

  I don’t like this. I don’t like him.

  And he doesn’t like me.

  Sure, he smiles, but it’s a cold, nasty smile. There’s nothing behind his eyes but blank emptiness. I know that emptiness. Eric used to look at me that way before he’d hurt me.

  It’s like being with him all over again. Only there was never a contract involved back then. I always knew in the back of my mind that he’d never hurt me badly enough for the rest of the world to know what he was capable of.

  This guy? I have no idea, and that makes adrenaline rush through my veins. Every instinct screams at me to run, but I can’t. Not only because I signed a contract but I’m also completely naked. Where would I go?

  “Lie on the table.” He takes off his suit jacket and hangs it on a hook near the door. His voice is flat, emotionless. He didn’t even ask for my name or anything.

  Because I’m not human to him. I’m a thing. Nobody has to tell me for it to be obvious.

  When he turns back to me, he’s unbuttoning his shirt. He’s fit, not even bad-looking, with a nice haircut and polished shoes. But if he approached me on the street, I’d hurry up to get away from him. Everything about the guy screams bad news.

  “Are you deaf? On the table.” He points at it before unbuttoning his cuffs. “Now. I don’t have all night.”

  I look at the table, lit by that overhead lamp. My blood runs cold. “Do I have to?”

  “What?” It’s like the sound of a gunshot, and it makes me jump a little. I fold my arms over myself, not to hide but to keep myself from shaking too hard.

  “Do I have to get on the table? I mean, we have a whole room, right?” Even though the table’s the only thing in the room, really. But the thought of being tied down and defenseless by this man is maybe the worst thing imaginable.

  He’s not here to have fun. He’s here to hurt me. Bad.

  “Do I have to call in the bouncers to help me get you into place? I will.” He strips off his shirt but stops there, leaving the pants on for now.

  I must not answer fast enough since he knocks on the door not a moment later. It opens and in walk two enormous men. He jerks his head toward me without looking my way. “Get her on the table.”

  I’m going to throw up. They can’t. Not if they know what’s going to happen in here. They can’t be human if they’re willing to do what he says without asking questions.

  And they are willing.

  “No, please, don’t do this.” It doesn’t matter. They don’t care that my voice is so high it’s practically a squeak. Or that I try my best to fight them off once their huge, rough hands take hold of my arms and legs. Or that I’m close to tears as they force me onto the table, flat on my back.

  I twist and turn from one side to the other, but that’s no use, either. They don’t look at me. They don’t say a word. They only hold me down before tying my wrists and ankles tight enough to hurt. I suck in air through my teeth when one of them cinches the last strap, cutting into my skin. Like he’s pissed at me for making him do it.

  I’m spread-eagle on the table and completely exposed. It’s cold in here, making my nipples tight, making me shiver harder than ever. I tug at the restraints, but it’s no use. They’re too tight and fastened securely to the table.

  I’m at his mercy. Oh, god, I’m completely at his mercy, and nobody cares.

  The man waits until we’re alone again, then shakes his head slowly. “You’ve already wasted my time. You’re lucky you look so good when you’re struggling.” Holy shit, he’s hard, like to the point where his dick is jutting out in front of him as he walks slowly around the table.

  He comes to a stop at my feet, and I raise my head slightly so I can see him. As much as I don’t want to look at him, I’m afraid to close my eyes. Afraid of what’ll happen without my knowing it’s coming.

  So I’m treated to the sight of him rubbing his bulge, eyes now half-lidded as they travel over every inch of my body. “So perfect,” he breathes while his hand moves. “Where’s he been keeping you? I have half a mind to complain that we’re only making each other’s acquaintances now.”

  Acquaintance. That word stirs something in my brain, and all the crime movies and shows I’ve ever watched come back to me at once. If he thinks of me as a person, he might be less ready to hurt me. I have to try.

  “My name is Rowan. What’s your name?” God, it’s fucking impossible to keep my voice from shaking. I hate how weak and scared I sound, mostly because I know he’s getting off on it. His hand is moving faster, his breathing picking up.

  “I don’t remember asking for your name. And I don’t care what it is.” He walks slowly up the length of the table, unzipping his pants. I don’t want to see what he pulls out, but I can’t help myself. I need to know what he’s going to put inside me.

  Oh fuck, he’s going to be inside me. This sick, twisted piece of shit. He hasn’t laid a finger on me yet, but I know this isn’t where our night together will end. He’s not satisfied to look at me or know how completely terrified I am.

  It’s like he can read my mind. “You think this is bad?” It’s almost a sigh, almost gentle. “You think this is the worst that’s going to happen to you tonight? Oh, no. We haven’t even gotten started.”

  Suddenly, he reaches out, taking my right nipple between his thumb and forefinger. When he pinches brutally hard, I let out a yelp that only makes him tighten his grip. It’s like he wants to tear i
t off me.

  “Please, stop! Stop!” I squeeze my eyes shut and beg myself not to cry, but I can feel the tears welling up, and oh, god, he’s laughing. I’m struggling not to cry as he’s practically tearing my nipple off, and he’s laughing.

  Somebody’s got to be watching, right? They must have cameras around here. No way a guy like Lucian—in control, powerful, rich—would let anything happen without him knowing about it and being able to watch.

  When I open my eyes, I look around, desperate, hoping to see a tiny red dot in a corner or something. Anything that will give away the presence of a camera. “Please, I can’t do this. Let me out of here. I’m begging you.”

  “Who are you talking to?” He finally lets go of me, and the tears start flowing, more out of relief than anything else. They soak into my hair and leave trails down the sides of my face. “Nobody can hear you. Nobody can see you. Only me.”

  In a swift move, he leans down, leaving maybe an inch between our faces. I twist my head away, but he grabs my jaw and squeezes, turning my face back to him.

  Those empty, soulless eyes bore into me. I grit my teeth to hold back the whimpers threatening to get out.

  “And I’m not about to let you go anywhere,” he whispers. “So don’t waste your breath.” His fingers dig into my jaw, harder all the time. I can barely keep from crying out.

  It’s like with Eric. I used to try so hard to stay quiet so he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of hearing me cry.

  Except this sick piece of shit seems to like that. “You’re a tough one.” When he smiles, I start trembling—and this time, I can’t control it. “But you’ll break. They always do once I really get going. I’ll remember you fondly for a long time. Believe me.”

  Like I care. Like I want him to.

  Like I don’t already want to forget ever setting eyes on him.

  He releases my jaw before continuing his slow walk around the table. I twist my hands around, trying to reach the buckles on the restraints, but it’s no use. It’s like being in a nightmare I can’t wake up from. The worst nightmare I’ve ever had.