HIS VIRGIN LEECH (3)

"Do you want to continue in my room?" he offered before kissing my neck slowly, while I was still processing what I just did with him.

What I just did TO him.

"No, thank you," I declined dazedly. His kiss stopped immediately then he pulled his face away to look at me.

"What?"

"I... I have another client in a moment," I replied quickly while trying to get up from his lap.

"I can pay you more than him," he offered, still holding my waist. "I'll pay you for full night service. I'll even double your price."

I couldn't figure out whether he already knew about my escort's disguise or was just pretending not to know.

I flashed my best marketing smile at him then pulled his hand from my waist and stood up.

Oh, my panties... I groaned uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry, but canceling client appointments with no prior notice will damage my reputation. And it's unethical," I said while pulling my mini dress back to its original place.

I tried to not think about how embarrassed I felt right now.

"And leaving your client in this condition is 'ethical' for you?" he asked, taking a quick swipe at his bulging crotch with his hand, making me think of what I had just done up there a few minutes ago.

Welp, what he just said was true.

What kind of prostitute got serviced instead of servicing?

I bit my lip, trying to find a way out of this strange situation. "I... can reschedule if you want."

He looked annoyed but suddenly his two strange eyes changed again from dark to bright piercing amber. Was that from the lightning? I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw a faint smile on his still menacing face.

"Fine. Then I look forward to our next appointment, Daisy."

A sigh of relief slipped from my lips before I could stop it. Sebastian Moran seemed to have seen it too as his smile had taken a few degrees deeper.

"Then... see you later, err, Mr. Moran." I waved to him very awkwardly then walked towards the door that led to the hallway, before opening it I turned towards him once again.

He was still staring at me from his couch with an odd expression. I turned then got out of this place as fast as I could.

While walking down the hall I just realized that Moran didn't ask for my contact information even though he asked for 'reschedule'. Maybe he didn't mean it? I thought as I opened the door which was immediately greeted again by the loud thumping of nightclub music.

***

Monday finally arrived very slowly. I was drowning in shame all Sunday. No matter how hard I tried to forget, the memory of that night still flashing inside my head

At last, I could finally transfer my energy and thoughts to work today.

I sighed as I put my satchel bag on the floor of my office. Well, not exactly an office though. It's only a cubicle workspace because as an independent newspaper, The Daily Wire has always had problems with finances and such.

The tapping sound from my cubicle neighbor made me lookup. Zoey, my closest co-worker, rested her arm over the partition.

"Hey, Zoey," I mumbled before reaching for my satchel to find my phone.

"What happened? Did you get a boyfriend over the weekend?"

I stared blankly at her face. "A... what?"

Zoey wiggled her eyebrows, her teasing gaze looking at me playfully. "Oh, come on! What happened to that 'I don't need no man' speech you preached last week?"

"What do you mean?"

Zoey rolled her eyes in disbelief. "Don't play dumb, Ludy, it's not cute. A delivery courier sent you a bouquet of flowers just now."

I stood from my chair and she pointed out a massive bouquet of white flower, it almost covered her entire table. I frowned then looked at her in confusion. "Are you showing off to me?" I chuckled before walking into her cubicle.

Zoey just got married two months ago so they're still on their honeymoon phase.

"It's not from my husband," she insisted. "I think the courier mistake my desk as yours," Zoey replied from behind me. "Geez he must be rich, a big bouquet like that isn't cheap," she went on.

I laughed again then touched one of those white petals admiringly. "Zoey, be honest, do I look like I have a boyfriend?" I asked, pointing at myself.

Today I wore jeans and a flannel shirt, while my long wild hair was carelessly tied up. There's a coffee stain on my shirt and a hole in my faded old jeans.

Zoey looked me up and down and nodded lightly. "But I just called my husband, he said he didn't send me these Daisies."

My hand that was still stroking the soft petals froze instantly. "What did you just say?"

"My husband didn't send me this bouquet."

My stomach felt a little nauseous. "No. What— What flower did you say?"

"Daisy?" She touched one of the petals to inspect it. "These are Daisies, right?"

I stared in horror at the bouquet. Suddenly I heard JAWS theme song in the back of my mind as I search for any card from the sender.

Surely enough a small white envelope was tucked between the stems, I took it and quickly open it. Inside was only a short scribble of note.

'Can't wait for our next schedule. —S.'

My knees felt weak. I leaned against Zoey's cubicle while the card was crumpled on my palm.

"What?" asked Zoey curiously. "Was that for you?"

"Yes," I replied weakly before walking out of her working space.

"Ludy! What about the flowers?!"

"Just throw them away..." I replied lamely as I walked back to my cubicle and sat on my chair. I felt sick.

"Throw them away? Are you crazy? This is expensive!" Zoey still went on.

I didn't answer.

I was mentally calculating my moves, and honestly, looking at those daisies brought back the memory of that night at Magnus.

Sebastian Moran already knew who I am, I thought with a shudder of horror.

But the important question was, did he already know my identity before he caught me or did he only find out after I left his nightclub? What if he already found the recorder I put on his desk illegally?

Various scenarios went through my head and they all looked bad. Looked like I would have to go to prison after all, I thought exasperatedly as I banged my head on the table a few times.

Even if Sebastian wasn't aware of the recorder, he would definitely still report our weekend escapade to my superiors, and I would be fired after that.

"Ludy..." Zoey's careful voice made me stop banging my head instantly.

She gave me a strange look. "Mr. Rochester called you. What else did you do this time?"

"He's going to fire me..." I groaned and then banged my head once again on my table.

"Shit! What did you do?"

***

Mr. Rochester was the editor-in-chief and the most powerful person at The Daily Wire. I only met him when I caused trouble.

If this office was a school, then Mr. Rochester would be the principal of the school.

I knocked on his office glass door several times before his voice told me to enter.

Mr. Rochester was a man in his 60s. He used to be a very well known journalist, famous for successfully uncovering drug trafficking case controlled by the police.

He looked up with his trademark sour face when he saw me entering his office and then asked me to sit.

I closed my eyes before he spoke, to hear I was fired would be more painful if I had to look at his sour face.

"Miss Benson, I want you to cover a charity event tonight," he ordered in his croaky voice caused by decades of smoking habits.

I opened my eyes in surprise. "Sorry, what?"

He cleared his throat and looked at me, somewhat irritated. "Tonight a charity event for children with cancer will be held at Langham hotel. I want you there, and send me your report first thing in the morning," he repeated in a tone that asked me to get out of his office.

Huh. He didn't fire me.

"Didn't you hear what I said just now?" he almost barked at me.

"Charity work. Hotel Langham," I repeated quickly as I stood up then excused myself out of his office.

How strange. I thought I would definitely get fired just now. And why did Mr. Rochester himself gave me this assignment? On top of that, he asked me to report about trivial events like tonight's charity.

He knew what I was capable of. I almost brought down Bill Kovach and my track records for the last five years were pretty great.

Gosh, now I sounded like an arrogant bish.

Well, whatever. Covering this charity event was nothing compared to getting fired.

...Or so I thought.