Bane (Sinners of Saint #4)(7)
I’d sniffed around before I’d called Darren. His grandfather had bought oil fields in Kuwait before all the cool kids did it. Morgansen was barely keeping the family business alive. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. He had a wife and a stepdaughter, and a shit-ton of people with mustaches telling him what to do.
“And how much do you need from me?” he asked.
“Six mill,” I said, unblinking. He rubbed the back of his neck. For a second, I thought he was going to tell me to get the fuck out of there and throw something sharp at me. But he didn’t. He glanced around. Scratched his face. Downed his bullshit-expensive scotch like a champ, wincing afterwards, then—and only then—met my gaze, defeat shining in his eyes. “Fine.”
“Fine?” I echoed, almost dumbly. That was it? Fine? Whatever this guy was high on, I wish I could sell it.
“Fine, I will shell out the money. You can have three mill upfront.”
“I don’t need three mill upfront. There is no guarantee I will get the land,” I spat out. My instincts told me there was a catch, but Darren looked as harmless as a fucking Teletubby. Dude couldn’t play Twister, let alone someone like me.
“You will, when they thee my name on it. Anyway, conthider it a gethture of goodwill. I don’t need your equity.”
“Are you on something right now? Because we can’t have business together if you’re a junkie. Pot is fine, but if you’re on meth, I need to know.” I scratched my cheek with the edge of my joint, one eyebrow raised in amusement.
He gave me his version of a sneer, and I’ve seen more character on faces of goddamn goats. “I don’t need your equity. It’th not money I’m after. I have enough of it. I want thomething elth from you. As I thaid before, I heard all about you, Bane. I know who you are, and what you do. What I need from you ith not to make me richer. I need you to help my thtepdaughter.”
What you are.
What you do.
Holy hairy shitballs, Stepdaddy Darren wants his kid to get laid.
The first question I had in mind was how ugly was this daughter of his, exactly? Was she Quasimodo-ugly? With the amount of money and resources this chick had, hopefully she could at least pass as cute. Maybe not hot as shit, but surely, fuckable to someone. Anyone. Luckily, I was twenty-five, and when you’re twenty-five, you find everything bone-able, pencil sharpeners included. If he wanted me to screw his stepdaughter for six million dollars, I would get my lawyer to draft this shit tonight and by morning, she’d be so thoroughly fucked she’d have a few extra holes and orgasm-induced foggy brain for days. I’d even throw in oral and after-sex spooning for good measure, because it wouldn’t feel right not to give her a little extra for all this cash.
“That’s fine.” I waved him off. “I usually do a six month contract, no exclusivity clause. Twice a week. Condom is non-negotiable, and I want her tested before I touch her.” I’d been told I was a good-looking son of a bitch, and I never knew when I’d need to stick my dick in someone as a favor or to gain something. As it was, I stopped taking on new clients for money. Cash simply stopped being an incentive once all my bills were paid and my mom was taken care of. But no one told me my dick was worth so much. The Morgansen kid’s stepdaddy sure knew how to spoil her.
Darren shook his head, panic smeared all over his face.
“Wait, what? Oh, Lord. No. No. No, no, no.” He flapped his hands around frantically, coughing. I straightened in my seat, not really sure how this guy was not dead from a heart attack already. “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t want you to thleep with her. In fact, if there ith one clauth I want in, it’th one where you promith not to make a move on her. I want you becauth you’re for hire, and you do ath you’re paid to do, nothing leth, nothing more. Jethy doethn’t have many friendth. She’th been through a lot, and she jutht needth thomeone. A companion. I want you to help her gain her confidenth back and make thome friends. To hire her for your café, tho that she will have to leave the house every day. It will be thtrictly platonic. Jethy ith untouchable. She doethn’t let people touch her.”
Jesse. But, of course, his stepdaughter has a name he can’t properly pronounce. Poor bastard.
What was this Jesse girl’s deal? She didn’t even bother answering her stepdad, even though she was obviously there. It was tough luck that she sounded like a spoiled princess, because I was going to take the job, even if I needed to hear about her shopping sprees with mommy dearest until my ears fell off. For a few hundred thousand dollars, I wouldn’t have bothered. But there was so much money on the line, and such a lucrative investment, Jesse had just bought my attention. And, to an extent, my affection, too.
“What does this job entail?” I asked, fingering my beard.
“Her therapitht thays she needth a job. Any job. Hire her. Humor her. Court her. But don’t touch her.” His quivering fingers danced across the edges of his planner again. “Breathe life into her.”
“Is she…” I didn’t know how to articulate it without sounding like a politically incorrect dick. Slow? Impaired in any way? Not that it mattered, but I needed to know what I was dealing with here. Darren shifted in his seat.
“She’th a very bright kid. She jutht needth a little push back into thothiety.”
“Why?”