FRAGMENTED Page 3

  His eyebrows shoot upwards. “Are you always this frank when it comes to sex?”

  “I’m getting paid to get you off. This isn’t about me.”

  He regards me silently.

  I wait impatiently for him to tell me what he really wants. After last night, I’m just not in the mood to play guessing games.

  He stands there, making no move to come around the island to my side. Instead, he folds his tanned arms across his chest, bringing attention to how the dark shirt stretches over his biceps. “This what you want? Sex with a stranger in exchange for cash?” he asks in a quiet, flat tone.

  His question grates on my nerves, and my body is becoming rigid with tension. “What does it matter?”

  “It matters.” His expression is devoid of emotion, so I’m clueless as to where he’s going with this.

  This is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had with a client. They usually don’t care what I want. It’s always all about them and what I can do to make them feel good—even if they degrade me in the process.

  His eyes remain on mine. “I heard your conversation last night before you came into the private room. Do you remember it?”

  My lips tighten, and I stubbornly remain silent. I’m not here so that he can try to get inside my head to do God knows what.

  “Do you enjoy being a prostitute?” he asks bluntly.

  This isn’t worth the money he’s offering. If he’s trying to tear down my self-esteem, I can’t silently let it to happen. The clients that verbally strip me bare to make themselves feel better about themselves usually leave scars on my soul. My self-worth is already in tatters, and I’m just barely holding on these days.

  I bend down and pick up the robe, slipping it on. “Take me back to the club,” I tell him, my tone cool.

  His eyes have followed my movements as I refasten the robe. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, and I don’t like it,” I retort.

  “Sit and eat,” he says, nodding at the plate I’d left on the island.

  My eyes narrow. “And if I don’t?”

  He shrugs. “Then food gets wasted.”

  For a moment, we stare each other down until my stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly. A flush crawls up my cheeks.

  He sighs, uncrossing his arms before picking up his own plate that he had yet to touch. He then leans his hip against the counter and begins to eat while he waits to see if I’m going to give in or not.

  I’m aware that I won’t be leaving until he allows me to, so I grudgingly walk back to the chair and sit down. I pick up the fork and take another bite of the delicious eggs that he’d made.

  “If you didn’t work at the club, what would you do?” he asks, his tone vague.

  Instead of responding, I slip a forkful of food into my mouth. That choice has never been up to me, and I refuse to give him further ammunition to use against me once this charade is over. He can ask me with feigned casualness or with that commanding tone all he wants, that doesn’t mean I’m going to give him anything of myself that’s important.

  “Do you have a name?” he asks patiently.

  “Raven,” I reply.

  He looks displeased as his fork pauses, hovering above his plate. “Not your stage name, your real name.”

  “Becky,” I say, lying through my teeth.

  The look he gives me tells me that he knows I’m still lying. “I’m Knight,” he informs, deciding not to challenge me over my lie.

  I continue to eat, sipping water from time to time.

  Knight sets his plate down and moves to the edge of the island—directly across from me. He braces his palms flat on the surface and leans forward, his eyes intently focused on mine. “I think you’ve got yourself in a shit situation, and you have no way to get yourself out. You want out or not?”

  Carefully, I set my fork down and look at him warily. I don’t believe that he cares about my situation. No one does.

  He reaches behind himself and pulls out a thick bundle of folded bills from the back pocket of his jeans. He lightly tosses the money so that it lands beside my plate. “That’s the rest of the two grand I promised. I asked you to stay the night, and you did. No sex necessary.”

  My lips part with shock as my eyes lock on the cash. They’re one hundred dollar bills. I mentally calculate how much is there and estimate the amount that had been on the nightstand. He’s serious. It all adds up to what he’d promised. I’m dumbfounded but still not believing that he isn’t wanting something in return for it.

  He’s watching me, waiting to see my reaction.

  This could be a trap of some sort. As much as I want the money, I tear my eyes from it and look at him suspiciously. “What do you want from me?”

  “I just want to know why you’re working at the club. Do you like it?” he asks.

  A hint of fear begins to form deep within my chest. “Are you a cop?” I whisper, my body tensing.

  Our eyes remain locked, and his gaze never wavers or flickers. “No.”

  I don’t know why, but I believe him. I’m also unsure what to do, so I remain seated, leaving the money untouched until I know what this is all about.

  The corners of his eyes tighten, betraying that he’s growing impatient with me. “Come on, Becky. Give me something here.”

  He’s not a cop, and he has money—money that could be mine if I can manage to finesse my way out of this conversation so I can leave. “No. I don’t like working at the club,” I reply, reluctantly answering his question.

  His dark eyes sharpen. “Do you work there by choice?”

  Silently, I shake my head.

  He shifts where he stands, leaning his hip against the island, all his attention fixated on me. “Do you have anywhere you can go—somewhere away from those that run the club?” he prods.

  Once more, I shake my head and feel my chest tighten. I have no one.

  “You’d be homeless?” he asks bluntly.

  I’m very much aware of my lousy situation, so I don’t appreciate being reminded of it. I shoot him a look. “Yes.”

