He sat there like a god, looking down on everyone with arrogance, while I was nothing but an insignificant mortal.
I set my glass down, the alcohol burning in my stomach, and forced myself to speak. “I’m afraid I can’t comply.”
A faint, barely noticeable anger flashed in Jim’s eyes, irritated by my defiance.
He flicked the ash off his cigarette and spoke in an icy tone: “You’re nothing more than my pet now. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Understand?”
“I think you’re mistaken, Mr. Marshall. The 3 million you paid was to make me Emma’s replacement,” I replied, standing up straight, refusing to bow to him. “Since when does being a replacement mean stripping in front of a crowd?”
Jim paused.
There was a collective gasp around us.
“There she goes, acting all high and mighty again. You took the money – why the act?”
“God, I hate women who pretend to be virtuous but still take what they’re offered!”
“Seriously, does she think she’s the tragic, beautiful heroine of some movie or something?”
All eyes were locked on me, as if they wouldn’t let me leave without stripping.
Thankfully, Jim didn’t force me. He simply gave me a long, piercing stare.