Human Commodity by Candace Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

liquor was hidden in a plastic bottle in her makeup case, and as soon as she caught up with her suitcase…   A man opened a door on the left side of the office.
    Damon raised an eyebrow at the scene of the angry woman facing off against Phillip.   “Problem so soon?”
    “Absolutely not,” Phillip answered, and Monique pulled her eyes away from the half naked Adonis to watch the lawyer feed her last three sheets of carefully outlined requirements through a paper shredder.
    “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.
    “Exactly what you have contracted for,” Phillip replied.   “Your outstanding debts will be paid, and the rest of the proceeds will be forwarded to your mother.”
    “And how, exactly, are you going to accomplish that, if you have no idea of the position I’ll find acceptable?”
    “The position you’ll find acceptable is whatever I tell you it is,” Damon responded.
    Monique’s angry brown eyes met his.   “Excuse me, I’m not finished ironing out the conditions of my contract with your lawyer.”
    Phillip smiled and stapled his ‘accurate’ investigative report to the top of her slightly inaccurate contract.   “The conditions are ironed out, Monique, with notarized signatures of both you and your attorney.   In your dire financial situation and with no modeling work on the horizon, I doubt if he’ll agree to represent you on fraud.   Hell, Mary, he’s not going to say a word about his culpability in this mess… even when I cut his fee payment out of your purchase price, in half.”
    Monique’s anger was melting from her eyes as she realized the mess she was in.   “I’ve changed my mind about this.”
    Phillip waved the contract.   “No you haven’t.”   He turned to Damon.   “I was just speculating as to whether that magnificent rack was natural.   Her price goes down further if she lied about that too.”
    Damon folded his arms across his chest and said, “Lose the sweater.”
    Monique glanced down at the soft cashmere garment, and her shocked gaze fixed on Phillip again.   “Take me to my apartment until I can sort this out.”
    “Lose the fucking sweater, slave.”   Damon reached her in two long strides, and Monique looked up at him and backed into her chair.   She was five-ten, and this guy stood at least six inches taller than she was.   Damon wound his hand through her ponytail, and said, “Hand me your scissors, Phillip.   This shit’s a pain in the ass to rip through.”
    Monique tried to claw at his face while he maneuvered behind her.   She was screaming curses while she tried to balance on her heels as Damon bent her back over the chair.   He whacked the last six inches off her hair extensions and dropped the mess of fur onto her chest.   “One more cut and I’m hitting the real stuff, bitch.   Where the hell do you think you’re ending up with a crew cut?”
    “Phillip?   Phillip, this was a mistake.   I don’t think I understood the terms of my service correctly.”   It was the last vestige of civility Monique could muster as her mind spiraled into panic.
    “Damon is most thorough in explaining any ‘terms’ you may have misunderstood,” Phillip replied, and he sat back down to hide the erection pressing into his zipper.   This was becoming much more enjoyable than he had anticipated.
    Monique felt the blade of the scissors under her collar and thought of the wasted destruction of the expensive garment.   Clothes had earned her fortune and respect… and shit, she had modeled in bikini tops and bras before.   “Stop… please… I’ll take it off.”
    Damon released his hold and he moved to stand in front of her, keeping the scissors in view.   Monique glanced back at the door, but she instinctively knew that she would never make it.   Her shaking fingers reached under the inch ribbed hem, and she lifted the sweater over her head.   She folded it carefully, and gripped it in one clenching fist.   “This is a four