Chapter 7 "Yo, bitch." A harsh male voice rings out through the black night, and I wince as I quicken my steps, hating that I'm wrapped in only a coat and not a whole lot beneath it since Saturday night at the club ran late and I was anxious to get home to Hazel. "You sent your fucking pimp to break my nose and tell me to stay away from you? Wrong fucking guy to mess with, honey." Pimp? What? That moment of confusion has my steps faltering and allows him to catch up to me. Roughly, he grabs my arm and spins me around to face him. He's sporting twin black eyes and has a nice bruise and cut on the bridge of his nose. Holy shit. Someone got him good. "Let go of me," I yell loudly, hoping other people will see. I know they won't stop to help. Not in this neighborhood and not with him, but I'd at least like some witnesses to hopefully hold him back. He tugs me like he's going to push me into the alley, and I spit in his face. "Fuck you, whore," he seethes, wiping his face and shaking me violently. "What your pimp broke in my face I'm going to take out in your body." Why do men always assume strippers are prostitutes? More than that, why do they feel they can just take and not ask? Like we're a twenty-four-hour buffet. Always open, and they can help themselves to as much as they'd like. "I'm not a whore, and you're done touching me." His grip tightens, turning bruising, and I whimper. He laughs, his rancid meth breath and decaying teeth right in my face. He moves in closer to me, his other hand trying to palm my tits, and panic sets in. I knee him in the balls, and the pain and shock of it are enough that he releases me, and I bolt as fast as my legs will carry me. "You're not getting away from me for long, honey," he threatens angrily, and I bite my lip, knowing he's probably right. I make it inside, sprinting up the steps two at a time and holding in my tears. This is why I hate men. All men. Without exception. They all have an agenda. Something they want and don't care whether or not they step on me to get it. I close the door softly behind me and thank Keesha, sending her on her way fast because I need a minute, and I need to be alone to have that minute. My coat and clothes hit the bathroom floor, and I climb under the shower, silently gasping and cursing and fighting so I don't cry. I need to get out of here. Out of this city and away from all men I can't seem to escape. I'll move to the country with Hazel and work in a clinic, and we'll be safe and live in a cute little apartment, and she'll go to school and be happy. She won't remember what this life has been like for us. She'll never know that her father stole everything we had and never cared about her, or that her mother stripped, or that I've been forced into a deal with the devil to get us out of this mess. But that's what I did. Yesterday morning, I called HR at Monroe Securities and told them that I'd accept Vander Moore's job offer. The mountain of paperwork they emailed to my school account was enough to make me second-guess it, already hating how I was desperate enough to barely make it to the next morning after he showed up in the club. But now, I'm glad I took it. I'll deal with Vander. He's the least of my troubles. As with everything else in my life, I have to do this. I have no choice anymore. My child will have what every child should have. I'll make damn sure of it. And whatever I have to do to get us there, I will. Mom: Can you send me another picture of Hazel? Me: *Photo attached* She's getting so big. Mom: She is. She's so beautiful. I enter the glass lobby of Monroe Securities and give my name and ID to the security guard. He hands me a badge in return that already has my photo on it. A photo of me from when Champagne brought me here to first meet with Vander. How on earth did they get that? I thank him as my phone buzzes in my palm. I chew on my lip for a moment, reading her text as I walk over to the elevator. Mom: Is she still liking her new daycare? Me: Actually, she's starting a new one. I got a new job working for Vander Moore as his executive assistant. Mom: Vander Moore? As in Georgia and Lenox Moore's son? Because she can't mention Cassian. She couldn't say you mean Cassian's old best friend? She hasn't mentioned Cass since he died. Me: Yes. Him. I ran into him, and he offered me the job. They have a daycare here in the building where Hazel is going to start. Actually, I dropped her off this morning before I went to my clinical, and she seemed to like it, and the teachers were kind and fun and enthusiastic. I watched her a bit on the app as I took the T over to the hospital, and she's been smiling and playing with other kids, so I'm going to take it as a win. Mom: Wow. I don't know what to say. Me: It's a good job and will help me a lot financially. