Disconnected

Chapter Forty- Four

Daniella

Walking down the sidewalk lit by the occasional streets lamps as we walk from the car to the bar, I hold my phone tightly in my hands, ready to use it as a threat of he tries to do anything we did not agree on.

"So, I have to ask, why did you decide to drop all of the charges against Michael if I agreed to have a drink with you?" I ask, curious as to why he suddenly had a change of heart.

"I think you are a sweet girl and I needed to get to know you and find out exactly why you are with a guy like that." He shakes his head. "It's my job to profile people, yet I can't figure out why you would be with him."

"It's a complicated story actually." I laugh awkwardly. What do I tell him? I'm actually not with him. It's a joke on the media?! That won't go over very well.

"A story I would love to hear. That is why we are here." He opens the door for me.

I walk inside after thanking him and immediately regret my decision to come here with him.

All around us, I see tiny waisted girls in barely enough clothes to cover their intimate body parts, dancing around on personal stages with a pole positioned in the middle.

"Oh. I didn't realize we would be going to a strip club," I turn to look at him. What was he thinking by bringing me here?

"I figured you would be comfortable here." He smiles and tips the lady who brings us to an elevated table in the corner. He shoves the money in the cup of her bra and winks as she turns away.

"Excuse me?" I ask. What does he mean by that?

"Since you- you know-" he motions to my body.

I stand off the chair and shake my head. "I agreed to come out with you so that I could get Michael out of jail. I sure as hell did not come here to be judged and ridiculed by you all night. I am going home. Feel free to go back on your word and not drop the charges. I will find another way to get him out. One where scum like you don't take advantage of these poor women or anyone else for that matter."

"Daniella, wait!" He calls out for me as I begin weaving my way throughout the men and women here. "I'm sorry. I assumed. That was my bad. Please, sit down." He pats the seat as he slides it towards him.

I sigh and slide in to the seat. Michael can't say I never did anything for him. This is a giant no-no in my book.

I was a model, I know how women are treated in this world. I know how much these poor girls go home and cry because they are constantly objectified by men. Even the ones who are here because they genuinely love their work- they have feelings too.

He places his hand on my knee, making me jerk slightly.

"So please, tell me how you ended up in Sydney." He smirks.

"How did you know I wasn't from Australia?" I ask. Has he done research on me? Does he already know about my job here? Is that why he asked me out with him? Because he knew my job was to pretend to be his girlfriend?

"Well your accent, it's American, no?" He laughs as my paranoia.

"Oh. Yeah." I brush a piece of hair behind my ear as it sticks to my face because of the sweat forming and dripping down my cheek. It really is very hot in here. "I was born in Canada but I did not live there long. I moved to New York when I was six."

"Why did you leave Canada?" He asks.

"My parents sent me away to become a model when I was young." I reply.

"That's so upsetting. So you didn't have much of a life before then, did you?" He begins sliding his hand up my thigh.

I drop my hand on to his to stop him. "I'm sorry." I stand. "This is making me really uncomfortable. I don't think this was a get-to-know-you drink. I would like to say that I've had a lovely time talking to you but that would be a lie and I simply don't like to lie." I turn to leave. "Good night."

He reaches of and grabs my arm. "Daniella, wait." I pull against his grip. "I didn't say we were done here. I can still have my men lock him up forever." He grins.

He pulls me back towards him, his one hand stronger than my entire body. "But I said I'm done." I try to stand my ground, defending myself verbally before I have to do it physically.

"But I'm not." He cradles my back in his arm, holding my shirt up with his hand, rubbing his fingers over my newly exposed skin.

Suddenly, his hand is ripped off of me and a figure places himself in between me and him.

Michael. Thank goodness. It is so good to see him! He could not have shown up at a better time.

"Whatever this is- it's finished." He growls, getting in the officer's face as he talks. "If you ever touch her- or any woman- ever again, I will see to it that you are put in that room and then behind bars. Dirty cops like you shouldn't have badges." Michael turns and grabs me around the waist. "Let's go!"