Part 3Your First Love My First Payday

Tori sneered.

The rigging above the cage emitted a sharp ding sound.

Then I started to fall. Rapidly.

This is it. I’m going to die. These rich people are genuinely insane.

The expected impact didn’t happen. A massive air cushion had been rigged up at the last minute to catch the cage.

But the relief was momentary. My heart slammed back into my throat the next second.

I was in an enclosed sanctuary. And all around me were wild wolves.

The broken, flimsy cage was the only barrier I had.

The camera inside was still streaming my ordeal to the other location.

The pack was tearing at my party dress. I managed to avoid one, only to find another closing in. They surrounded me, drool dripping from their jaws. My heart plummeted. All the glib banter was gone. These animals looked genuinely starved.

They worked the gaps in the cage, making them wider and wider.

I heard Tori’s laughter in the speaker, right next to my ear. “Aren’t you going to save your little beauty, Damon?”

A massive wolf finally squeezed through a large gap and lunged straight at me. I threw a desperate, pleading look at the screen. But Damon Blackwood just watched my terror, calmly taking a sip of his tea.

The wolf clamped down on my leg. More and more injuries appeared on my body. The stitches in my abdomen, the ones from the shooting, finally gave way, and the pale gown was soaked in fresh red blood.

My consciousness faded in and out. I still don't know how I was ultimately rescued. I only vaguely heard Damon talking to one of his subordinates.

“Does she really care for me that much? She’s been through all this and still won’t leave?”

The subordinate’s voice was shaky. “It... it appears so, sir. Ms. Vaughn seems genuinely devoted to you.”

Damon laughed.

“No. She only loves money.”

...

I had modern medical science to thank. When I woke up again, half my injuries were already healing.

But I didn't get more than a few days of rest before Damon summoned me again.

Another partner’s birthday gala. Another compulsory appearance as his arm candy. Rich people always have too many parties. It was exhausting.

The room was lit by warm chandeliers, a sea of clinking glasses and chatter. It was a scene I’d witnessed countless times during my three years with Damon.

I was leaning down to grab a dessert when Tori’s voice, sharp and sudden, cut in.

“I heard Ms. Vaughn used to work in a nightclub. Why doesn’t she perform a dance for us?”

Before I could reply, Damon spoke.

“She doesn’t dance.”

Right. I don’t dance. My primary skill was mixology. For a moment, I actually felt a flicker of gratitude toward him.

Tori pressed her lips into a thin line and stared intently at Damon.

“To save you years ago, I was forced to drink until I was incoherent, humiliated by those men. And now you won’t even let her dance for me?”

Damon fell silent.

He tightened his grip on his wine glass, then turned to me and only said two words.

“Go dance.”

“But my wounds haven’t healed... I’m still in pain,” I pleaded.

He didn’t say anything, but his eyes conveyed a cold, non-negotiable command.

I had no choice but to change into the revealing costume and take my place among the professional dancers. Countless sticky, judgmental eyes stabbed at me from the crowd. The whispers were crude and cutting.

“Jeez, Blackwood was hiding this little firecracker?”

“When can I borrow her for a night?”

My body was covered in bruises and raw sutures; to them, it probably had some perverse, abusive kind of beauty. I felt like a slab of meat on a cutting board. Like the cheapest commodity. In three years as a cage pet, this was the most profoundly humiliating moment I had endured.

In a flash of blinding light and noise, a gunshot rang out. Screams erupted, and the crowd scattered. Someone was attempting a hit in the middle of the party!

I instinctively tried to flee, to save myself.

But someone shoved me hard from behind. I stumbled, falling directly toward Damon Blackwood.

Pfff. A dull thud.

I knew that sound intimately. It was a bullet ripping into flesh.

It hurt. Badly.

Shot in the chest. My ribs were probably shattered.

As I lost consciousness, Damon caught me in his arms. His brow was furrowed. His voice, for the first time, held a disbelieving tremor.

“You... you love me that much?”

I tried to open my mouth to deny it, but my body failed me, and I passed out.