The Arrangement: The Seduction (Kindle Worlds Novella) (2 page)

He’s not interested. I ignore the dip in my stomach and assure myself this is a good thing, since after the sex tape, I’ve sworn off all men.

Hours later, my legs ache and I’m rubbing my back when Tank yells for me to take a break. I’d go out back for fresh air, but I don’t like to walk alone to my car after work as it is. The restaurant clientele is long gone, and the bar crowd isn’t always safe. I’m not going to tempt fate by hanging out alone out there during a break when any sleazeball can come by and harass me.

Harassment happens anyway. I serve a rowdy group of guys I recognize from the university. One in particular is handsy, and he annoys me. I’m serving their second round now, and I hope it’s their last.

I lean over the table to place drinks in front of the far end when I feel a hand squeeze my ass. “Let go,” I say through clenched teeth. “Unless you want to see where Tank got his name.”

His friends whistle and make fun of him for getting turned down.

“She’s a tease and a cunt,” the guy mutters. “Everyone knows she’s a slut. See?” He pulls out his phone.

I know what’s coming, and I cringe as he plays my sex tape for his friends to see. I straighten my shoulders and ignore him, swallowing back tears. I need this job, no matter how big of an ass he is. I can’t make a scene, but I can deliberately wait to serve the jerk last.

“Guess you’re not up to her low standards,” his friend says, laughing.

I place the last drink in front of him, slamming it hard. Beer sloshes over the sides, onto the table. I already lost any shot of a decent tip with this group, so I really don’t care.

“Hey, bitch, you spilled on me,” the jerk says as he jumps up, his hands balling into fists.

I look from the liquid that drips off the table to the nice wet spot in the center of his jeans. Then I grin. “Yeah? Maybe it’ll cool you off, lover boy.” I turn and walk away without looking back.

This night sucks and can’t end fast enough.

“Rough time?” Callie, another waitress, asks. She’s older than me and bulkier. I think she works out in her spare time. I’m not sure. I don’t know her that well. Since I split time between school and work and study when I can, I don’t have time to socialize outside of work.

I nod. “A bunch of drunk assholes over there.” I jerk my thumb in their direction.

“Want me to take the table?” she offers.

I smile at her. She’s one of the nicer people I’ve met here. “Nah. I can handle them. But thanks.”

“I feel bad. I’ve got the hot guy in black, and you’ve got the assholes.”

I shiver at the reminder. “He’s still here?” I’ve been too
busy
to focus on him.

“He is. And he asked about you.”

“He did?”

Callie nodded, her smile wide. “He asked if you were involved with anyone.”

I blink in total surprise. Butterflies take off inside my stomach. Though I shouldn’t, I glance over my shoulder. He’s watching me. As if he knows we’re talking about him, he raises his bottle in acknowledgment.

“See?” Callie’s voice rises in excitement for me. “He’s nothing like the immature guys who normally come in here. I bet he doesn’t even know about you and … you know.”

I’ve already confided in her. I had to during my first week, when someone called out insults and I felt the need to explain.

“Not saying the words doesn’t change the fact that it happened.
Sex tape
. You don’t think he knows that I’m a porn star on the Internet?” I feel the disgust and self-loathing I normally keep at bay slide into me.

According to my mother, now no decent man will want anything to do with me. But who says Hot Guy is decent, a little voice inside me asks. Maybe he’s a bad boy who would be interested in someone like me. Someone who makes stupid mistakes and bad choices.

You’ve sworn off men, the more rational side of me argues. I rub at my temples.

“He’s not in college. Chances are he has no idea. Now stop being so hard on yourself.” Callie picks up the drinks Tank places on the bar and sets them on her tray.

“Tell me you’d be patting yourself on the back for a job well done if you were me?”

She laughs. “Chill. That’s all I’m saying.”

We go back to work. The night finally comes to an end. I’m the last one to finish wiping down my station and get myself together. I think I’m moving in slow motion thanks to the exhaustion seeping through me. I make sure my cell and tips are in my purse, sling it over my neck and shoulder, and start to head out.

Tank is on the phone, arguing with his girlfriend, when I wave good-bye. He winks at me and goes back to his conversation.

I walk into the parking lot. I live in the city and could take the subway, but that scares me more at this late hour than parking back here. Besides, if my parents are willing to continue to pay for the car and parking by the dorm, I’m not about to argue. The time will come when I give up the rest of the luxuries they provide, but I’m not ready. Not yet.

The humid summer air wraps itself around me, unwanted and uncomfortable. The cool breeze of my air conditioner is so close. My small BMW sits close by in a darkened corner. I wait until I reach the door before hitting unlock on the remote. A sense of unease ripples through me as I reach for the handle.

“Hey, bitch.”

And now I know why.

Bile rises in my throat, and I grip the car handle. Do I open it and try to jump in to escape? I don’t think I’d make it inside.

My heart’s pounding hard in my chest. “What do you want?” I ask.

“What you so willingly give in that video. I won’t let you make a fool of me in front of my friends,” the rude guy from the bar says.

He grabs my arm and wrenches me away from the car. I kick out at him, catching him in the shin.

He merely laughs. “You like it rough?” he asks, going directly for my skirt and yanking it down over my hips.

Oh hell no. I reach back to punch him like the Ferro brothers taught me when I was younger, but before I can throw down, he’s on the ground, being beaten by none other than Hot Guy, and he’s not letting up.

I scream for him to stop. He doesn’t listen. It’s like he’s on autopilot and won’t give up until the guy on the floor isn’t just bruised and battered but dead. I can’t let that happen.

“Stop!” I yell again, and since I can’t grab his arm without getting hit or jabbed by his elbow myself, I jump onto his back. My only focus is to stop him from killing the asshole who attacked me. “Enough!” I yell in his ear, my ribs taking the brunt of each punch as he draws his arm back over and over.