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ Findnøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Mom: We could help you with money. Ice slithers through my veins. Me: I don't want his money, and you know that. I gotta go. I don't want to be late. It's my first day in the new job. Love you. Mom: Love you too. I climb onto the elevator and blow out long, even breaths as I shove any useless emotion about my parents aside. It doesn't help, and no good will come of it. Instead I focus on the asshole waiting for me. I don't want to see Vander. Unless I can strangle him. The elevator doors part on the sixteenth floor, and Champagne is right here to greet me. "For the record, I didn't know what he did. I wasn't part of that. But whatever he did to get you to say yes, I'm glad." Obviously, I said yes. There was no way I could say no, and after filling out ten thousand forms and practically signing a blood oath, here I am. It's Monday after my hospital clinical, and I'm angry, annoyed, and hateful. And holding onto those because I know how to work with them. Vander may have hired me, but that doesn't mean I have to be nice to him or even grateful. "I hope you know I'd never have brought you here if I knew he got you fired. He just seems to know me too well. I saw him talking to you last week from outside the café when I came looking for him, and he rarely talks to people, so I thought... I don't know. I thought maybe he'd like you and it would be a good fit. That's all. I swear." "Thank you. I appreciate you saying that. And not knowing what he was up to. He seems to know how to get everyone right at their sticky spot so no blame." "I replaced his coffee with decaf, and considering he drinks more caffeine than any human I've ever met, he's been feeling the difference." I snicker. "That's diabolical. Remind me not to get on your bad side." "Something tells me we'll be fast friends. I'm glad you're here. Let me show you where you'll be working. He was very clear that you have an office. You look beautiful, by the way. I love your dress." "Thank you!" I preen a bit at that as we walk down the hall, the same as we did the last time I was here, only now I'm not dressed like a college kid in old sneakers and jeans. I had to go out over the weekend and buy some professional-looking clothes since I had none. I actually did quite well at the second-hand store, but still, the shopping trip put yet another hole in my wallet, and payday here isn't for another two weeks. Part of me feels like I caved. Like I handed over a piece of my soul to the man whose motives I'm not entirely clear on. But at the same time, what he's offering me is too good to pass up. It's resurrection. It's freedom. It's hope. It's the future. Not just for me, but for Hazel too. Still, other than the responsibilities of my job, I plan to stay as far away from Vander Moore as possible. "Here we are." Champagne opens the door to an office that has a large, dark wood desk with two monitors, a laptop, an iPad, and an iPhone sitting on top of it. That's all fine. It's the other laptop on top of the round table along with a wall that's entirely comprised of children's toys, books, and puzzles that has me curious. "Um." "He said between school and your hours here, there might be times when your daughter has to come up to the office and hang out while you finish up since the daycare closes at six." My jaw might be on the floor. "So he had you get all of this for Hazel?" She gives me a look, her features soft if not a little curious. "No. He brought them when he came in this morning." He brought them? "And the extra laptop?" I press. "He said the ones from the school are shit." Now I laugh. That fucker. "How does he know I only have a school-issued laptop? Or how old Hazel is, for that matter?" "Honey, he's Vander Moore. He knows everything. And that's not some exaggeration. He actually knows everything. All those things you signed, this is how it is. Our background checks make the ones the government does look like child's play. He knows everything about you." That gives me pause because there are a lot of things a background check can't find. No. Vander doesn't know everything. He knows enough, and his enough keeps him happy in his executive little bubble of I have money and can throw it around to my own gain. Still, the play space for Hazel is nice, and she'll like it, so fuck him. I'll keep the toys and the office. "Amazing. He's so generous." I wonder if she can hear the sarcasm in my voice. I never imagined a day would come where I'd hate Vander Moore, but here we have it, despite the expensive toys he's bestowed upon me. Maybe it's not hate. Maybe it's more resentment or anger. I don't know. I just know I don't like him. And I sure as hell don't trust his corrupt ass. "I'm gonna leave you here to get settled and be back for you in about an hour. We have an introductory meeting with the department heads." I turn to her and force a smile. "Excellent. Can't wait. Do I get any private time with Vander?" She gives me a long look. "Only if you want it. But I will say this: know what you're getting into with him. And when he's locked in his closet, you don't bother him." I saw that in the documents. It was phrased differently and put into poetic legalese, but I didn't understand it any clearer then than I do now. A closet? What kind of grown man locks himself in his work closet, and what's actually in there? "You know what? I think I'll just settle in and figure it all out myself. I need to learn where things are anyway. Thank you for everything, Champagne. I mean it. I'll see you at the meeting." Champagne gives me a happy smile and leaves me to it. Only she doesn't know me well enough yet to know that there's only so much shit I take from men at this point. I unlock the phone per the instructions laid out for me and send my new boss a text.