Chapter 195: Company Dinner

DAVID’S POV

I left the room still buzzing, my body wrung out but my mind was anything but calm. Candy. That was what she’d called herself. A mask, a lollipop, and a cunt that swallowed me whole like it was made for me.

I needed to know who the fuck she was.

By the time I made it downstairs, my tie was loose, hair damp with sweat, my body still humming like I hadn’t finished. The woman at the counter glanced up, chewing gum lazily.

“I want her again,” I said flatly, planting my palms on the counter. “The girl upstairs. The one who calls herself Candy. I want her real name.”

Her brow arched, unimpressed. “Not how it works, sir.”

I clenched my jaw in frustration. “What do you mean, not how it works?”

She sighed, popped her gum, and leaned back in her chair like she’d had this conversation a hundred times before. “Names and faces stay hidden. It’s the golden rule. No one knows who the girls are. That’s part of the thrill…you don’t know who you’re banging, and you’re not supposed to.”

My hands curled into fists. “Don’t give me rules. Give me a number. A way to call her directly.”

At that, she smirked, reached under the counter, and slid a card across to me. A plain white business card with nothing but digits printed on it. “You want a special request? Call this line. We’ll fix the girl for you. But her name? Her face? Those stay locked away even when she comes for the home service. Don’t bother asking again.”

I stared down at the card. My pulse kicked up. “Then listen carefully, ma’am,” I growled. “Anytime I call, anytime, I want Candy. Only Candy.”

The manager gave a low laugh, shaking her head. “Of course you do. Candy’s everyone’s favorite here. But…”

She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Her price is higher, especially if you want her for home service. She doesn’t leave the house cheap, sir.”

I looked up sharply, a ridiculous wave of jealousy burning in my stomach. “Everyone’s favorite?”

She grinned, slow and smug. “We know who our clients prefer. But the rules don’t change. No faces. No names. You don’t get to know who’s under the mask. And that’s exactly why she’s in such high demand.”

If she’s everyone’s favorite, that means I’m sharing her with some random asshole. Some sweaty stranger with his dick where mine just was. The thought made my stomach twist.

What the fuck, Hunt? Get a grip. Are you really losing your mind over a whore in a mask?

This is a brothel, not a goddamn fairy tale. What the hell were you expecting…exclusivity? Loyalty?

Still, I slipped the card into my pocket, every nerve on edge, my blood still thrumming from her ride. Candy. Whoever the fuck she really was…she’d just made herself my new addiction.

And addictions? Addictions I always fed.

The company dinner was in full swing by the time I arrived, given that I had to take my time and doze off inside the car before leaving the brothel’s parking space.

I was so wasted and breathless, didn’t want to join them looking wrecked.

The long table was crowded with glasses, plates, and the low hum of conversations. Norman, of course, was holding court at the head, looking like the king of a kingdom built on cocktails and flattery.

I’d barely taken my seat when I heard her laugh.

Holly.

She was at the far end, sandwiched between two junior staff, her smile just the right shade of harmless. She wasn’t looking at me… yet.

Then she did.

That slow, measured glance across the table, like she’d just remembered I existed and wasn’t sure if it amused her or annoyed her.

“Hello Mr David,” she said once. Norman then insisted she switch seats to “mingle more.” Now she was across from me, a polite smile on her lips, the rest of the table oblivious to the fact she’d just shifted the whole energy.

“I didn’t know you’d make it.”

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” I replied, matching her smile with something perfectly neutral.

Norman chuckled from three seats away. “Be nice, you two. We’re here to celebrate, not start a war.”

If only he knew.

The conversation swirled around us…quarterly figures, market forecasts, jokes about the new intern spilling coffee on the copier. But Holly kept her attention half on me. She didn’t stare, didn’t linger, just… timed her glances like chess moves.

Once, her foot brushed mine under the table. Light. Casual. Like she didn’t even notice.

I noticed.

I shifted. She followed.

Her voice was soft when she leaned forward during a lull. “Big day for you, wasn’t it?”

“Define big,” I said evenly.

She tilted her head. “The kind of week people remember for a long time.” Then, before I could respond, she turned to the woman beside her and asked about her vacation, as if our exchange had never happened.

Smart.

Every brush of her hand, every stolen glance…it was all perfectly deniable, the kind of cute little game Holly thrived on. But it barely registered anymore.

She didn’t own my focus the way she once did. My mind had already slipped back to Candy…her body, her heat, the way she took me whole…while Holly kept tossing out her subtle little taunts, desperate sparks against a fire that no longer burned in her direction.

Not like it ever did.

By dessert, my jaw ached from keeping my expression steady. She’d played the part of the charming colleague flawlessly in front of the others, but I could feel the undercurrent in every move.

When everyone stood to leave, Holly brushed past me…close enough for her perfume to follow…and murmured, “It’ll be just you and I next time.”

I didn’t look back.

Because I already knew.

Next time, I wasn’t going to play nice.

The night air was sharp, carrying the faint scent of exhaust and the dull hum of the city. Dinner had ended in the usual way…polite laughter, handshakes, promises to “do this again sometime” that everyone knew were lies.

A few employees stood in small clusters on the sidewalk, some calling cabs, others hitching rides together if they lived in the same direction.

Holly was quiet. Not shy…she never was…just standing there in her black coat, hands tucked into the pockets, scanning the street like she was waiting for a very specific moment.

Norman noticed too. “Need a ride, Holly?” he asked, stepping toward her with that easy grin he used when he wanted something.

She shook her head, her voice casual but her eyes glinting with something that didn’t match the tone. “No, thanks. Someone special is picking me up.”

Special.

My ears pricked before my brain told them to mind their business.

I was already leaning against my Jeep a few feet away, hands in my pockets, looking for all the world like I didn’t care about the conversation. Which was true. Mostly.

I wasn’t interested in her. Not in that way.

But I wanted to see who “special” was.

Needed to.

If she had some new angle in this game she was playing, I wasn’t going to be blindsided.

Headlights swept across the street moments later and a car eased up to the curb.

And my stomach went cold.

Justin’s car.

My younger brother.

Wait…Justin is the special person?

What the fuck is she up to now?