Chapter 7 For Her

• Dante’s POV
• I need to do something special for her. Something that will make her smile again, something that will remind her that someone out there actually cares. This small apartment feels suffocating as I pace around, each step echoing the tension that’s been growing inside me since last night. Every corner of this place has traces of her—her scent, her touch, her presence. But what I can’t shake from my mind is the look she gave him this morning, the same frustrated expression she wore last night but somehow deeper, more painful. It’s like it carved itself into my memory.
• It wasn’t just about Justin, though. Yeah, he didn’t leave like he usually does after their nights together, and that definitely added to her frustration. It messed with her routine. Normally, she’d get some time to herself, time to unwind, to just be without him looming over her. But today? No. Today, she was stuck with him. She never got that time to escape, to play alone, to just breathe.
• I get it. I really do. But still, she deserves more than that. She deserves something to make her smile, to erase that frustration. And I know exactly what will do the trick.
• Standing here, in her space, I feel a wave of calm settle over me. I look around and spot the wine bottle on the counter. Of course, she’s planning to drink tonight. I guess it’s her way of coping. But tonight, it’s going to be different. She won’t even need to worry about whatever’s bothering her. I’ve got it all figured out. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the small sachet, the one I’ve been saving for just the right moment. It’s harmless, really, just enough to help her sleep deeply. She needs the rest, after all.
• I twist the cap off the bottle, pour the powder in, and give it a gentle swirl, watching the liquid ripple like the calm before a storm. Tonight, she’ll sleep peacefully, and while she’s dreaming, I’ll be right here. Watching over her, just like I always do, this time, in bed with her. But before that, I’ve got something else in mind. Something special.
• Leaving the apartment, I make my way to the car and settle in. I pull out my phone, scrolling through ads, looking for that perfect gift. My fingers freeze when I see it—a puppy. A tiny, fluffy ball of fur that’s just waiting for a home. It’s perfect. She needs something to care for, something to love. And the best part? It’s not just for her. It’s for us. Something to connect us even more.
• I spend the day getting everything ready. The box, the puppy, making sure there are enough holes so it can breathe comfortably. It's tag as well. I can already imagine her face when she opens the box. She’ll be surprised, maybe even a little scared at first, but then—then she’ll be happy. She’ll smile that smile I love so much, the one that lights up her whole face, making her eyes sparkle.
• Parking far enough away so she won’t see me, I stand outside her apartment with the puppy in my arms. I whisper to it, “Little bear, you’re going to keep watch on her while I’m not around. Make sure she’s safe, okay?” The puppy squirms a bit, licking my hand, and I can’t help but chuckle. This is going to be perfect.
• My heart races as I spot her car coming around the corner. I quickly place the puppy in the box, fasten the bow and set it gently on her doorstep. Then I slip into the shadows, hiding behind the trees, my eyes glued to the front door.
• She steps out of her car, and I watch as she approaches the box, her movements hesitant. There’s a flicker of fear in her eyes as she bends down to lift it. She carries it in and I move quickly to the window. I watch her and she stares at the box in fear as she opens it, but the second she sees what’s inside, everything changes. Her face transforms—fear melts into joy, pure, unfiltered happiness. And in that moment, I know. I know I did the right thing. That smile, that joy, it’s because of me. Not Justin, not anyone else—me.
• I watch her for a few more minutes, soaking in the sight of her holding the puppy, laughing as it licks her face. Then, with a satisfied smile, I turn and head back to my car. I’ll be back later tonight, once she’s asleep, and Justin has left. I’ll make sure everything’s just the way it should be.
• The drive is calm, almost meditative, until I pull up in front of the familiar red-brick building. The moment I step inside, the quiet is shattered by the dull throb of music pulsing through the walls. I glance around, noting the usual faces before heading to the office. It’s a quick stop before I meet with Justin.
• “Mr. Ainsley,” Sasha calls out, her walk slow and deliberate as she approaches with a sly smile. “There’s a new girl. No experience, but she’s adamant she wants in.”
• I give her a nod, not breaking my stride as I head toward the office. Callum’s already inside, waiting for me.
• “Any updates?” I ask, my tone sharp. I’ve been gone too long, and I need to know everything’s running smoothly.
• Callum grins. “No issues. The women are safe, and the new apartments are open. Those staying here can finally move into their own spaces.”
• That’s good. Really good. Just as I settle into my chair, there’s a knock at the door. Sasha steps in, with someone trailing behind her.
• “This is Emmi,” Sasha introduces, stepping aside.
• The girl walks in, and I size her up instantly. She’s small—too small—barely scraping five feet, thin as a twig. But it’s her eyes that give her away: they’re wide, full of fear and uncertainty. She’s not cut out for this.
• “I wouldn’t take another step if I were you,” I snap, my voice cutting through the room. She freezes, her body trembling slightly. Exactly what I expected.
• Her lips part, and she stammers, “I—I need a job.”
• Her words are soft, lacking any confidence. This isn’t going to end well.
• “Do you even know what kind of work this is?” I ask, leaning forward. If she knew, she wouldn’t be standing here.
• “I’m not an idiot,” she blurts out, her voice louder this time. There’s a flicker of fire in her, but it’s not nearly enough.
• “Is that so?” I stand, moving around the desk, signaling Callum to position himself behind her. “What exactly do you think you can do here? How far are you willing to go?”
• “Anything!” she shouts, her voice cracking. “I’ll strip, dance—hell, I’ll even sell myself upstairs or down in the dungeons!”
• I narrow my eyes. She shouldn’t know about upstairs, or downstairs for that matter.
• “Who told you about those?” I press, my voice low and dangerous.
• She flinches, realizing her mistake. “I... uh, a friend,” she stammers. “He—he told me about it. Jake... I don’t remember his last name.”
• “Right,” I say, unconvinced. “I suggest you walk out of here and find yourself a nice little bar job. This isn’t the place for you.”
• “No!” she shouts, her defiance catching me off guard. Even Callum chuckles at her outburst.
• She raises an eyebrow, curious, “Where in Scotland were you born?”
• My eyes narrow, and I can feel my patience thinning. Enough of this. “I don't know what world you live in, but never fucking ask me personal shit again! You say you’ll do anything? Prove it,” I demand, my tone leaving no room for negotiation.
• “What do you want? A strip tease?” she asks, trying to sound bold, but her voice wavers.
• I shake my head. I want nothing, just her to see she can't handle this. “No. I want you to fuck him.” I point to Callum, and she snaps her head toward him. He’s smirking, enjoying this far too much.
• “What? Like... now?” Her voice is barely a whisper as she realizes what I’m asking.
• “Yes. Now. Right here, right now, in front of me. If you can handle that, the job’s yours. Pick whatever position you want.” I lean in close, watching her face drain of color.
• She stands frozen, and then, predictably, she bolts for the door, running out without a second glance.
• “That’s the fourth one this week,” Callum laughs, dropping back into his seat.
• I sit down, shaking my head. “People like her come in all the time. Most of them don’t last. Either they don’t understand what they’re getting into, or they think they can handle it until they can’t.”
• “You could’ve given her a real shot,” Callum says with a grin.
• “I did,” I snap. “I’m not about to let some naïve girl walk into this world blind. The only exceptions are the ones who’d be doing this on the streets, risking their lives without any protection. Here, at least, they’re safe.”
• Callum leans against the desk, his smirk not fading. “So compassionate,” he teases.
• He doesn’t get it. No one does. They look at me like I’m some kind of monster, selling women and taking their money. But I take nothing. This place was built to protect women—to give them a safe place to do what they’re already doing. Well, to protect one woman, at least.