My screams finally seem to penetrate, and he stops beating the crap out of the other man. I slide off his back and plop down onto the hard ground beside him. He’s breathing heavily and so am I.

He flexes his bruised fingers. A glance at the other guy tells me he’s beaten to a pulp and out cold.

Suddenly I’m shivering as I realize I’m nearly naked in the parking lot and alone with a man capable of violence. I glance at the prone, bloody body and gag before turning away.

“Don’t look,” he says in a gruff voice.

“I won’t.”

He rises and strides over to me and holds out a hand, offering to pull me to my feet.

“I need to fix myself first.” I want to yank up my skirt, and I don’t need him watching me.

“Go ahead.” A slight grin tips the edges of his mouth, and his gaze never leaves mine.

“A gentleman would turn around.”

“A gentleman wouldn’t pound your attacker into the ground.”

I didn’t like the reminder. I wait, giving him a pointed glare.

Finally, he huffs out a laugh and pivots around. I rise and fix my skirt, adjusting myself until I’m comfortable. Then I spin back to face him.

“We need to get the hell out of here.” He jerks his head toward the now-moaning man on the ground.

“I think I should call 911.”

He shakes his head. “Not on your life. Let’s go.” He grabs my hand.

Electricity sizzles up my arm, zaps my brain, and settles into strategic body parts no man has reached before. “We can’t leave him here.”

“Unless you want me going to jail for defending you, you’ll put your sweet ass in my car.”

I frown at him. “I can drive myself home.”

“I take it you didn’t notice he also slashed your tires?”

“What?” I suck in a shallow breath, a combination of anger and disbelief shooting through me. I stalk to my car in the dark corner and bend down near the tires.
Now
I notice the flats.

“Seriously?” That asshole. I perch my hands on my hips. “How did he know which car was mine?”

A sexy smirk lifts Hot Guy’s mouth. I really wish I didn’t notice, but even with little lighting, how can I not?

“You’re the only one in that bar who reeks of money. Even in that waitress outfit, it’s obvious you have class.”

I find myself oddly flattered. I hear my parents telling me that I’m too stupid because I trust too easily. And this guy’s proven he’s dangerous. But he was dangerous on my behalf…

Still. I shore up my defenses.

“Come on. Get your sweet ass into my truck,” he says. Another order. “I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

With no choice, I nod. “Fine. I’m safe in my dorm room.” Except I remember my roommate won’t open the door and let me in. I also don’t want Hot Guy to know where I live. Safety first, after all. I mentally roll my eyes considering I’m already in over my head.

I chew on my lower lip. “You can just drop me off outside my friend’s place,” I say, changing my mind.

He lets out a frustrated groan. “We can debate this on the road. But I’m not
just
dropping you anywhere. I’ll make sure you get inside safely.” He prods me toward the other side of the lot, settling his hand on my lower back.

Forget zaps. Laser points of heat settle between my thighs. I really thought I was past responding to any man. But Hot Guy isn’t just any man.

“Before I get into that truck with you, I need to know your name.”

He shot me an exasperated look. “Zach.”

“Do you have a last name, Zach?” I annoy him with my question. It might have been on purpose, but I really do need his name. Of course, since I can’t tell anyone else his name, I might be taking it to my grave. But I don’t think so.

Yes, I am going with the instincts that made me a porn star.

“Anders,” he grits out. Then, before I know what’s happening, he lifts me up and carries me the rest of the way to his truck.

“Hey!” I slam my fists against his back, but he’s strong, and it doesn’t faze him.

“I’ll beat a man up for you, but I’m not going to prison because you want to talk my ear off.” He leans over, pulls the seat belt, and snaps it in place.

He smells delicious, like musky, sexy man, and I do my best not to sigh in approval.

He puts the key in and turns the ignition. The truck roars to life, and he starts out of the parking lot. I immediately give him the address to Robin’s apartment. Then I take out my phone and dial.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling 911.”

He slaps a hand to his head, grumbling something I miss. I anonymously report the beaten-up man in the parking lot and disconnect the call.

“Feel better?” he asks.

“Yes. At least he’ll get medical help.” I glance out the window, too aware of the man’s large presence in the front cab of the truck.

“She’d have to be an angel,” he mutters. He grips the wheel harder, winces, and eases up.

“Does it hurt?” I ask softly, knowing his hands must be sore. He defended me, and I haven’t thanked him.

“I can handle it.”

I want to help. “Do you happen to have a first-aid kit in here?” I open the glove compartment and am surprised when I find one. I pull out some antibiotic cream and gauze.

He ignores me.

A few minutes later, he pulls up to Robin’s address and parks the truck. I know he intends to walk me to the door, so I reach for him first. “Let me see.”

His hand is so much bigger than mine, long fingers, calloused from work, and he’s warm to the touch. I turn his palm down and run my hand over his bruised knuckles.

He sucks in a breath. Shudders as if he’s affected by the contact. And suddenly I’m hot too.

“You didn’t have to go that far with him,” I say, speaking of the beating he gave the other man. I lift Zach’s hand and blow gently on the battered skin, hoping to remove any dirt before I dab some cream onto a gauze pad.

“He shouldn’t have touched you,” he says in that tough voice.

“Why do you care?” I swallow my fear and ask the question that’s been lingering on my mind for weeks. “Why do you watch me but never sit at my station? Never talk to me?” Until tonight.

He hesitates. “Conflicting desires,” he finally says, the words a puzzle.

I look up, confused. I expect to see his green gaze on me, but he’s staring out the window into the dark night. I wonder what he means, what tears him up inside, but I don’t ask. It seems too personal, and if he wants me to know what he’s thinking or feeling, he’ll say.