Black Jack (Advantage Play #5) - Kelsie Rae Page 0,28

some of my old clients again if we were ever desperate enough for some cash. Not that I’d ever be desperate enough to let someone touch me again, but…Dominic can be persuasive sometimes. Too persuasive. And he had a point. If I had thrown it away, I wouldn’t be able to contact any of them when the moment’s right. I just wish I knew when that would be. I drag my thumb along the screen to unlock it, then scroll through some old messages, anxious to find a prime candidate with a lot of cash and a reputation he doesn’t want tarnished. But he also needs to have a shred of decency so that he won’t kill me on the spot for even suggesting that I’d reveal any of his secrets to the public.

Simple? I think not.

969.555.3239: I can’t stop thinking about last night. You were incredible.

969.555.8056: Hey, baby. I miss your pussy. Can we meet up again soon?

969.555.0027: Thanks again for today. I really needed the release and a listening ear. Glad I can always count on you to be accommodating.

I snort at the last message. Accommodating. For a thousand dollars an hour, I can be hella accommodating.

Still, at least they want me for something. Jack, on the other hand, doesn’t seem interested. Or at least not interested enough, anyway.

I just wish I knew why that bothers me so much.

The screen goes black a few seconds later. I set the phone in the nightstand before tightening my ponytail as I scan myself in the floor-length mirror. The sun hasn’t decided to wake up quite yet, so it’s still dark in my room, but I can make out my silhouette in the reflection.

Pressing my hand to my lower stomach, I turn to the side and suck in my bloat from last night’s glass of wine. Stupid vices. Stupid Jacky Boy and his meddling.

Apparently, Dominic isn’t the only persuasive man in my life. I’ll have to remember that.

After fiddling with the strap on my black sports bra, I throw in the towel and wrench the door open. There’s a private gym on the main level, and I need to get my workout in if I want to eat today. If only I could cake on some more makeup to fix my bloating issue like I do for my other imperfections.

My heels dig into the floor as I almost step on a small, black velvet box that definitely doesn’t belong in the hallway outside my door. It’s sitting on top of a white envelope with my name scribbled across it in lazy cursive handwriting. Chewing on my lower lip, I tear my gaze away from the unexpected present and look up and down the long hallway. Other than the small gift, it’s empty.

With a sigh, I squat down and pick up the box and letter before closing the door and retreating into my room. Setting them on the vanity next to the stupid wilted rose I can’t seem to throw away, I stare at them while indecision gnaws at my insides. The gifts are taunting me. Begging me to see what’s inside.

But if I open them, am I letting him win?

The soft velvet kisses the tip of my finger as I drag it along the top of the box. I should toss it in the trash, but whatever’s inside costs more than a few flowers. I shouldn’t care about Jack’s budget or the dent that this gift likely put in it. Especially when I’m the one that did the most damage to his wallet when I moved us to this over-the-top apartment and bought a gaudy ring that I don’t even care about. I was hurting from my brother’s expectations, so I took it out on Jack.

He’s right. I really am a bitch.

My nostrils flare before I jerk away from the gift as if it stung me.

Like a bat out of hell, I escape to the gym. I’m desperate to drown out the chaotic thoughts that’ve been screaming at me since the moment I met Jack in his prison cell. Along with the knowledge that it’s only getting worse.

And I can’t stop it.

A few hours later, I’m blissfully drenched in sweat and feel more alive than I have in weeks. Yes. This is exactly what I needed.

With my hair piled on top of my head, I press a dry, white towel to the back of my neck, close my eyes, and smile as Demi Lovato’s powerful lyrics wash over me through my