  He’s silent a moment and then asks, “What’d you do before working at the club?”

  “Same thing, different place,” I reply flatly.

  Knight frowns. “Help me out here.”

  My temples ache, and I reach up and gently massage them. He’s not going to let up until I give him some sort of answer. It’s not as if my story is a secret or anything, I just don’t confide in people. “I used to be a maid, but that didn’t work out so I ended up on the streets. People…took advantage of my situation,” I say carefully, making certain to keep my explanation simple.

  Understanding flickers in his gaze. “Do you have family?”

  Once more, I shake my head.

  “How old are you?”

  I’m tired of this inquisition of his, but I still manage to hold onto my patience—barely. “Twenty-two. Why?”

  “Call me curious.”

  My attention shifts back to the plate in front of me. I’m not finished eating yet, and since I don’t want to continue staring at him, I pick up the fork and take another bite of the eggs. I’d prefer to remain quiet and let him do all the talking. Maybe I’ll figure out what this is all leading up to. While I eat, he watches me with an odd expression on his face that I can’t decipher.

  Finally, out of exasperation, I ask, “What happens after I’m finished eating?”

  He rubs a hand over his jaw, the sound of the pads of his fingers running across his short whiskers reaches my ears. “That’s what I’m trying to sort out.”

  I set the fork down. “Tell me what you want.”

  Indecision flickers across his features. “You want to go back to the club?”

  “Well, no…”

  He gives me a look. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

  “I’m not your problem.”

  His lips tighten in the corners. “I didn’t coax you out of the club
just so I could take you back.”

  “Why did you then?” I ask.

  “I want you to have a choice,” he says simply.

  “A choice?” I echo with confusion.

  He nods. “No coercion, no force. I want you to decide what comes next.”

  I’ve heard so many lies through the years that everything he says is an assumed lie. There’s not a single person in the world that I trust, and I learned that the hard way. It’s my natural instinct to not believe anything anyone says.

  “Did you like your job when you worked as a maid?” Knight asks, interrupting my thoughts.

  His question has caught me off guard, and I shrug. “I didn’t mind it,” I say truthfully since there’s no harm in admitting it. My mother had found it easier to work as a maid for those that didn’t care that she wasn’t a legal citizen of the United States. Eventually, she had a steady job with a wealthy couple that had lasted for several years. During that time, I’d helped her, and when she became sick, I took over the housework so that we wouldn’t be kicked out of the room we’d shared on the estate.

  Knight nods and seems to come to some sort of decision. “This place doesn’t clean itself.” He names a figure and looks at me questioningly. “That good for a bi-weekly paycheck?”

  My mouth forms an O before I blurt, “Are you for real?”

  His lip quirks in the corner. “Some like to pretend otherwise,” he says dryly.

  I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but it doesn’t matter. I’m still trying to wrap my head around his offer. He has to be joking, right? He can’t possibly be serious.

  He sees the visible doubts I’m having and adds, “No strings attached to the offer. Do your job, and in your free time, you can go out into town and do what you please.”

  “What do you mean by no strings?” I find myself asking.

  “No sex,” he says firmly before something flares in his eyes. “Or at least I’m not paying you for it. If you want to have some fun, I’m down for it. But it’s not expected or part of the job description. I want that to be very clear.”

  The kind of money he’s offering could change my life. I could finally make an honest living. The possibilities…they’d be endless. I’m having a hard time believing him, but yet if he were just after sex, this is certainly not helping him accomplish it. Besides, I’d already offered myself to him, and he’d declined. I didn’t miss the fact that he’d obviously have sex with me if I offered. That’s not all that surprising considering that seems to be what all men want. But he’d also made it clear that it would be my decision and not an expected part of the job.

  My teeth sink into my lower lip as I go through everything that’s happened. He’d let me sleep alone last night. He’s fed me, and he’s already given me enough cash to get me the hell out of LA. I look up at him and search his gaze. “Is this for real?” I ask softly.

  This feels more like a dream—one that has me believing I’m going to escape this horror show that’s my life only to wake up to face my harsh reality. Yes, those dreams still plague me, and upon waking, it always feels like someone has pulled a rug out from beneath me, and I find myself spiraling back into misery.

  “Yes,” Knight assures.

  “You would pay me to be a live-in maid—just to clean?” I ask cautiously, needing that verification.

  He shrugs. “You cook?”

  I blink. “Um…some. But it’s nothing fancy,” I add. As much as I want a legitimate job, I won’t lie to make myself appear more suitable for it.

  He nods. “Clean, for sure. Cooking will depend on if your cooking is edible.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” a male voice demands, cutting into our conversation.

  I’m startled as a tall man strides into the kitchen. He’s very attractive with mocha skin and startling blue eyes. He’s bald, clearly a personal decision since he appears to be around Knight’s age. I’d been under the impression that we were alone on the estate, so the sight of this very displeased man has me feeling uneasy. Instinctively, I pull the robe closer across my chest.

  Knight glances at the man, his expression unreadable. “I feel quite sane,” he replies mildly in response to the man’s question.

