Corrupt - Douglas Penelope (книги .TXT) 📗

But it was obvious they were after something. They pushed people. That’s what they did. And they’d keep pushing me until I started holding my ground and quit backing away.

What else you got?

What else did I have? I was taught to be brave from my father. Dip your toe in every ocean and try everything and anything. Learn, explore, take the world on…

And from my mom, I learned self-sufficiency. Of course, she’d taught me by default, but watching her showed me exactly who I didn’t want to be.

And from Michael—as well as Damon, Will, and Kai—I learned to breathe fire. I learned to walk as if the path were carved for me and me alone, and to treat the world as if it should know I was coming.

Did I practice any of it? Of course not. I was a mouse, and that was why I got on my bikini and got in the damn car. I wanted to be different.

I wasn’t tapping out this time.

The drive was quiet, and I spent the whole time focused out the window, happy that they’d turned up the music and killed any possibility of conversation.

After valets took the cars, they led the way into the house, and I followed in my black leather flip-flops, suddenly relaxing at the sight of so many people.

I wouldn’t feel unsafe here.

The architecture of the mansion was modern—lots of windows and glass, as well as sharp edges and white everywhere. There were serval levels with balconies, each jutting out of the house at varying lengths and widths, and as we strolled in, I could tell immediately that this was a Storm party.

Michael’s basketball team.

There was sports paraphernalia sitting around, and serval of the guests, including the ones I’d just arrived with, towered over everyone else.

A moment of alarm hit me when I saw all the guys in suits without ties, but then I calmed down again, seeing the women, some in club wear and others in swim wear like me.

“Jake.” Michael shook hands with a guy a few inches taller than him and then turned to me. “Erika, this is Jake Owen. A teammate. This is his house.”

I offered a half-smile, shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, his eyes gentle. “You’re very beautiful.” And then he looked to Michael. “You sure you want the rest of the team to see her before you get a ring on her finger?”

Michael hooded his eyes, shaking his head as he brushed off his friend’s joke.

“I dated his brother, actually,” I told him. “We grew up together.”

“Really?” He straightened, looking at me with more interest. “Well, I’d love to hear some basketball stories from his youth. Michael, as I’m sure you know, isn’t much for sharing.”

I grinned, knowing exactly what he was talking about. But then something caught my eye, and I looked over, seeing Alex. Will was pulling her up the stairs, a grin plastered on his face.

Alex was here? And why was she going off with Will?

I then saw Kai and Damon take their drinks and head out to the patio.

I turned back to Jake, blinking and remembering myself. “I…” I stammered, “I’m afraid there’s not much I could tell you. I didn’t watch his games in school. I’m sorry.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed just a sliver.

Yeah, I’d been to every basketball game he played in high school. No, I couldn’t tell you a single play or what teams they beat. I wasn’t paying attention to that.

Backing away with a small smile, I excused myself and left them alone. I was sure Michael didn’t intend for me to hang on him all night, and I needed some space.

And maybe a drink, too.

I SPENT THE NEXT HALF HOUR or so wandering around the downstairs, acting like I cared about the artwork and the sculptures, before finally hitting the bar for a drink.

Thankfully the guys had left me alone and I hadn’t seen them since we arrived. Taking my rum and Coke outside and feeling the alcohol slowly warm my blood, I noticed all of the people in the enormous pool. No one was swimming, but it was plenty spacious for lounging and enjoying the last bit of balmy summer air.

On the far end of the pool were rock cliffs and a waterfall display, and I cocked my head, peering over to notice what looked like a secret cave behind the falls.

Looking around, I noticed that the guys were still AWOL, so I quickly slid my shirt down my arms and my shorts off. Laying my clothes and sandals on a lawn chair, I grabbed my drink and slid into the pool.

The water reached my waist, and I fluffed my hair, bringing it over my left shoulder as I hung around the edge of the pool, sipping my drink.

Closing my eyes, I tilted my head back and finally felt the tension leave my face.

Finally.

“Hey,” a voice greeted.

I popped my eyes open and looked up to see Alex, a bottle of Patron and a couple of shot glasses in her hands. She wore a red bikini with several long, thin gold necklaces around her neck and big hoop earrings in her ears.

“You look a little happier than the last time I saw you,” she observed.

I nodded, tipping my glass up to her. “This helps.”

“Psh,” she scoffed, setting down her things and hopping into the pool. “That’s not a drink.”

And she poured two quick glasses of the tequila, taking one for herself and handing me the other.

I fought not to turn up my nose, because hard liquor—not mixed with anything else—was agony for me.

However, I wanted to relax—for once—and I didn’t fear the guys or any advantage they would take if I got buzzed. Between the four of them, they wouldn’t need alcohol to subdue me, so if that’s what they were after, I was as good as dead drunk or sober anyway.

I downed the shot, the liquid scorching my throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing again and again as I tried to get rid of the taste my mouth. I didn’t think she’d brought lemons, unfortunately.

God, I was a girl.

Blowing out a breath and getting over the pungent taste, I set the glass down, seeing her refill them.

“So I have to ask,” I started, still forcing down the taste in my mouth. “What’s with the ‘I see lots of men’ line?”

The corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk, and she turned around handing me the shot glass, now full again.

“And I know Will took you upstairs before, and it was Michael the other night?” I went on, giving her a playful look.

She shrugged, looking guilty. “I know lots of men. As in, I get paid to know lots of men.”

Paid? She got paid to know men and spend time with them?

And then my eyes widened, realization hitting. “Ohhh. Right.”

She smiled, blushing as she took her shot.

She was an escort. A prostitute. Wow.

I followed her lead, taking the shot and trying anything to help me wrap my head around that one. Michael had been with her that night. He’d hired her?

“You can’t tell anyone, though.” She pointed at me, her voice thick with the burn of the alcohol. “My clients are mostly wealthy and well-known.”

I set the glass down, stepping out a few inches away from the edge and brushing the surface of the water with my hands.

She had sex with men—and women, now remembering what she said in the elevator—and she got paid for it. And she lived in my building.

I wasn’t sure if that was better than when I thought she was Michael’s girlfriend.

I’d always been a little jealous when Michael had girls around growing up. Even when I was little. I wanted him.

But over time, Michael’s routine was something that never faltered. He took, he enjoyed, and at times, he dated. But no one ever became permanent.

But knowing she was just sex kind of pissed me off, too. She was only floors away at any given time, and he could call her up when whenever he felt the need.

“Don’t worry. I haven’t slept with Michael,” she spoke up as if reading my mind.