Relinquish(43)

Landon sighs, rubbing at his tired eyes.

“Please,” I beg, tears pricking at my eyes. My anger, my fury, and dangerous state have dissipated to pure desperation. Landon’s head whips up from my trembling voice, his face taking on a look of sympathy.

“I’m just supposed to trust that you won’t try and run?” Landon questions, his tone lighter than he’s been speaking to me the whole night. I shrug, not sure what to say to that. He shouldn’t trust me, but I need him to.

He runs his hands through his hair and nods. A loud sigh leaves my mouth, relieved I will get to go home, even if it’s for the last time.

“I’ll send Osborn with you. He’ll be watching you throughout the night, and if you so much as try anything…” Landon lowers his head and glowers, the muscles in his jaw ticking. “That person who means so much to you—Jayden, was it—will suffer the consequences,” Landon threatens, making me swallow hard. “You will return bright and early tomorrow, arriving ready to start your position as an escort,” he continues.

“I will.” I nod quickly, sealing my fate as a sex slave for who knows how long. I thought getting a pimp was bad, but this? This is so much worse. I can feel it in my gut.

“Charlie, make sure and say your goodbyes, because tomorrow you’re mine fully. Kiss your old life, your friends, family, Mick, all farewell.”

I close my eyes, trying to hold the tears pricking at my eyes at bay. When I finally get a grip on myself, I find Landon picking up the phone from the floor.

“Osborn, I have a job for you tonight. I need you to take Charlie back to her place, and see to it that she does not go anywhere else. She is to return back to the estate at sunrise,” Landon demands before hanging up.

His demented green eyes find mine, eyes I used to find gorgeous yet all I see in them now is a monster. Landon clearly isn’t the guy I thought he was. Well, guess what? He doesn’t know who the hell he’s f*cking with. I won’t make my staying here easy on him.

“Enjoy your few hours of freedom, Charlie.”





THIRTEEN


LANDON


I slump in my chair, tearing my tie from my neck. I’m angry. So angry, I could throw this f*cking desk out the window. I can’t make up or down of this situation. When I saw her in the back of the limo, my chest constricted and my dick twitched to have her. Regret plowed through me like a sledgehammer for leaving her at that hotel. But I quickly reminded myself why I left. I lose control around Charlie, and I need to stay focused. She’s a problem, a very big problem. She gets under my skin, causes me to question why I’m even running this estate.

It’s my legacy to sit in this chair and hustle women, but it’s a promise that has kept me here. A promise that I would restore the Blackwell name, but Charlie has me questioning all of it.

She told me no. She f*cking told me no. Nobody tells me no. No woman turns down a position at the Blackwell Estate. It irritates me, yet makes my cock hard at the same time. She told me she was that boy’s whore when I met her, but I just thought she was being hard on herself. After the way the night unfolded, I was sure of it. However, after the last hour, I don’t know what to f*cking think.

“She gone?” Roman peeks his head around the door, looking around. I nod, rubbing my thumb and forefinger over my chin.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but that girl looks a lot like—”

“Don’t!” I interrupt, my fists clenching with anger. I know what he’s going to say. Father had me tailed, so I’m sure there were photos taken of Charlie at the hotel.

Roman sighs and slumps down in one of the chairs in front of my desk.

“I get it, man.”

“No, you don’t. That woman, that girl…” I point at the door and look at Roman, my forehead sweating from anger and confusion.

“Landon, you’re the only guy I know, Blackwell or not, who has never had a woman at some point bring him to his knees. Blackwell training be damned,” Roman explains, shaking his head.

We were trained growing up to resist temptation. After all, we sell women who use their bodies as paychecks, to gain what they want and need out of life. It’s up to us to resist it, to run a business.

Growing up in the Blackwell Estate, Roman and I were preached to daily about how sex clouds the mind, that lust is a drug and becomes addictive. It was repeated over and over by those who trained the Blackwells, dating back decades. I took it as an oath, and Roman took it as a challenge. We were taught how to control our urges, see women as objects rather than humans.

Roman’s always diving into forbidden *. He knows the rules yet still sneaks around with the escorts. That’s why the women have no respect for him. He’s just another client to them, using Roman like another man with a wallet.

I’m not saying I don’t have sex; I sleep with women all the time, but I don’t break rules. I don’t have sex with our escorts. I don’t have sex with any of our clients, and I don’t conspire with anyone who may know any of our clients or escorts. That’s the biggest rule for a Blackwell. But I’d be a damned liar if I said Charlie didn’t stick out amongst every female who spread their legs for me, making the laws of the estate a blur.

“Are you going to be able to handle her?” Roman questions, looking at me with concern. I swallow and close my eyes. I have to be able to handle her. In the end, though, Charlie will hate me.