“Cold,” she said shortly. Obediently, the temperature of the water changed. She splashed her face with it, leaned against the counter and sighed. She needed to let Manya know something was up with this guy. But would Manya be able to do anything about him? He wasn’t the kind of man to be dismissed lightly. If they just left him alone until he left, that might be safer for everyone. Only fools provoke predators, she reminded herself. Lay low and you’ll be fine.
She stood there for a moment longer, then took a deep breath and opened the door.
He stood in the hallway opposite her. Waiting.
“I have to get back to work,” she said, trying to duck past him. He stepped forward, blocking her. She looked around nervously, hoping someone would see them, come to her rescue. There was no one.
“We’re going to talk,” he said shortly. He stepped forward again, backing her up against the door. She fumbled at the handle, damning whatever idiot had decided to install it so the door opened outward. Otherwise she might have just been able to duck back inside. Not that a door would stop him. She would just have to brazen him out.
“What can I do for you?” she asked brightly, trying to sound confident. Up close he was huge, much bigger than she’d realized before. Her head came to the middle of his chest. She could smell him. Male. A hint of something else, maybe the leather?
Something inside her uncurled and she felt a tingle between her legs. She was actually attracted to the man, she realized in disgust, despite the blaster. How had that happened?
“How much?” he asked shortly, breaking through her mental dialogue.
“What?”
“How much?” he asked, reaching one hand to her chin, tilting it up so that she looked into his face. His features were grim, strained. The gash of his scar twisted the skin along his left cheek, a dark-red tangle of rigid flesh.
“For what?” she asked, confused. “Look, I won’t tell anyone about the blaster.”
“You.”
She burst out in nervous laughter—this was just too surreal. Instantly his face grew colder, and she fell silent. She had provoked him far too much already.
“I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong impression,” she said carefully, searching his face. “I’m a waitress, not a whore. I’m not for sale.”
“Really?” he asked, his mouth twisting. “That’s not what I saw.”
“Just because I flirt with a customer doesn’t mean that I’m selling myself,” she said softly, eyes darting down the corridor. Where the hell was everyone? “I’m allowed to flirt. I like flirting.”
“You carry yourself like a whore,” he said grimly. He reached between them, slipping his fingers into her cleavage and pulling the credit chit out. “I saw them giving you money. Do you think you’re too good for me? You’re not.”
She stiffened, feeling fury build up within her, overwhelming the fear that had been there seconds before.
“You have no right to speak to me like this.”
He smiled, the movement twisting the scar until he looked like a monster.
“I’ll pay extra,” he said smoothly, stepping closer. He angled his head in toward hers. “I’ve had to do it before. You can even keep your eyes closed so you don’t have to see me. Just tell me the price.”
She shook her head, unsure what to say. He was dangerous and he was armed.
Anything might set him off.
“It has nothing to do with how you look,” she said finally. “I’m simply not in the market. Go to a pleasure house, they’ll take care of you there.”
“I want you.”
He caught her hand in his. She tried to pull away from him, but he was so much stronger she might have been an insect for all the good it did her. He pulled the hand down between them and pressed against his groin.
His cock pushed against his breeches, hard and ready. Reflexively she squeezed her fingers, and he gasped. He leaned forward against her, crushing her to the wall. She squeezed again and he moaned.
Panicked, she writhed against him, trying to escape.
“Don’t move,” he said between gritted teeth. “Not unless you want me to fuck you right here.”
Giselle froze.
After a moment he eased back, still holding her hand to his hard length. She could feel the heat of his arousal coming off in waves. To her disgust, she was responding.
Her legs tingled and she held back a shiver.
“How much?” he asked again, his voice hoarse.
“I’m not for sale,” she whispered. “You have to believe that.”
“Everyone is for sale,” he said. “It’s just a matter of finding the right price.”
His eyes held hers for a moment; she was transfixed. Then he eased back from her, releasing her hand. She drew it back, wiping it against her apron reflexively. He propped one arm up against the wall, imprisoning her just as effectively as before.
“I’m staying at the Pleasance Hostel with Vetch,” he said slowly. “He’s going off-station tonight, but I’ll be here another two cycles at least.” He lifted one hand between them and reached into her cleavage, slowly sliding his fingers back down between her breasts. His fingers caressed the gentle slopes. Why had she worn such a low-cut, tight blouse? Why had she pulled it down so far? His gaze burned through her with an intensity beyond bearing. She closed her own eyes, denying him that window into her soul.
She felt him lean forward, and he whispered in her ear.
“Take this,” he said, his warm breath sending shivers through her. She felt his fingers brush something scratchy against her soft skin. He’d put something in there, where the credit chit had been. “And think about your price. I’m prepared to pay it.”
She remained still, frozen with eyes closed for another moment. She felt the heat of him pull away, heard him walk slowly down the hall. She counted to thirty, took a deep breath and opened her eyes again.
It was as if nothing had happened. She could hear the distant sounds of the bar, hear people laughing. She walked slowly back into the open, eyes immediately turning toward the table where he and Vetch had sat. It was empty.
“Giselle!” Manya called from his spot behind the bar. She turned to him, and her boss looked over at her, frowning. “Where have you been? You got customers waiting.”
She turned toward him, forced herself to smile.
“Sorry, I was in the fresher.”
“You move faster next time,” he said, his words harsh but his tone gentle. Then his face softened. “You all right?”
“Manya,” she said slowly. “Did you see that guy who was in here with Vetch? He had a blaster.”
The man’s broad forehead knotted into frown.
“You sure ’bout that?” he asked. “We have the sensors turned on. They were serviced less than a week ago. No way would he be able to get in here with a blaster.”
“Well, he had one,” she said. “I don’t know how he got it in, but he did.”
“You see him again, you let me know,” Manya said, frowning at her. “Now go take care of your tables. I’ll let Brant know, he’ll keep an eye out for him.”
She nodded, picking up a tray. The Debsians called out to her in a drunken chorus; she hurried toward them, pasting a bright smile on her face. Black Leather was gone—
everything would be fine now. Their bouncer, Brant, was a big man. She doubted that even the tall, scarred man would be able to get by him without a fight. Things were back to normal, and she should be thinking about her tips, not the man in the hallway.