Hell by J.L. Beck
1
Rowan
What am I doing here?
I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve asked myself that question. Why am I doing this? What am I doing here? How can I get out of this? It’s like my whole life has turned into one long, endless nightmare. And I can’t find a way to wake up.
Which is why I’m walking up to the back doors of Purgatory. In the daylight, the building looks like a plain, boring structure just outside the downtown area. It doesn’t stand out from the other buildings up and down the block—except for the large neon sign above the front door. Driving by, nobody would ever guess what really goes on inside these walls.
There’s not as much foot traffic around here. I guess that changes later when the main crowd arrives. Most people think this is nothing more than a dance club. Few are aware that this is an upscale sex club… one I sent my best friend, Eve, to just a few months ago. Her visit ended with a happily ever after, but I already know mine won’t.
“You came,” Alexei says. He’s my connection, the guy who only wanted to help me out of a bad spot the night he found me weeping outside the diner where I used to work. Mr. Good Guy, Mr. Helpful, Mr. Let me see what I can do to get you out of this jam.
I’m not a stupid person, and I’ve learned a lot in my twenty years.
The thing is, when you’ve just lost your job and have no idea how you’re going to pay the rent you’re already two months late on, you might forget everything you thought you knew. That’s another lesson I’ve learned the hard way.
“I didn’t think I had much of a choice.” It takes all of my courage to stand upright, shoulders back, chin held high. This might be the most humiliating experience of my life, but I don’t have to cower and tremble.
Alexei’s beady, deep-set eyes crawl over my body. He must like what he sees because one corner of his mouth quirks upward in a smile that gives away everything on his filthy mind. “You don’t have a choice. I’m just glad you didn’t make me chase you down or anything like that.”
That makes two of us. I resist the impulse to cover my cleavage with my hands when his eyes land there and stay there. My mouth is suddenly so dry. I nod toward the windowless door. “Well? Are we going in?”
He draws his bottom lip under his teeth for just a second before my question sinks in. “Oh, yeah. He’ll be waiting for you.”
I’ve never been so scared in my life. And that’s saying something.
Alexei opens the door and stands to the side, gesturing for me to go in. One glance tells me nothing about what’s in there since everything is so dark. I have half a mind to ask for a flashlight, especially in these ridiculous heels I’m wearing. It would just be my luck to end up spraining my ankle or worse. But that was what I was instructed to wear: something short, tight, low-cut. Platform heels, preferably strappy so my feet would be visible.
Because, of course, before I can pay off my debt, the boss has to give the final word on whether or not I’m worthy. Whether he thinks I’ll earn for him.
I’m clearly not moving fast enough because Alexei practically shoves me into what looks like a high-end lounge with leather couches and chairs, and a bar that stretches across one wall. The lighting is low and tasteful, except for the cages.
Yes. Girls are dancing in cages. I quickly count eight of them as Alexei ushers me through the bar, spotlights shining on them as they bump and grind in various states of undress to entertain guests who are mingling with their drinks.
There’s no time for me to take it all in before he hurries me into a narrow stairwell. “Up.”
One night. This is just for one night.That’s what I tell myself with every step I climb. This is the only time I ever have to come here. And once the night is over, I’ll be free.
It’s surprisingly quiet for a sex club. I expected to at least hear some moaning, maybe a few squeals. It was like this the first time I was here as well. The walls must be soundproofed.
Alexei takes the lead once we reach the landing, guiding me down a narrow hall to a door at the end. After three sharp knocks, the door opens slowly by itself.
The room on the other side is not what I expected, but then, none of this has been. It’s well lit, sleek, and almost welcoming. At least, until I set eyes on the man sitting behind the desk directly opposite the door, his finger pressed against a button mounted in front of him.
Icy-blue eyes. They almost jump out at me from under dark, heavy brows. He leans back in his chair, fingers tented under his chin, and there’s a glass of what looks like whiskey next to the button he used to open the door. Nobody has to tell me he’s the boss. Everything about him screams mastery, control.
He nods once, and Alexei takes this as a sign to get me in the room and close the door. He pushes me forward, and I hear the definitive click of the door being shut, leaving me alone with the man who I know is named Lucian, the owner of Purgatory.
