Chapter Four

Two Years and Five Months Later (Present Day.)

He’d called me by name. The stranger who I was quite sure I’d never met before knew my name. More than that, he knew exactly who I was.

Two years, that's how long I’d spent learning how to live like a ‘ghost’. I'd taken all the right steps, even going as far as altering my looks; my red-hair had been dyed to black— I could hardly recognize my own self beneath the layers of makeup I applied daily, yet, he had recognized me.

Who was this man? Was he working with Jefferson?

Even the thought of it sent chills running down my spine.  Jefferson's torments didn’t end after my escape. No, I still see him every night—in my dreams, and in those dreams he remained the hunter and I, the prey, forever running but never truly free. I hated him and yet, I feared him just as much. More than anything, I feared the day he’d find me. Now, I couldn’t help but wonder if that day had finally come.

No, I didn’t think this man worked for Jefferson, the Bishopp would never have sent me to him if that was the case. Plus, there was something about him that told me he was a man in power.        

I let my gaze meet his dark blue ones.

I didn’t come this far to let one man destroy everything. So I did what I did best. I acted.

A disbelieving laugh escaped me, “You flatter me. But I assure you, I am no Luna.” That part wasn’t exactly a lie. “I am Ruby, a stripper and no more.”

Ruby was the name The Bishopp had given me the day I’d showed up on his front lawn begging for a job.  

“A stripper and no more,” he repeated. They were my own words thrown back at me and yet I couldn’t help but flinch. “I find that hard to believe.” 

Working as an adult-entertainer wasn’t exactly among my top picks for jobs, in fact, it was another thing the old Eloise would never have stooped so low to do. But she was dead, and I, I was ready to do just anything it took to survive—even if it meant enduring endless assaults from clients who didn’t know their limits. But it wasn’t like I had an alternative choice. I knew without a single doubt that Jefferson was out on a lookout for me, I needed all the protection I could get. The Bishopp might be a hard man but he guarded his assets and investment as he would his own life, and to him, I was just that, an asset. 

“When do we get to the good part?” I questioned seductively, shifting the conversation back to the topic I had more control over. “The part with less talking and more… dancing?”

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. My chest tightened with nerves—it was like day-one all over again. I could still remember the first time I’d been called upon. I’d been so nervous and that had irritated my client. In the end, he’d communicated his dissatisfaction to The Bishopp, and I’d been punished for that. That was the last time a client had left unsatisfied, and I was determined to make sure it remained so.

“You spent a fortune to have me for the next hour. I wouldn’t waste that if I were you.”

It had nothing to do with my enthusiasm to ‘perform’ before this stranger, but everything to do with the fact that I didn’t think I’d be able to hold on to this facade if he continued with those questions. 

A smirk stretched at the corner of his lips, and I found my gaze lingering. I quickly shifted it back to meet his. 

“Now I understand why the men around here won’t stop talking about you,” he said, “And why Adolphus charges an outrageous amount for you.”

Only those in very close circle with the Bishopp knew his true name—infact, the only reason I knew the name was because I’d accidentally overheard a conversation he’d been having with a close cousin of his. This solidified my earlier assumption, whoever this man is, he had to be a very important figure.  

“Yet, I doubt pleasure is why you’ve come,” I said to him.

“Why is that?”

I shrugged, “I’ve been standing right before you for at least twenty minutes now and you haven’t even looked at me once”

I was good at what I did because I'd mastered the art of ‘learning’ my clients. It takes me no more than minutes to know their turn ons and what buttons to push, but with this man I was left completely… clueless and it frustrated me more than I’d like to admit.     

His gaze shifted from my face, and then slowly he let them trail down the see-through piece I had on, before returning back. The darkened look in his eyes filled me with a strange satisfaction.

“And you don’t seem like the type who frequents brothels and… pleasure houses either.” I admitted.

“I never realized I looked that much of a gentleman.” He mused.

In truth, he looked nothing like a gentleman, in fact, the opposite was the case. There was something savage about him, and it wasn’t just the tattoo of a dying tulip-flower running down his neck and disappearing into his suit collar, no, it was the look in those dark, hooded eyes that gave him away

Still, I could tell he wasn’t one for brothels. Why pay for pleasure when many would jump at the chance to do just that?

The man had the looks many women would find not only attractive, but… sexy in many ways than one.

“If you aren't here for a good time… then why exactly are you here?”

“You are mistaken, Ruby.” I didn’t miss his emphasis on my given-name, “I'm no different from any other man who’d walked through those doors, and I want just the same.”

But he was. He was so much different.

Still, taking a deep breath, I closed the distance between us.

He might be complicated, but I was going to learn him just as I'd done others before him—it couldn’t be so hard, could it?