Page 5 of Gambler's Conceit

Goosebumps rise on my arms, and they have nothing to do with Caleb and everything to do with my growing fear of being trapped.

“That’s cute,” Caleb says.

Cute. Far from it. But I smile brightly at him anyway. Let him think I’m cute. Let him think I’m helpless. It’ll make the rest of this easy… or at least,easier.

“All right, shower first.” He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around, leading me toward what I assume is the primary suite. “Vortex, order food from downstairs, and you can stick around for the show if you want.”

I sneak a glance at Vortex, who freezes for a second. Maybe he’s having misgivings. Maybe he’ll be an unexpected ally.

But he shakes that off, saying, “Sure, I’ll order food. But I’ll pass on the show. You have fun railing that twink.”

He’s apparently not as much of avoyeuras Caleb. It’s a relief, and some of the tension leaves my body. I can deal with putting on a show for one. It’s when others are added to the equation that things get nasty.

Caleb continues to herd me along until even the sounds of Nacho’s meowing and Miss K’s hissing have faded into the background.

“You have a nice place,” I say.

“The benefits of owning a casino.” Caleb takes me to the large en-suite bathroom. “There are shampoos and lotions in the shower. I would also recommend cleaning yourselfverythoroughly. There are kits in the lowest drawer by the sink.”

Great.

I look around, taking in the luxuries I’ll get to take advantage of. They’re all old news, though, stuff I’ve seen a billion times before. Even at home, I?—

I slam the door on those thoughts, instead nodding to Caleb. “Sure.” I start to shed my clothes, not bothering for a striptease with these filthy, ill-fitting clothes as I head for the sink. I may as well clean myself out before the shower.

The next time I look up, Caleb is gone, and I breathe out a sigh of relief as I drop the flirtatious, eager persona I save for situations just like these. I can let the tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I wallow in my disappointment and near-despair. The precious few months of freedom mean nothing now. I’d been so close to getting out of this kind of life, only to end up plunged into it all over again.

Only my miserable thoughts keep me company as I clean myself inside and out, taking my time. Caleb hadn’t mentionedme hurrying, and while the idea of food has me wanting to speed through this a little, I’m not ready to see what he has planned for me.

When I finish drying off, I steel myself for what’s coming next.

I may not want to put on a performance again, but at least Caleb isn’t unattractive. He could be ugly and smell of body odor. I could be in a ratty apartment with someone holding my cat’s well-being over me.

It could be much, much worse.

So I paint a smile back on my lips, pulling a too-big bathrobe around my body as I return to the bedroom.

Caleb is sitting on the armchair next to the bed. Vortex is nowhere to be seen.

That’s a relief, though not much of one.

I saunter up to him and get to my knees, peering up at Caleb as I murmur with a seductive smile, “Hello, handsome. Finally alone, I see.”

“Indeed.” Caleb runs a hand through my damp, shoulder-length black hair. It’s starting to curl a little already, but I didn’t have time to dry and style it. “Very pretty.” He lets go of me and motions for me to stand up. “Robe off. Show me everything.”

I hesitate.

I’d avoided looking at myself in the bathroom mirror because I’d already known what was there. Depending on who’s commenting, I’m too bony or too fat; I’m not bruised enough or I’m bruised too much. The scarring is unflattering, or a sign of my disobedience, or a whole multitude of things I can’t even begin to understand.

What is Caleb going to think of all of it?

I smile brightly at him and unknot the belt on the pristine white robe, teasing a little before pulling it free. The robe slidesdown my shoulders, down to my waist, then puddles to the floor around my ankles as I stand naked before him.

“Do you like what you see?” I ask, more out of force of habit than any real need to know what Caleb Spade is actually thinking.

Caleb reaches out to touch my sides. One of his fingers traces a long scar that runs from my rib cage down to my belly.

My breath catches in my throat.