CHAPTER TWELVE
Nyx's POV.
The deal I struck with the weird guy from the alley–whose name's Timothy, was simple.
Get into the circle of the rich, gather as much information about their shady dealings and report back to Timothy.
The details he gave me about the rich men in the city makes me realize that the rich in New York are no different from the rich in Vegas.
The men in New York just mask their shady business with thriving companies while Vegas men do the opposite. And helping Timothy gather information about them was to help curb the effects of their underground business–according to him.
I slip out a small card from my purse, staring at the passport photo attached to the card.
"Lucky Ninicoo," I mutter under my breath, studying his features one last time before heading into the club.
I slip the card into the purse, adjusting the fitting of my sequined purple bodycon dress, pushing my boobs out a little more.
The area is bubbling but not in the wild party kind of way, it's chaotic in its own subtle way. The club is divided into sections, and there's a section for games, one for strippers and another for drinks.
The splashing of liquid into glass, the clicking heels of women walking past me, the sound of balls falling into holes and the sound of instrumentals echoes through the room.
Not a single person here is dressed like a rookie. I almost think I am at the wrong place until my eyes find a bald headed man with a heavy mustache on top of his lips, clad in a white suit.
I catwalk over, swaying my hair and looking at everyone except the man I'm supposed to be with. He's sitting outside the sections of the room, somewhere that looks like it's reserved for VIPs.
I take a seat on the stool close to his lounge, going through my phone and actively looking around like I'm expecting someone.
From the corner of my eyes, I notice him alternating his gaze between me and the men sitting with him in the lounge.
Great.
It's working.
I soon leave my seat, heading to the bar section that's flickering with white and pink lights. "White wine," I say, and the bartender nods.
I notice how some of the men try to ogle me without making it obvious and it takes a lot of self control to not tease them.
They're not the target.
I take my glass from the bartender, returning to my seat while making sure my steps said the things that my lips can't at the moment. I'm almost close to the stool when a hefty looking guy clad in all black stops at my table.
"My boss would like to speak with you," he states, and I throw him a confused expression, tilting my head behind him like I'm looking for the person.
He steps to the side, pointing towards Lucky.
I grin, walking over.
Lucky smirks as I reach the lounge and now standing this close to them, the men sitting around Lucky look scary and rough with scars on different parts of their face. One of them has even lost an eye.
"Hey sexy, come take a seat beside Daddy," He croons, making my insides twist with disgust almost immediately.
I'd thought he'll sound elderly but in a sexy way, but he sounds like he's got heaps of granite at the end of his throat, making his voice come off as rough.
However, I smile, taking a seat beside him as he says and he flashes me his teeth, and they're the most disgusting set of yellow teeth I've ever seen on a so-called wealthy man.
Where's all that money going if he can't take care of his oral hygiene?
The men sitting around him drink their wine, flashing me irritating looks like I interrupted something but I don't care.
Lucky snags a hand around me, pulling me closer to him and I arch into him easily, placing my hand on his chest.
"You know? Women who've been with me always tell me that they're lucky to have me. I'm sure it'll be the same with you," He whispers in my ears.
"The only thing lucky about you is your money, Bozo. That's why they said so," I mentally mock him, blushing like an idiot.
"That depends on what you have to offer," I mutter softly, winking at him.
He grins, "They don't call me the driller for nothing."
I snort, his grin disappears and then I quickly force a smile.
The driller? Really?
Christ.
I might actually break out of character to laugh my ass out if he utters one more word.
"Are you shy?" He asks, narrowing his gaze at me.
I shake my head, "Of course not." I make circles on his chest, pinching his fleshy nipple beneath his shirt, "I can't wait for you to drill me."
Fuck no.
I just want to get out of here.
He jerks from the pinch, quickly grabbing his glass of wine.
One of the men suddenly rises up, "I thought we came here for business? So why are you wasting our time with some random whore?"
My jaws clench but I stay in Lucky's arms.
Lucky drops his glass, "I didn't say you can leave. Sit down and let's finalize the deal."
Deal, Interesting.
The other guy sitting across Lucky frowns, "In front of her?"
Lucky tightens his grip, "Don't piss me off. How much do you need for the package to be shipped?"
The men exchange glances with each other, "A hundred thousand dollars."
Lucky sits himself up, his protruded stomach now resting on his thighs, "I'll send a hundred and twenty five, for the bonus package heading to the East. But if you guys can't add that, you can refund."
Thanks to Timothy, I understand every codeword being used. And it makes me feel so disgusted at Lucky and the men.
How do they sleep well at night when they're busy selling people like they're objects? Pathetic.
The men agree and they take the bottles of alcohol as they leave, staring at me like they're trying to memorize my features. That makes anxiety crawl up my spine but I suck it up.
With the men exiting, Lucky turns to me, "How much for a night, sexy?"
How audacious to think I'll sleep with him.
"I'm quite expensive," I drool, showing him more of my boobs and he leans forward but I move back.
"I've got enough to keep you for a lifetime, just name your price," He states, his breath oozing with the stench of alcohol.
"Three thousand dollars," I mutter.
He chuckles, "Baby, I'll double it. I've got cash in my room, let's get going."