That’s all I know about him, though, and the fact I owe him ten grand. Although I do know he has a lot of other shady, underground businesses only hinted at online.
What a shame I didn’t have the time to look further into his businesses before I agreed to let Alexei lend me the money I needed. Money I couldn’t possibly pay back.
Lucian’s eyes roam over me the way Alexei’s did, but there’s a different sort of look in them. Alexei was imagining what he would do to me. Lucian looks at me like I’m a prize cow or something, like he’s assessing me for sale. “Turn. Let me see the back.”
So much for an introduction. There’s nothing in his deep but cold voice that gives me any sense of comfort as I turn halfway so he can get a look at my ass. All I can do is stare at the wall and will my knees to stop shaking.
“You’ll do. Turn.” I do as I’m told, glad I passed muster yet at the same time afraid of what that means. I can’t imagine what I’ll have to do to satisfy my debt, but ten grand is a lot of money, and something tells me he’s going to make me work for it.
He picks up his glass, swirling the liquor around, studying me. “Your name is Rowan, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re twenty years old?” I nod my head as he lifts the tumbler to his lips, watching me the entire time he does it. I’m afraid that if I don’t watch him with the same intensity, he may take me as weak. “You don’t say much, do you?”
“I don’t know what to say.”
This seems to please him. He lowers the tumbler, nodding. “That’s good. I can’t stand people who ask too many questions. Do you know anything about this club?
“I know enough.” Thanks to my ex, who brought me here for a threesome, and to my best friend, Eve, who had a pleasant encounter here with her stepbrother. “I’ve been upstairs before,” I admit, “and so have my friends. But I don’t know much about what’s going on downstairs.”
“We keep it that way for a reason.” He folds his hands over his flat stomach, and I catch sight of a flashy watch peeking out from under his shirt cuff. I could probably pawn that watch and pay off my debt with money to spare. “Welcome to Purgatory. This is an exclusive club. We’re very careful with our clientele. The fact that you’re considered worthy of working here for the night speaks highly of you.”
Am I supposed to be flattered? I’m not sure, though a part of me is glad I met with his approval.
“We are discreet, of course,” he continues. “Nothing that goes on within these walls goes beyond these walls. You understand that?”
“I do.”
“Good.” He suddenly stands, crossing the room with long, slow strides and stopping in front of a bar cart loaded with bottles, tumblers, and an ice bucket. Since he already has a drink of his own, I guess this one’s for me.
“You’re on the second floor currently, and this is the level we refer to as Heaven. There are rooms set up throughout the floor where clients can engage in whatever kink they enjoy. We have strict rules when it comes to consent and a zero-tolerance policy for guests—men or women—who can’t take no for an answer.”
He turns his head slightly, catching me out of the corner of his eye. “Tonight, you’ll be working in Hell. That’s what we call the basement level. The main level, where you walked in, is more of a social area. That’s where our guests relax and enjoy a few drinks before going either upstairs or down.”
I’m afraid to ask but do so anyway. “And what happens in Hell?”
He stops, holding an ice cube in a pair of tongs, the ice hovering over the glass for one little moment before he drops it with a clink. “Hell is reserved for our most formidable guests.”
That’s not exactly an answer, though something tells me I shouldn’t press him for more information. He did say he doesn’t like it when people ask questions, right?
“You’re not thinking about backing out now, are you?” He turns to me, and I can’t help but notice his trim body—tall, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped. He’s wearing a white dress shirt, partly unbuttoned, tucked into dark gray slacks that stretch over his thick thighs. For half a fraction of a second, I wonder what he looks like beneath his clothes. Are his abs chiseled? “You do remember you signed a contract?”
Yes, and Alexei didn’t give me a lot of time to look it over before forcing my signature. It was bad enough he’d barged into my apartment before I could even open the door all the way. I wasn’t about to say no. “I’m not backing out. Just curious.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle. Besides, how else would you be able to pay off such a huge debt in one night?” He laughs, lifting an eyebrow. “Unless you’d rather pay it off in one of my other establishments. We aren’t as… discerning when it comes to the clientele, but plenty of girls are there who can show you the ropes.”
