Page 5 of The Client
“She can’t lie,” Jackie cuts in. “They’ll know.”
“They’re not going to know,” Cat insists. “They only check you if you say youarea virgin. Why would they bother checking otherwise? Iza, just don’t tell anyone you’re a virgin and you’ll have a much better experience. Trust me. And remember, it’ll be over soon.”
“What about that girl Anja?” Jackie says. “She wasn’t—”
“Shut up, Jackie,” Diya says, shutting her down. “We don’t talk about that.”
The room goes silent, the tension thickening.
Slinging the strap of my purse over my shoulder, I stride to the door and duck out before anyone can stop me. I can’t be late for this meeting. My whole career might depend on it.
As I power walk to the KZM building, I can feel the anxiety racing through me. Normally, my roommates’ chatter rolls off my back, but something about their parting words and the dark mood is clinging to me this time.
I’m lost in my own head as I enter the lobby, and I’m about to present myself to the guard at the security desk when a man in a suit appears at my elbow, as if he’s been waiting for me.
“No need to check in, Miss Jasinski,” he says. “This way, please.”
“And you are?” I ask.
“Mr. Zoric’s assistant,” he says, without offering his name.
We get into an elevator and ride silently to the top floor, which is so high up that my ears pop on the way. The door opens into an extravagant hallway with gleaming marble floors, fussy antique furniture, and gold-framed art on the walls. I catch the faintest hint of cigar smoke.
The assistant leads me to a vast room with an impressive, hulking mahogany desk in the center and three walls of floor-to-ceiling windows with a panoramic view of the city.
“Mr. Zoric, your three o’clock is here,” the assistant says.
I take in the man behind the desk. Wide, powerful shoulders. Gray hair slicked back. One hand furiously writing on a notepad in front of him. Unsure if I should approach the desk or stay where I am, I look to the assistant, but he’s already walking away. Leaving us alone.
I clear my throat. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Zoric. May I say how—”
“Sit down, Izabela.”
At the sound of his voice, my stomach drops. I walk over to the leather chairs in front of his desk and lower myself into one. That’s when I notice a white department store bag sitting on the floor next to his desk. There is so much tissue paper spilling out of the top that I can’t see what’s inside.
“Take the bag,” he commands. “It’s for you.”
He still hasn’t looked up.
Scooting a bit on the seat, I reach over and pull the bag closer. “Thank you.”
“Answer me this, Izabela. Are you a virgin?”
Electric zaps race from the base of my spine to the back of my neck and grow like a predatory weed, curling and twisting. The room seems smaller suddenly, my focus hazy, as if I’m in a dream. I’ve misunderstood him.
That’s what’s happening. I didn’t hear him correctly.
“I’m sorry?”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
My lower lip twitches. “Um… could you repeat the question, pl—”
His head snaps up and his impatient glare nails me to my seat. Displeasure and irritation color his features and for a slip of a moment, I fear that I’m going to be fired. My contract ripped up.
“Have you fucked before or not? That’s the question.”
Oh, God. Diya wasn’t joking. None of them were joking. There warnings were… real.