  The man pauses near the island counter and places his hands on his hips, causing the long-sleeved, button-up shirt to tighten across his firm chest. He’s also wearing dark pants and looks as if he’d stepped out of an office recently. Is he an assistant of some sort? He doesn’t acknowledge me as he focuses on Knight. “You can’t just hire her,” he says flatly.

  “I just did,” Knight informs.

  “She isn’t like Blue. She needs background checks—”

  I quit listening to anything else as I tense. Alarm is growing by the seconds. If I’m extradited back to Brazil, it would mean being sent back to an unfamiliar country. My mother brought me overseas with her to America when I was just two years old. I grew up here. I’m in this country illegally, just as she’d been.

  Knight’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “Do I own this estate?” he asks, showing no hint of backing down from the argument.

  My eyes slide to the man he’s speaking to, and he gives Knight a look. “To some extent, yes.”

  “We could use a housekeeper, you know that,” Knight tells him.

  The man glowers. “Nathan prefers—”

  Knight gives him a cutting look and says, “Fuck Nathan.”

  Who the heck is Nathan? My head swings back and forth as I avidly listen to the conversation.

  The man shakes his head once more. “This is never going to work.”

  “That remains to be seen. Now leave us,” Knight orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

  Much to my surprise, the man visibly grinds his teeth before he stiffly walks out of the kitchen. My eyes quickly swing back to Knight. “Who was that?”

  “A personal assistant of sorts.”

  I’m not stupid, and I know more is going on than he’s letting on. I knew this was too good to be true. I rise to my feet and fold my arms across my chest. “You’d better tell me what you’re hiding.”

  He studies me for a long moment, not bothering to deny that there’s more to this offer of his. “Have you ever heard of dissociative identity disorder?”

  My brows furrow. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a question about a disorder. “No.”

  “You seem like the type of woman that likes to cut to chase, so I’ll keep this simple. I’m one of five personalities that reside in this body. No one will hurt you,” he assures. “I give you my word on that. However, things can get a bit tricky with all of us. Griffin, the man you just met, and the other man you met last night, Cameron, they’re here to help things run smoothly.”

  I wait, fully expecting him to tell me he’s kidding.

  He just looks at me steadily.

  “You’re serious?” I ask slowly.

  His head tilts slightly as he watches me closely. “Does the idea scare you?”

  “No…” I say truthfully. Fear hasn’t surfaced. Just confusion and curiosity. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around it,” I add.

  “I’ll give you two options. You can take that two grand and never come back. Or, you can take that money, call a cab, and buy everything you need—clothing and necessities, and then come back here.” He moves around to a drawer on his side of the island and pulls out a piece of paper and a pen. “This is the address—where we’re at right now. Nathan Lancaster is the name you’re to give at the gate.” He’s writing something down as he says, “I can grab you a shirt and belt, it could pass as a dress to cover your…outfit.” He looks up at me and waits for me to make my decision, the paper still in his hand.

  Two grand won’t change my life forever.

  But an honest job would.

  I hold my hand out for the paper.

  * * *

  My stomach is in knots as the taxi takes me back to the wealthy estate that I’d awoken in
earlier that day. I’ve been back and forth over whether to go back, but in the end, it comes down to the fact that it’s a job and the pay is crazy good. It’s more than I could have ever imagined or hoped for, but that’s likely because I’ll have five employers—technically.

  Five personalities packed into all that hotness? What am I getting myself into? There’s no doubt that the extra money is for the unusual nature of the estate’s inhabitant…er inhabitants? I’m being paid to clean, but I’ll also be living with…them. It’s still hard to fully comprehend. I find myself wondering what they’ll be like. How complicated will this turn out to be?

  I’m torn from my thoughts as the taxi driver pulls up to the gated community’s entrance. I give the guard Nathan Lancaster’s name, and we have to wait as he calls up to the estate for permission to allow the taxi through. Thankfully, we’re waved on ahead as the gate slides open.

  The driver navigates the paved road winding through the hills until he comes upon the driveway that belongs to Knight. Or maybe Nathan. I have no idea how any of this works.

  As we pull up to the mansion, I find myself still a bit dazed over the sight of it. It’s two stories but modern with a rectangular exterior consisting of plenty of floor to ceiling windows allowing in natural light. The surrounding landscape is well-maintained but also allows for privacy. The simplicity of the estate emanates a tranquility that I find myself drawn to.

  The driver kindly helps me retrieve my bags from the trunk, and after I pay him, he drives away. I have to do a bit of juggling as I carry all the bags to the main door, and I’m in the middle of wondering if I’m expected to walk right in or ring the doorbell—when the door opens, and Knight stands there.

  My heart skips a beat at the sight of him. He’s so darn attractive.

  His dark eyes run over my outfit, which consists of a casual tee, black leggings, and ballet flats. He nods his approval and ushers me inside while taking a few of my bags before I drop them.

  “Thanks,” I murmur.

  He doesn’t say anything as he leads me to the guest room that I’d awoken in. I silently follow in his wake, studying his broad shoulders and firm back. I have yet to really form an opinion of him. He seems like a fair man, but I won’t know more until I’ve been here a while.