Paid In Full

I would have thought I would be more afraid walking into the lion’s den, but I see what everyone else does. A club. Decadent. Exclusive. An escape from reality to those of carnal pleasures. Both private rooms and exhibitionist platforms. Filled with those that dance and tease, as well as those that do a whole lot more. My dress is black, and simple, yet tight enough that the sensation could be mistaken for the ropes that tie down some of those I pass. Restrictive.

The dark hall leads deeper, to where people are scarce. Only giggles in the shadows of corners, and doors that click shut. It’s a maze in here. To think of what happens behind the closed doors. My blood races for one question, would I prefer to watch or be watched? No. Neither. That is not why I am here. My destination is ahead. A door at the end of the corridor, and one obstacle barring it.

“I need to see Mr. Walker.”

Is it compulsory for even security personnel to be attractive here? Sharp, green eyes retreat down my body and take it over. I’d believe it if he told me he could see beneath my clothes. He’s intimidating. Broad. Tall. My face barely to his chest. The only thing to break the darkness of his black clothes is his tan skin and golden hair. He lounges in the doorway, but it isn’t relaxed. A predator who lays in wait.

“Name?” he asks.

He smiles, and it doesn’t express happiness. It shows off his teeth. Silently, he steps close. Head bowed over mine.

“Alexa.”

My feet back up of their own accord. Match his steps one for one until my back hits the wall. His hands find it too, either side of my face. He leans in. Sniffs. Slow. So close to my skin it tickles, and right where my jaw meets my neck. It should be weird. People don’t sniff people like that. But with him it isn’t. It is like everything else about him. Animalistic. He repeats my name, but it’s different to when I say it. Same syllables, deeper tones.

“What do you need, Alexa?” he asks.

I need to remove these clothes between us. I need to climb all over him. I need him to make me purr.

“To speak with him. Personal business.”

He’s not actually touching me, but I doubt he misses the tremble.

“I need more than that,” he says.

So do I. Heat from his words travels a direct route. He definitely doesn’t miss my jaw tense, but hopefully it covers the mirror action in my thighs.

“Money.”

He leans back only enough to take in my length again. His teeth flash wider, before he fully relinquishes my personal space. Walks away. Swipes a sensor at the door with the key pass from his pocket.

“Come,” he says.

I do, but I stumble. My body wants that word to mean something else when he says it. The door closes behind us and with it the music of the club dies. Silence. The waiting room is dimly lit with panels that underline the walls. More simplistic than rest of the club. Minimalist. Sleek. Polished concrete and black chairs cut out of cubes. He doesn’t take me to them, he takes me to the door on the far side. Doesn’t knock, only swipes it open like the other. He holds it open long enough for my entrance and follows me in.

I expected a man behind a desk, but this is more like a personal library. Similar style to the room before but lined with floating shelves and books. Killian reclines with a laptop, sat on one half of a low-cut two-seater couch. My escort takes a seat on a couch opposite him.

“They’re not here yet?” Killian asks him.

He shakes his head, and Killian looks up to me.

“We don’t have time, Reik,” he says with a nod in my direction.

Reik. It suits him. I want his name to be dragged from my lips in pleasure. That name, the one I should thank after I cum. He shoots me another smile as if he knows my thoughts.

“She’s here for business. Different business,” Reik says.

Killian closes the laptop. Places it on the long, asymmetrical coffee table between them. Reik isn’t the only one who’s eyes are if they can see my thoughts and Killian makes him look like a puppy. Hard to tell with them sitting down, but they seem a similar height. Killian has less bulk though. More streamlined muscle. His hair is dark. Cropped. Fades from nothing on the sides to longer on top. Reveals a tattoo behind his ear. Thin lines. Intricately detailed. He somehow makes it look not obnoxious.

“Alexa,” Reik beckons for me.

My feet are glued. Killian doesn’t say a word. Eyes on me, face a mask. Reik pulls his phone from his pocket, the screen lit, and he stands.

“They’re here,” he says to Killian. “But they can wait.”

He moves me. Hands on my shoulders, they unstick my feet. Positions me over to the couch. Sits me in his empty spot and he leaves us, with me trapped by the pale irises of Killian. The door clicks shut behind him.

“What business?” Killian asks, breaks his hold on me.

“I need money.”

“How much?” he asks.

He doesn’t move. It’s impossible to tell if he even breathes. So controlled. All contained.

“Hundred thousand.”

“For what?” he asks.

“Does that matter?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Debt. Drugs.”

His eyes leave mine, trail down. Slowly. Return to my face.

“You’re not a user,” he says.

It isn’t a question, but I shake my head anyway.

“No, I am not.”

“Then why do you owe the money?” he asks.

“My brother, it’s his debt.”

“Then why isn’t he here?” he asks.

“He isn’t dealing with it, and someone needs to before people get hurt.”

“You’ve been threatened?” he asks.

“Not directly. He wants me to hide. I just want it over.”

“A loan is just a loan,” he says. “Why not start paying them yourself instead of having to pay me?”

“They beat him. It seems they are out of patience. I am hoping you have more while I fix this.”

“Who’s they?” he asks.

“Aleksander Dunn.”

Killian’s mask cracks for the first time. Cracks hard. He laughs. Surprisingly warm, but he doesn’t let me in on the joke. He stands, walks to the end of one of the rows of shelves. There’s a gap between it and the next wall. It houses a seamless metal door. A safe. His thumb pushes against a pad on the front. It opens. He pulls two stacks of cash. Closes it. Walks back and resumes his seat. Money on the table. He waves a hand towards it.

“And do you plan to just walk out carrying it for the world to see?” he asks.

I didn’t bring a bag. I didn’t think he would hand it over straight away, or even at all. I mean. Who just has that much cash on them?

“I, uh.”

He laughs again. My cheeks heat. He is teasing me.

“Don’t worry, little Alexa. We will get your debt paid,” he says.

This is too easy.

“What are your terms?” I ask.

His eyebrows raise. Feign shock.

“Do you find yourself in a position to turn them down?” he asks.

“No, but I don’t know what they are.”

“We will get to that, but for now, shall we clear up things with Aleksander?” he asks.

He doesn’t wait for my response. He stands. Walks to the door. My head follows him, but my body stays put. Glued much the same way my feet were. He opens it. Stops.

“Aleksander,” he says to the other room. “Come in, it seems we have a mutual friend.”