He’s talking about a brothel or something like that. So either I can slowly work off my debt and basically be an indentured servant, or I can get it all over with in one night.
What’s the worst that could go on down there, anyway? They couldn’t let guys torture girls, could they? Cause serious harm, the sort of stuff that means a trip to the hospital or a lawsuit? Think about the liability this seemingly professional guy would bring down on himself if he let that happen.
Besides, I would’ve heard more than whispered rumors about the club if things got really bad around here. That’s not the sort of thing you can get people to shut up about. If a girl got seriously hurt, she’d tell somebody, right? Doubt spurts in my gut, but I squash it before it can develop further. I have to do this. I have no other option.
I realize he’s waiting for me to answer, watching me, standing perfectly still. I’d better say something. “No, this is fine.”
“I thought so.” He picks up the fresh drink, but instead of handing it to me, he sets it on the edge of his desk. Perching on one corner, he folds his arms, looking me up and down again. His face is perfect, to the point where I wonder if he was born with it. He’s obviously got the money for it.
But no. The more I look at it, the easier it is to spot the tiny imperfections. A slight tilt to the otherwise straight nose. A faint scar on his square jaw, barely covered by black scruff. Tiny lines at the corners of his eyes. How old is he? Early forties, maybe, though it doesn’t show as much on his face as it does in his entire manner. The way he talks, the commanding energy rolling off him.
If there’s one thing I learned to pick up on, it’s energy. Reading a man, so I’ll know whether his silence is just the calm before the storm.
“As per the terms of your contract, you understand that we don’t use safe words in Hell. Once you go down there, there’s no leaving until the guest is satisfied. Remember that. The satisfaction of my guests is always the highest priority. Tell me you understand that.”
“I do. I understand.” Still, I can’t help myself. “So there’s no way to get them to stop?”
His face is blank. “No. Those are the terms. And you did sign a contract, agreeing to those terms.”
Yes, I did, because that’s my fucking life now. Jumping out a window to escape a burning building, only the street below is also on fire. I can’t catch a break.
He tips his head to the side. “It’s a funny thing. I can’t find much about you online—and yes, before you ask, I make it my business to know who works here, even if it’s only for a single night. When I searched for your name online, I barely came up with anything. Do you know how unusual it is for someone your age not to even have social media?”
A cold finger traced an icy path down my spine. “I’m a pretty private person.”
“No, I’m a private person. You strike me as someone who’s hiding something. Twenty years old and not so much as a Facebook account. That’s very unusual. It looks like you’ve only lived in your apartment a handful of months, but that’s the most I could find. And I am very thorough.”
What am I supposed to do? Tell him the whole story? Maybe he’ll feel sorry for me. I almost snort, doubtful. No, I don’t want anybody feeling sorry for me. I was stupid enough to fall for that bastard, stupid enough to believe him every time he said it would never happen again, stupid enough to cover the bruises so nobody would think badly about him.
Getting away, moving to the other side of town, and cutting all ties with Eric was the best decision I ever made. Still, it drained me physically, emotionally, and financially—especially financially. Before I was strong enough to leave him, he drained my bank account and maxed out my credit cards. I was already behind in rent, which meant the only way I could get a new place was with a huge deposit.
“The truth?” He nods. “There’s somebody I would rather not see again. Ever.”
For one second, I’m afraid he’s going to ask for details. He strikes me as the kind of guy who would get off on making a girl relive the memories she would give anything to forget. So long as he could be in control.
Which is why it surprises me when he only nods again. “As long as you’re not some undercover vice cop, we’re okay.”
“Oh, god, no. No, it’s not like that. Believe me.” I can’t help but laugh, which doesn’t seem like the right reaction, but it’s all I can do. Me, a cop? “I mean, if I was, wouldn’t they set me up with a whole online persona to make me look legit?”
He cracks a tiny smile, and I can only think how handsome he’d be if he smiled more instead of looking so serious and stern all the time. “I believe you. And I think you’re going to make me a lot of money tonight.”
At least one of us is happy about that.
