When I didn’t move, he sat in his chair, leaned back and steepled his fingers. “You might want to go get ready.”

“Oh! Right! Thank you!” I hustled out of the room, but not before my ears caught a faint chuckle that had my toes curling at the sound of it.

If I wasn’t careful, I was going to be in big trouble where Xavier O’Brien was concerned.

“Let’s get this party started,” Candy shouted when I slid in the back of the limo. She and Brandy were on the same bench as me. Ghost was across from us with Cherry sitting next to him, and two girls I had never met before were on the seat along the side of the car.

Candy handed me a glass of champagne, clinking her glass to mine then downing it in one go. I sipped mine and smiled at Brandy, who rolled her eyes at Candy’s theatrics.

“Hi. I’m Tasha,” the blonde with killer legs introduced herself.

“And I’m Daisy,” the redhead with a great rack said next to her.

“Aurora.” I gave them each a wave and ignored Cherry’s snort of disapproval. She was such a bitch. No way in hell would I sink to her level.

Candy went to refill her glass, stopping short when Ghost leveled a disapproving look on her.

“Come on,” she whined to the man. “It’s here. Why not enjoy it?”

“Because I don’t feel like having to crack heads tonight and that’s exactly what will happen if you show up drunk to this party,” he said ominously.

“I can hold my booze better than that,” she huffed but still set the bottle aside, following his unspoken edict.

The car came to a stop a couple minutes later and we all filed out, looking in awe at the palatial estate we pulled up to. It was a full-on mansion right down to the stone pillars and fancy terraces. Night and day from where I lived just ten miles down the road.

Ghost rang the doorbell while we waited. We were all silent except Cherry, who was bragging to Tasha about her threesome the night before.

Daisy gave her a look of annoyance. When she saw I caught her dirty look, she winked at me and blew a bubble with her gum. I bit the inside of my cheek so as not to laugh.

Butterflies started some hardcore fluttering in my stomach when we heard someone on the other side of the door. This was it. A big gig and big expectations. I only hoped I could deliver.

A butler opened the door and showed us through the large foyer and down a hall into a massive den where there were at least a dozen, if not more, men smoking cigars and playing poker.

One of the men jumped up and hooted when he saw us. “Girls are here,” he yelled, causing all the men to drop their cards and turn in our direction.

Cherry immediately sprung into action, strutting over to the tables and turning this way and that as they reached out to get a touch of her. What I wouldn’t give to be that outgoing. It was the only thing I admired about the vapid bitch of a beauty.

Tasha, Daisy and Brandy followed suit, leaving Candy and me standing in the doorway with Ghost.

“You ready for some fun?” Candy asked me, grabbing my hand and leading me further into the room. Thank God she was there. It made it easier for me to loosen up and not be so nervous.

One of the guys had a remote in his hand and was pointing it to the large built-in entertainment center when Ghost barked out over everyone’s voices, “Dancing only. You want more than that, you come see me first.” His tone brooked no arguments and the hard glare he gave the room dared anyone there to go against him.

Well alright, then. Time to party.

The man of honor's name was Bradley. He was the son of the next Republican vice-presidential candidate and he loved me if the amount of twenty-dollar bills he was stuffing in my G-string as I gyrated over his crotch was anything to go by.

It was a small price to pay for how handsy he seemed to be. With each grope, I remembered what I could do with that money.

It was about an hour after the party started, and several men had already taken girls off into other rooms to enjoy some more intimate services.

Cherry was permanently suction-cupped to a senator, who practically motor boated her boobs at one point. I even thought I had seen her giving him a handjob in the corner, but I couldn’t be sure.

Candy was currently off giving head to a famous actor while the other girls were dancing nude for the rest of the men.

Bradley’s hands cupped my ass when I bent over in front of him, and I fought my instinct to slap them away. New shoes for Sophie, I reminded myself.

Standing up straight, I flung my hair over my shoulder and swung my hips from side to side. All of a sudden a loud smack landed on my right ass cheek, followed by several men’s snickers. I yelped and spun around to see Bradley looking rather pleased with himself.

“You son of a—” I never got to finish the statement because Bradley was no longer in his chair.

The room fell silent with the exception of the music playing in the background as everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at Ghost, who had Bradley suspended in the air by nothing more than his fist in his shirt. Bradley’s face had drained of all color and I almost laughed when it looked like he was ready to shit his pants.

Served him right.

“Wrong move,” Ghost sneered as he marched him out of the room.

With the show over, the noise level picked back up and I found myself unsure of what to do. Most likely afraid Ghost would come back for them, all of Bradley’s cronies had scattered, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the room.

What I wouldn’t give to just go home. It was supposed to be my day off and my feet were protesting my choice to stuff them into the heels that had been tormenting them all week. I eyed the plush leather chair that Bradley had vacated, courtesy of Ghost, with longing. Just a few minutes off my feet wouldn’t hurt. Would it?

Instead of taking a load off like I so desperately wanted to do—I was on the clock after all— I bent down, ass to heels, and started picking up the money that had fallen to the ground in the commotion following Bradley’s faux pas. I was reaching for a twenty that was just out of my reach, going down on my knees to give myself the few extra inches I needed, when I heard someone call me by my name.

My real name.

Taken aback, I turned my head and looked up to see a pair of long legs encased in dark suit pants. My eyes traveled up those legs, past a lean torso and up to see a man with copper hair and brown eyes. His face looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t quite place why.

“Alyssa? Is that really you?” the stranger asked with a gleam in his eyes.

“Um,” I mumbled, glancing nervously at a few men nearby who seemed to be watching our exchange, unsure of the protocol when someone called me by my real name. It hadn’t been in the “how to be a good prostitute” manual.

Wanting to buy time before I answered, I started to stand. The man held his hand out to assist me and I graciously accepted his help, letting him pull me up until I was standing in front of him, less than a foot of space separating us.

“It’s me, Spencer. Spencer Davis.” He saved me from having to answer and potentially doing something wrong. I didn’t even want to know how the implacable and extremely intimidating Xavier O’Brien would react if I had done something wrong.

“Spence! It’s been so long!” I threw myself at him and he caught me in his arms, giving me a tight hug.

Now that I had a name to put with the mystery man’s face, I was easily able to put my finger on how I knew him.

Spencer had been my protector for almost a whole year when I was sixteen and we were living in the same foster home. Two other boys and the man of the house had big reputations when it came to the girls placed there. If it weren’t for Spencer taking the licks that were often meant for me and guarding my bedroom door at night, I don’t know how I would have survived. I would forever be indebted to him for his sacrifice.