Six months ago
Being new in the business meant she had to have eyes in the back of her head.
There was no one to look out for a nobody like her, and it didn't help that she was overall a nerd, inexperienced, and too unbothered to learn the ways of the world. But here she was, leaning against a man she didn't know and acting like his lover.
Greyson isn't a bad guy, at least not in the way you would expect a goon to be. He treats her kindly and respects her boundaries. Doesn't try to initiate anything outside of their dates and ensures her safety at all times. It's been four months since she joined the business, and Greyson was her first client.
He booked Gloria, as Gloria was the only mask Nikolai was able to design for her while she was starting.
Gloria's serpent-like black eyes skim over the crowd, her burgundy leather vest and shorts making her stand out. She would get intimidated by the crowd of burly bikers if it weren't for the hefty check waiting for her at home.
The event is unusually decent; the bikers haven't started any brawls yet, which also makes it boring. She excuses herself to go to the restroom, her black leather boots clinking with multiple chains as she walks towards the red corridor where the restrooms are located. She's learned from experience that the less she makes eye contact with the crowd, the safer she will feel, so she keeps her eyes down, only smiling at two of Greyson's bodyguards before she enters the restroom.
She's quick as she does her business, her red-painted pinky finger smoothing out the crease in her concealer under her eyes where she knows the mask tends to peel when she hears hooting outside of the restroom before a group of drunk bikers stumbles inside.
Her eyes widen in surprise, one of the few expressions the masks allow her to keep, as she turns to look at them. "This is the female's restroom," she says calmly.
"What a sight," she feels goosebumps dote her arm as the person in the front speaks, leering at her. "It's like we left the track to enter heaven, my fellas," he hollers, making the others laugh boisterously.
Okay, time to run.
She tries to walk past them, but they block her way, effectively caging her against the sink. If she feels her heart drop in fear, she tries not to show it. "I'm here with Greyson. Don't even try," she threatens, but the bikers just laugh.
"Oh, we know who you are here with, hot cheeks. It just so happens that we aren't happy with Greyson at the moment," the statement makes her blood run cold. "And what luck that we get to rough up his pretty beauty to get back at him, huh?" Alarm bells go off in her head.
Run, run, run.
They grab hold of her arms before she can; the tall guy in the front, who seems to be the leader, sneers down at her. "Oh, no, you don't," he laughs as he touches her thigh, his calloused hand grabbing the flesh of her leg.
The touch is repulsive. She screams once before getting slapped in the face, blood pooling in her mouth from the sting. Fuck, this isn't what she signed up for.
A hand suddenly shoots out from behind and slams the leader's head with the guy holding her left arm. Her eyes widen, arms shaking as she looks at her savior, only to be met with dangerous onyx eyes staring into the depths of her soul. She almost screams again as he looks even more dangerous than the men harassing her. A full-blown fight breaks out between the three bikers and the new man in the black leather jacket.
"Get out of here, Kit," Onyx-Eyes growls in her direction, and she doesn't have to be told twice.
Skyler's knees shake as she stumbles away from the fight, pressing her back against the bathroom wall as she watches the leather jacket guy push the men off him. "What a coincidence, I was feeling like killing someone today," his voice sounds deeper than hell, and she thanks the Lord that she isn't on the receiving end of it.
She walks out into the hallway because she can't watch the leather jacket guy bashing the other men left and right anymore. Her head falls against the wall, knees weak from the adrenaline rush, as Greyson's bodyguards approach her. She can't muster a word without crying, so she only points in the direction of the restroom. The bodyguards rush inside, and she sighs shakily, closing her eyes.
Never in her life has she gone through something traumatic like that.
Before long, the leather jacket guy comes out of the restroom, and she gasps at his state. The men must have been carrying a sharp weapon, judging from the slit running from his wrist to his elbow, his jacket sleeve torn, and blood spilling from the cut. "Oh, no," she whispers, stepping towards him. "Are you okay?" A knot lodges in her throat.
Dark onyx eyes rise to meet hers, his damp fringe covering most of them, making them appear even more menacing. "Peachy," his voice is so deep it seems to vibrate through her skin. "You alright, baby girl?" The endearment catches her off guard, her eyes rising to meet his once more.
"I'm… yeah. Thank you," she mutters, her hand gripping his sleeve to take a look at the damage.
Bloodied, tattooed skin greets her as she peels up his sleeve, and she feels like throwing up and crying in gratefulness at the same time. "You're bleeding," she must sound as devastated as she feels, as the man tuts at her, smirking.
"It's just a scratch." No, it's not. It's a gash, and it's five inches long. He would probably need stitches, though she's no doctor.
She unties the silk scarf that she tied as a belt around her waist, wrapping it around the man's cut to stop the bleeding. "You need stitches."
The bodyguards push the restrained bikers out of the bathroom, and Skyler allows herself some satisfaction at the state of them, which is much worse than the damage they managed to inflict on Onyx-Eyes. They make sure Skyler is okay, nodding at Onyx-Eyes before telling her they will deal with them, and then they disappear down the corridor, leaving them alone.
"Let me take you home," the man says gently, and for the first time since the scary men appeared in the bathroom, Skyler remembers that she's an escort.
"No… Thank you, but I think you need to go to the hospital first," she tries to sound stern, but the shakiness in her voice betrays her.
Onyx eyes soften as he leans down to peer at her. "For someone so badass looking, you get spooked too easily, huh?" She has to hold her breath after the first inhale of his scent. It borders on criminal, perfectly masculine mixed with the musk of danger. "Do you have your phone on you?"
"Huh?" She frowns, wondering why he's asking.
"Your phone, baby girl, call yourself an Uber," he urges, and she finally grasps where he's going with it.
"Oh, yes," she holds up her phone like a kid before mentally facepalming herself for her behavior and hurriedly calling an Uber. "He'll be here in five minutes. You should go," she says, eyeing her bloodied scarf wrapped around his arm. He hasn't stopped bleeding even though she wrapped the scarf as tightly as she could.
"That desperate to get rid of me? You wound me, kitten." The endearments are starting to make her blush.
"Stop calling me that; I don't even know your name," She tries to find some zest.
"Mmm, you're right, how rude of me," The way he speaks, the mischievous sparkle in his eyes, is starting to make low heat simmer in her core. Alarm bells are blaring because the attraction is too evident now. "I'm Drystan. And what would they call you, Kitten?"
The tension grows thicker, sweat dotting her hairline as she leans against the wall, just to get away from him and his maddening proximity. "Gloria," She mutters, thankful she didn't tell him her name due to her attraction to him
He steps closer, and she steps back instantly, making him smirk. "Do I scare you, baby girl?" He asks.
"No," she holds his gaze as she says, and the slow smirk that stretches on his lips makes her lose her mind a little. "Why? Should I be scared?"
"Hm," he hums, resting his hand on the wall above her head before he leans in close. So close that she can count every individual eyelash dotting his eyes. "Will you cheer for me in the next race?" he asks instead.
She didn't think he would be a biker, considering his outfit, the information clicking with the closed part of her brain called reason. "I'm with Greyson," she replies.
"Are you his girl?" He asks, some of the heat leaving his eyes.
"And if I am?" She tilts her chin up, defiant.
"Then I'd have to negotiate with my friend to let you go," he tutts. The words roll over her like liquid heat, taking up the entirety of her mind.
"Why would you do that?"
He grabs the back of her head as he presses his lips against her ear. "That's the only way I would be able to fuck you mindless without my conscience eating at me," he whispers, and her panties dampen.
"Your Uber is here, baby girl."
*