Emma fell back against the kitchen counter, the force of her sister’s words like a gut punch. Brody’s absolution of her shortcomings in the big sister department came back to her—she’d screwed up but she sure as hell wasn’t her sister’s keeper.
Anger flared. “Why the hell do you think I’m doing this, Daisy? Do you think I want to be shoving my tits in some guy’s face? Have you forgotten how we got here?”
“I know.” There was a thud. Sounded like she’d thrown something. “I know this is my fault. I’m the reason you’re doing this, so now I’ve whored you out.”
“No. It’s not like that. I’m just taking a few days off from the club.” And ignoring Ray’s calls.
“And this guy you’re with? Was Ray making that up?”
“It’s just Brody.”
A heavy silence followed. “Brody? Your boss, the billionaire?”
“Yes, he’s been a lifesaver. And don’t even say what I know you want to say. Because how is that any different from whoring myself out?” A moment ago, she was ready to fess up and ask for his help, but she couldn’t have Daisy think that using a guy for his billions was the answer.
Daisy sighed like Emma was being the difficult one here. “Have you thought any more about getting away?”
That wasn’t the answer either. “I don’t want to do that. I want to face it. Figure it out.”
“Ray’s not going to let you figure it out.”
But with Brody on her side, Emma could do anything. “Let me worry about that. Call you soon.”
The first thing she had to do was ensure Ray’s goons didn’t pay any more visits to her sister. Which meant she had to pay a visit to Ray. Or at the very least call him, because Brody would be back soon and he’d bind her to the bed with his sexy ties before he allowed her back to the club. She had no clue which was hotter: the idea of being restrained and at Brody’s mercy or his possessive growl when he was laying down the law.
Scrolling back up, she saw that a new message had come in from Lord Voldemort himself. Icicles of fear tightened her skin. Shit, no. The message had already been read—then she remembered what else was in the thread.
The video. It had been forwarded from her phone to…Brody’s number.
Gone to get bagels? Oh, hell.
…
“Thanks for agreeing to see me,” Brody said as he was ushered into Grigson’s back office. A little deference to the host always went a long way. “I’ve no doubt you’re a busy man.”
“Never too busy for a fellow businessman, Kane.” He looked at the business card Brody had given one of Grigson’s muscle to gain entrance, as if it could tell him exactly how much Brody was worth.
At least several thousand times more than you, Grigson.
“What can I do for you? A drink? A line of coke? A girl?” He grinned malevolently. “Or maybe you already have a girl. One of my girls.”
“I’m fairly sure that slavery was abolished in the nineteenth century,” Brody said. “Emma doesn’t need this job. I’m here to compensate you for your loss. Businessman to businessman.”
Grigson puffed up at that, evidently torn between the dent to his pride at losing Emma—the worst stripper ever, Brody was tempted to add—and his excitement at the prospect of an epic payday.
“How much are we talking about?” Brody asked casually as he took a seat opposite the ugliest desk he’d ever laid eyes on.
A snake’s smile curled Grigson’s lips. “So she hasn’t told you? In fact, I’ll bet she doesn’t even know you’re here.”
“How about I cut you a check for a hundred and we call it even?”
“As you’ve gone to all this trouble, I think you’ll be willing to pay more than that.”
White-hot rage seethed beneath Brody’s skin. “You’re making over and above your investment, Mr. Grigson. Don’t get greedy.”
He merely shrugged, an unspoken offer on the table. If not a hundred thousand, then perhaps a half a million. Or a million.
Would he pay a million to keep Emma safe? In a heartbeat. But a leech like Grigson wouldn’t stop there. He’d want more. He’d demand more.
This ended today.
He unpocketed his checkbook. “I think a hundred thousand should cover it.”
Grigson projected smug. “Let me show you something, Kane.” He pointed a remote at one of the large screens on the opposite wall, but Brody raised his hand before he could run the tape.
“I’ve seen it. In fact, Emma showed it to me and we had a nice time watching it and getting us in the mood.” He was tempted to wink, he felt that f*ck
ing good.
For the first moment since Brody had walked in, Grigson looked uncomfortable. “I know what happened with your former fiancée, how she threw you over for your father. Do you really want this video to get out? Another woman making a fool of you?”
Goddammit, as if he cared about this sex tape shit. Old, stick-in-the-mud, tree-trunk wedged in his ass Brody might have cared. Not this one. Not the guy who burned eggs and wore funny socks and had a complicated relationship with a demon cat.