His Greatest Redemption [REUPLOADED]

9

He stared at me for a long minute before he spoke again, "Sometimes I hold meetings here at my house. Rare, but it happens. The men who attend, they like to be entertained." He leaned against the caged ring.

"I'm not a clown and I've never been to a circus before." I couldn't think of a less foolish reponse, so I opted with that one.

His face remained impassive and stony. God, talking to this man was like having a discussion with a brick wall. It seemed as though he was too busy trying to read my thoughts to remember that in order to have a conversation, both parties have to be participating.

"That's not the entertainment I'm talking about." His words made me freeze, and not because of the unspoken promise behind them, but because of the smirk on his face now. It made him look like crazy, and, no matter how much I tried to act like it wasn't true, sexy.

"Er, not a sex slave, either." I added.

He didn't say anything, but his neutral expression remained the same as his eyes traveled back up from my shorts. It was meant to be sarcastic, but the hammering of my heart against my chest told a different story. That wasn't really what he expected me to do, was it?

"I don't think you understand." He pushed up off the ring, his heavy gaze reaching mine. "Until that fucking debt is paid, you will be whoever I say you are. And I couldn't give a shit if you like it or not." It felt like my skin was burning.

The lump in my throat was back, and no matter how many times I swallowed, it wouldn't go away. What have I done? I've given the little freedom I thought I had to this psychopath on a silver platter. He controlled what I did and how I did it.

Spade exhaled, looking vexed. He trailed his hot gaze over the nape of my neck, further down along the curve of my breasts and watched as they heaved up and down as I breathed in and out. He ran his thumb across his jaw and a muscle there flexed as he brought his eyes back up to mine, "I never said you had to fuck anyone. Just entertain." He bit out.

"And how do I do that?"

He walked a little distance to get to me, but once he was there, his scent suffocating all my senses, I didn't know what to do. I swallowed hard and resisted the urge to get up and move away from him. He smelt good, all man with a hint of spice, despite having just fought Nico in the ring to 'release some stress' and being covered in sweat. "You bartend at Derek's bar. Plenty of shitty people there, ones I'm sure you've had conversations with. You work around waitresses who walk around with little to no fucking clothes on. I'm sure you will figure it out." He said lowly, and I realized that he was right.

I looked past him and at one of the punching bags hanging from the ceiling. I shivered. I could do that. I could survive as long as no one touched me. My strong facade couldn't handle that. When I looked at him again, the only thing I could get out was, "You know Derek?"