Chapter 9
Virgin for Sale
Heâs alone, and he looks fucking pissed.
âHow are you doing this fine morning?â I ask, taking a seat opposite him and taking the lead.
He glares.
Two can play at this game. I stare right back, and neither of us backs down. I know Malcolm has a reputation, but Iâm not afraid of him.
I donât have time for this. Itâs a Saturday morning. The office needs me, and Iâve got more urgent needs than staring down this ugly fucker.
âThe girl last night. I want to know her name.â
âNot going to happen.â
Gritting my teeth, I rein in my temper. This guy is pissing me off now.
Thereâs no way Iâm told no.
Itâs a word I donât hear or believe in, simple as that.
âCome on, seriously, youâre going to try and convince me that these women donât want to know about their date?â It sounds like utter BS to me.
âIâm telling you all of them know the rules. Itâs why they come here and why I do business with them.â
âOh, please, youâre a glorified pimp. Selling virgins for them. Making money.â
Malcolm stares at me. âI thought my setup was beneath you. You once told me I was a piece of shit for even considering this business. I always figured you were an uptight asshole until last night. What was it about this woman?â
âScrew you.â
Malcolm smiles, only it doesnât reach his eyes. âYou know, the moment she entered my office, I thought about you. Sheâs got that lost little doe look. Innocent as they come, but thereâs that spark, isnât there?
That little hint of darkness that draws a man in.â
âTell me about her and her name and weâll call it even.â
âIf you hadnât paid off the guard outside her door, I may have considered it. Youâre in my club. I offer these women protection, and against my orders, you removed hers. For that reason, I wonât be telling you a single fucking thing about her.â
âHow much will it cost me?â I ask.
âNothing, because youâre not getting her information. You got one night without supervision. Consider it a parting gift.â
âYouâre fucking serious right now?â
âAs the fucking dead,â Malcolm says. âI donât get it though. Why didnât you want the guard? I know you.
Youâre not a prude.â
I shrug. âI didnât want the guy in on my business. Sue me. You really want me to believe this is a respectable business?â
Malcolm chuckles. âYou think itâs not?â
âYou sell girls. Itâs no better than a brothel.â
The man opposite me sits back. Heâs staring at me as if Iâve lost my mind, and maybe I have. I canât exactly think straight right now. Being told no is new for me. Iâm used to getting what I want.
âYou know, this was a new venture for me a few years ago. It was something I stumbled upon because a friend of mine has a sister. You donât need to know all the details, but the sisterâs friend needed money. She didnât come from wealth, and the only thing she felt she had to bargain with was her virginity. To cut a long story short, she put it on the internet, got a good price for it, and went through with the entire ordeal.â
This isnât going to end well.
âShe never lived past that night,â Malcolm says. âThey found her body three days later. My friendâs sister knew what was happening, and she panicked. When they found her body, the man who bought her had indeed stripped her of her virginity, but heâd also tortured and killed her. The money was never even transferred to her bank account. So, I checked out the site she used, everything. There were a lot of young women selling their virginity for money. You may think Iâm a pimp, and thatâs okay. In essence, this is a brothel. The girls come to me, I take care of them, protect them, and at the end of the day, they go home, safe. I guaran-fucking-tee it. Iâve got nothing to prove to you. My conscience is very fucking clear. I save these women. I donât take a huge chunk of their money. They get most of it. I take enough to keep this place running, to pay for the men, and to make a tiny profit for my trouble. If you think for even a second this is always easy for me, itâs not. Some of these women, theyâre barely legal. Theyâve had a shit upbringing and want to make a change. To some, Iâve seen the looks in their eyes when they think the only thing theyâre good for is a fuck. So, donât even think about lecturing me on what you believe to be right or wrong.â
Malcolm keeps up his glare as he finishes.
âSo, youâre not going to give me the information I want on that girl?â
âNo.â
âSon of a bitch! Iâm not going to hurt her.â