Chapter 6 Chapter six
In the course of his thirty-two years on the planet, Mav had taken a lot of risks…all of them calculated. He’d also made a handful of unfortunate dumbass decisions. But until now, not a damn one of them had been made by his dick.
He shouldn’t be thinking about taking his friend’s daughter upstairs to a private room, baring her ass, then spanking it. Yet that was precisely what he planned to do.
Some fucking hero I am.
“What will it be, Charlotte?”
When she spoke, her words resonated with confidence, bringing him to his knees. “Yes. I want to play with you.”
He eased off the barstool and offered his hand. This time, she took it. He leaned forward so that his mouth was near her ear before he said, “I’m giving you one last chance to run.”
The desire in his eyes made her shiver. “Are you planning to hurt me?”
“Very much so. In the exact ways you want.”
“Then why are you warning me away?” Breathlessness weaved through her words, curiosity and wariness mixing.
“For a million reasons. Especially because I respect your father.”
She angled her chin and delivered a ferocious scowl. He schooled himself not to respond.
“You picked a fine time to discover some integrity, Mav.”
He imagined she hoped to offend him. “If I may continue…?” He didn’t wait for permission before going on, this time with steel in his words. “This is a matter of integrity. I don’t care whether you think I have any or not. Without Ryan’s belief in me, Maverick Media wouldn’t be where it is today. I owe him a debt. If we go forward, you’ll be mine.”
“I don’t belong to anyone.”
“That’s why I’m offering you one last chance to tell me to go to hell. If you don’t, you might regret it.”
“Your conscience is annoying.”
All his life, Mav had avoided entanglements. He’d seen what had happened to his dad, after his mother had given up, abandoning her kid and the man who’d knocked her up and refused to marry her. His father had drunk too much, struggled to keep a job after the coal mine closed up, brought home too damn many women, some who hadn’t known he had a kid. Mav learned to use a can opener when he was four, the stove when he was five.
At nine, a teacher had recommended him for a summer camp, the first really good thing that had happened to him. He’d gotten out of the hellhole of a trailer where he lived, and he’d been served both breakfast and lunch every day. Best of all, he’d learned how to record videos.
He’d attended some acting sessions and received voice coaching. Once the little light on a camera started blinking, he turned into a different person, someone he wanted to be. He thrived on the attention his videos garnered. It became his obsession, the thing that helped him hang on.
He began teaching others what he knew, running their sites, earning money and hoarding it beneath his shabby mattress so his dad didn’t find it. Mav was fifteen when his father discovered the cash. He’d called his son vile names before beating the shit out of him.
With a black eye and broken ribs, Mav had grabbed his camera and the forty bucks that his old man had missed. The screen door had slammed behind him. Doubled over, his father shouting curses from their rickety front porch, Mav limped away, and he hadn’t ever looked back.
Every day, he got in front of his first love, his savior the camera and recorded something. It was as essential to him as breathing. Charlotte was right. A lot of his words were fucking harsh. Too bad. So was life. He had no time for coddling. Grinding was the only way to beat the odds stacked against success. It meant pushing all the time, and all the time, he reminded himself and his subscribers of that.
Through the years that he’d fought through poverty and hunger, he never lost sight of his goal. Security. For that reason, he’d avoided entanglements.
Until now, he’d never been tempted. Until Charlotte.
“What’s it to be?” he asked. If she agreed, he was stepping onto a forbidden path. And there’d be no turning back for either of them. “Frustration or satisfaction?”
“No matter what, I’m afraid I’m going to end up disliking you.”
No doubt. Right now, he has a lot of power. “It’s a risk I’m prepared to take.”
For a long time, she studied him, contemplating. “Are you at least halfway decent Dom?”
“Am I as…?” His mouth twitched. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
“If you’re going to ruin my life, you’d better make it worth my while.”
“Princess, you have my word that you won’t go back to school unsatisfied.” He extended an inviting hand toward her.
With a sigh, she pressed her palm against his. “So brave.” So foolish.
She slipped from the stool and very nearly into his arms. Fuck if he didn’t want her there.
Together, they walked back to the main reception area. Aviana wasn’t near the podium, but Trinity was. He knew very little about the woman, and he suspected she liked it that way. Her hair was a sleek hot-pink bob that fell over her face, often shielding her completely. Her eyes were violet, a color that didn’t exist in nature. And always, she wore a tight-fitting catsuit, either vinyl or PVC.
She greeted them with a smile. “Something I can help you with, sir?”
“We’d like a private room.”
Trinity brushed back her hair and tucked it behind her ear. “You’re consenting, ma’am?”
Has everyone heard about the minor altercation at the bar?
“Yes.” Charlotte nodded. “Thank you for asking, Trinity.”
Trinity grabbed a book from a shelf in the podium, then logged them in. “Room five.”
“My lucky number.”
“Please check back when you’re done.”
After a promise to do so, he led Charlotte toward the coat-check room to collect his toy bag.
While they waited, Charlotte turned toward him. “Five’s your lucky number?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I earned five bucks for the first video I shot. The kid at school was skateboarding, he wanted to see for himself.”
“Hustling even back then.”
“Five led to fifty. Then five hundred.” And broken bones, but an unshakable determination.
The clerk returned with his bag. Mav gave a tip, then looked at Charlotte. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
Her breathing had evened out, letting him know that she’d moved past her frustration at least for the moment. He liked seeing this relaxed side of her.
They pushed through the frosted-glass door into the dungeon and were swallowed by the pulsing sounds and sights. “How often do you attend?”
“I’m not going to answer that.”
Which meant it was pretty damn often, something he intended to put an immediate stop to. He tightened his grip on his bag. Another valuable lesson. Never ask a question unless you want to hear the answer.
Near Saint Andrew’s cross, her steps slowed, and she touched his forearm. “Can we watch for a moment?”
“Of course.” It was the first time she’d touched him without his prompting. At this point, he’d gift wrap the moon and offer it to her on a star.