Page 40 of Arran's Obsession

I hurried on. “I’m sure he won’t mind you telling me.”

Her perfect, arched eyebrows shot up. “Thought ye were a prisoner? Doesn’t sound like he’s ready to trust ye.”

I sighed, losing the will to fight for this. I didn’t care if he was looking for that child. They were undoubtedly better off without him. “Whatever. I’m not his girlfriend. I don’t trust him either.”

“Why not? He’s the best.”

I stared at her. “He runs a strip club and a brothel. He earns his money by hurting women.”

Cassie’s cheeks reddened. “How can you say that? Do you even know him at all?”

“Not really, and neither do his friends by the sounds of it.” I wasn’t going to lie to protect him.

“Wrong. We know everything about what he does and why. We’ve even helped. All the shite you’re assuming is wrong,” she retorted.

My blood heated. “Is it? How? Arran runs women. He deals them out by the hour and lives off the profits of them opening their legs for any paying customer. It’s not him on his back doing the work. He’s exploiting vulnerable humans for money. In my world, that makes him a pimp. Not even in a good suit.”

Down the hall, a door opened, and the woman who’d been on the steps last night popped her head out. “Thought I heard voices. Are you coming in?”

Cassie held up a pausing finger to her then turned back, those pretty features twisted in hurt. “In my world, it makes him their protector, and ye have no idea how important he is.” She took a step, pint-sized but menacing. “You’re wrong that he owns them. They own themselves. You’re wrong that he lives off their income. Any cut he takes is only to pay for the warehouse where they work in safety. It also pays for housing, therapy, outreach, and the bribe he pays the police. And that judgement you’re laying at the women’s doors can fuck right off, too. My mother was a sex worker. Same for my brothers’. How’s the view from that high horse now?”

I breathed through my nose, unwilling to believe her but at the same time seeing no reason for her to lie.

“Yeah, right. He’s so noble. You’re delusional,” I finished. But it was weak.

“And you’re not good enough for him, so I’m glad you’re not dating. I’ll have Summer take ye back to your room.” Cassie shot me one final look of disgust then strode away, her heels stabbing the floor in hard clicks.

Good enough for him? I didn’t even want him. And he definitely didn’t want me. Except for the fact of the chemistry between us, I could almost have believed myself.

Chapter 14

Arran

On the other end of the line, Shade gave me a rundown of the shitshow I’d left behind at the warehouse. The fallout of what Genevieve had done.

“Sixteen of the men didn’t get a fair chance at the fifth woman, and so far, half have complained and are demanding to talk to you. My guess is that number will rise as the news filters out that you were in there. Want me to talk to them all?”

“No. I’ll tackle it.”

“It’s cool if ye just want to disappear for a week. Convict’s dying to help out more.”

Convict, my third-in-command, was a problem. He’d been a friend since we’d met in a fight club many years ago, but he had the bad habit of getting caught by the police for easy-to-avoid shit and landing a prison sentence every year or two. He’d recently been freed again and had come straight to me, fighting to prove himself useful. He was relentless when given a goal. He didn’t feel pain either so had never lost a fight. That was my reason for keeping him close: He scared the fuck out of others, and I didn’t want him as my enemy.

I liked him, too. Recognised the unsettled nature of his soul.

Yet he’d disobeyed a direct order the minute he was sure Shade and I were out of the warehouse. He’d called Shade with news that could’ve been sent as a text. A calculation I’d dwelt on. Inside the basement, my bloodlust had blinded me to the identity of who I was laying my fists into, at least by the tattoo that had come uncovered, but somehow, I believed Genevieve as much as I trusted him.

I considered my words. “Convict is an issue. He needs to be found a task.”

“Is that code for offing him?” Shade deadpanned.

I could’ve laughed, but all humour had left me. “No. Just kept away from the warehouse for a week or two.”

“Consider it done.” Shade scraped something metallic. A knife, knowing him. “By the way, Alisha is majorly pissed off with ye.”

I entered the front door of the mansion, leaving the cool night behind. I’d gone out for air but needed a run. Anything to take the edge off the constant yearning I had for Genevieve.

He continued. “She told the girls that your arse was hers. Then ye went and pulled that stunt. Ye basically cheated on her then married yourself off in one go.”