mouth.
All the men sit around the room discussing next year’s election, the poll numbers, and the campaign donations, like a young woman isn’t servicing a man three times her age. My hands continue to shake, still needing something to take the edge off. As my brain tries to find its escape, I hear a door swing open.
“What are you doing here?” Weston’s voice sounds different—nervous, shaken. The man forcing himself on me pushes me away while the entire room goes quiet. I hit the floor flat on my butt before turning around to see who’s entered.
When I look up, the most beautiful man lock eyes with me. From head to toe, he is the epitome of perfection. Messy chestnut brown hair that looks like he’s been running his fingers through it all day, soft brown eyes like milk chocolate that’s been warmed up. He’s in a three-piece suit, which hugs every inch of his body perfectly. It looks like it was designed just for him. He’s tall, well over six feet. But what catches my attention is his smile. It’s probably capable of being sweet, but it’s not. It’s filled with contempt with a bit of humor like he’s in on some private joke nobody else is privy to. He towers over Weston, exuding power and confidence. He’s sure of himself and of his place in this world. I remember when I had that same feeling, knowing the world was at my fingertips. When I had a bright future.
Normally Weston is the one in control, but right now he’s scared. He’s cracking his neck like he used to do when my mom would catch him in a lie and he wasn’t sure how to get himself out of it. His uninjured hand is opening and closing into a fist, but he’s not towering like he usually is, instead he’s cowering. Whoever this man is holds more power than Weston.
Then it hits me. I need to speak up, try to save myself. If it doesn’t work, I’ll be in a world of hurt, but what if it does work? Before I can say something, the man speaks. His eyes leaving mine.
“I heard you were holding an investment meeting tonight, so I figured I would drop by and check on my money. Your time is almost up.”
“Weston, I think it would be best if we go.” The man who just had his nasty hands on me is now trying to run.
“I think you all should stay. I would imagine what I have to say will interest you. Mr. Nelson, is it?” Mystery man smiles sardonically at the guy who pushed me to the ground, causing him to shut up and frown, and it sends chills straight up my spine. “I could be wrong, but I believe you have invested with Mr. Hightower. Am I right?”
“Well, yes you are. I did.”
“Giovanni, there’s no need to involve these men. Let’s speak in private.” Weston’s voice is shaky. He’s freaking the fuck out, and it kind of makes me smile a little on the inside.
The man Weston just called Giovanni quirks one brow up and tilts his head just slightly to the left, silently shutting Weston up. If I weren’t scared of the repercussions, and without any clothes on, I would stand and cheer him on.
“Are you aware that Mr. Hightower owes me a significant amount of money?”
“Weston, is this true?” One of the other men speaks up.
“Gentleman, I can explain.”
“You absolutely can explain, Mr. Hightower, right after you show me the progress you’ve made on getting me my money. I hope you aren’t planning to wait until the last second to obtain that amount of money.” Giovanni never raises his voice. The way he speaks you’d think he was placing a to-go order at a restaurant, yet his voice is strong and assertive. Every emotion is made known without even needing to yell. This man means business.
“I can pay you back some more of it. I don’t have it all. Come with me into my office.”
“Rome, Caesar.” Giovanni says two names and instantly two big burly men enter the room. They are similar to Giovanni in appearances, both in suits which fit them perfectly—great physique and good looking—but they don’t hold the room like Giovanni does. They aren’t calm like he is. They must be his backup, his enforcers. They look angry and seem to lack the patience Giovanni has.
The two men grab Weston by his arms to escort him to his office, making