Chapter 330 – An Unbreakable Vow with the Heartless Tycoon

“You’re definitely not ready,” Abbie says. She softens her voice and says, “Maybe if you keep practicing, you’ll be ready for the next test.”

“Why do you think I’m not ready?” Gabrielle asks.

“Listen, sweetie, and you need to learn to walk before you can run,” Abbie says. “You’ve only been here a few days. You need time to learn and get better. Have you ever had a customer yet?”

“Not really,” Gabrielle mutters.

“Look, I can’t stop you from taking the test, but I think it’s a bad idea,” Abbie says, raising her hand to look at her glitter manicure under the light.

“Who decides?” Gabrielle asks.

“Only Mr. Oliver,” Abbie says.

Gabrielle nods and runs out of the room. She races up a steep flight of stairs and then another until she’s on the top floor. Hill Ivan, the club’s general manager, sits at a wooden desk in the hall. When he sees her, he nods, and she passes his desk and opens the door behind it.

Jackson is leaning back in his desk chair, with his long legs propped up on the desk. He’s wearing slim-cut gray trousers and shiny black shoes. He raises his head to look at her and smirks.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“I want to try to get promoted to jasmine,” Gabrielle says.

Jackson raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, “You’re not ready for that.”

“When will I be ready?” she asks. “What do I have to do?”

“Depends on how badly you want it,” he says, letting his eyes trail up and down her body. “Tell me, Gabrielle, how badly do you want this promotion?”

Gabrielle fidgets, tucking a sweaty strand of hair behind her ear. She’s wearing a leotard and black tights, but Jackson makes her feel completely n.a.k.e.d. She bites her lip and straightens her shoulders, trying to look calm and confident.

“I know you brought me here so I can pay off my debt,” she says. “But if I’m a blue girl, you’ll never get your money back. Do you know how much money they make each night? It’s practically nothing.”

“It’s true,” Jackson says. “Even if you somehow became a rose level girl, it would take you years, maybe decades, to pay your debt. But we have rules here—hasn’t Abbie explained them to you? Girls who have been at the club for less than six months can’t test for a promotion.”

“Can’t you make an exception?” she asks, trying to flutter her eyelashes the way the other girls do.

Jackson raises his eyebrows and laughs. She feels blood rush to her face and looks down at her feet. I must look ridiculous, she thinks. No wonder he doesn’t want to give me a chance.

“I know we slept together, Gabrielle, but that doesn’t give you any special claim,” Jackson says. “If I had to give preferential treatment to all the women I’ve slept with, I wouldn’t have any power or money left.”

“Don’t play games with me, Jackson,” she says, looking straight into his cold blue eyes. “I know I was your first. You might have a reputation as a playboy, but I know I took your v.i.r.g.i.nity.”

Jackson’s mouth twitched, and his eyes flash, “Why do you think it was my first time?”

“I’ve learned a lot from the girls here,” Gabrielle says. “They say that men never last long their first time. When we were together, you finished fast.”

Jackson swings his legs off the desk and stands up. He crosses the room in two long strides and towers over her. His face is calm, but he’s breathing fast—his chest rises and falls in short, rapid bursts.

“That’s not true,” he says. “But I don’t want you spreading that rumor around. So I’ll allow you to take the tests, but there’s no way you’re going to pass any of them.”

She stares up into his face and asks, “What are the tests? What skills do I need: singing, dancing, making conversation, telling jokes? I can learn all of that.”

Jackson laughs and says, “None of that stuff really matters. Of course, it’s helpful for seduction, but that’s all pointless if the s.e.x isn’t good. You need to prove you’re good at pleasing a man.”

“Um, how do I do that?” Gabrielle asks.

Jackson rolls his eyes and says, “Well, first both of you will need to take your clothes off, and then the man will—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Gabrielle says with a blush. “I meant how does it work for the promotion? Do I have to make love in front of a judging committee? Or with a judging committee?”

“You have to prove that you have what it takes to be a jasmine girl,” Jackson says. “You know they’re expected to serve ten customers every day, right?”

“Ten?” Gabrielle squeals. “That’s impossible.”

“You’re the one who wants to be a jasmine girl,” he says.

“Fine,” she says. “No problem, I’ll do it.”

The words are bold, but her stomach churns and twists. She can’t imagine making love with ten men everyday. Especially not some of the men who come to Top Girls Club. The only membership requirement is money, and it turns out there are many old and ugly rich men.

“Are you so eager to f.u.c.k strange men?” Jackson asks, his voice low and harsh.

Gabrielle presses her lips together and grinds her teeth. She knows he’s just trying to upset her, but it’s working. He reaches out and brushes her jaw with his fingertips.

“Relax,” he says. “How about this—if you can earn more than five hundred dollars in a day, I’ll ask Hill to make you a jasmine girl no matter what.”

“Really, no matter what I do?” she asks. Before he can change his mind, she adds, “It’s a deal.”

Servants pile gift bags and boxes into Andrew’s luxury RV. Leilani watches them rush back and forth like busy ants. Behind the servants carrying gifts are two bodyguards. Each guard has a hand on one of Jessica’s arms, and they’re marching her toward the RV.

Jessica is wearing a long red wig that almost matches her own hair. Her nails are painted bright red and filed to sharp points, and she’s wearing tight jeans and a low cut tank top. She glares at Leilani and mutters something beneath her breath.

“Andrew, I don’t want to go back,” she says. “Caitan is going to laugh at me when she sees my short hair. Why don’t you just ask that bodyguard James to keep an eye on me here?”

“No way,” Andrew says. “You’re going back to mom and dad’s place. I’m sick of dealing with you.”

Jessica scowls and lets the bodyguards carry her into the RV. She sits down on a sofa and twirls her fake hair around her finger. Leilani sits across from her and tries to avoid her scorching glares. She turns to face Andrew, but he’s staring at her with a combination of adoration and l.u.s.t. I’m not sure which sibling is worse, she thinks.

Servants in blue uniforms line up outside the Clifford mansion. The RV pulls onto the gravel path and the servants’ smile and wave and bow.

“Miss Clifford, Mr. Clifford, welcome home,” they shout.

Jessica adjusts her wig and bites her lip. She doesn’t want any of the servants to find out about her horrible haircut—they all gossip a lot. If the servants find out, it won’t be long before Caitan finds out too.

The butler climbs the RV steps and knocks at the door, “Welcome back, Mr. Clifford. Your sister and mother are waiting for you in the drawing-room.”

Jessica clears her throat, wondering why the butler seems to be ignoring her. Doesn’t anyone care that I’m back? She thinks. I’m so sick of everyone, always acting like Andrew is the most important child. If only they knew that he’s going to ruin this whole family by marrying that bitch of a woman.

“Where’s my dad?” Andrew asks, wrapping one arm around Leilani’s waist.

Jessica sucks in her breath and looks away. It’s so disgusting how he acts around her, she thinks. He should be embarrassed. She clears her throat and nods at the butler and then nods toward Leilani’s stomach. The butler seems to understand, and he takes a subtle glance at the soft swell of her belly.

“Um, Mr. Clifford had to go to a meeting,” the butler says. “He should be back this evening.”

Jessica gets up and pushes past the butler. She rushes to the drawing-room and sees her mom leaning back on the sofa, flipping through the pages of a magazine.

“Mom, look at my hair,” Jessica wails, starting to pull the wig off her head.

Someone clears their throat, and Jessica freezes—Caitan and her boyfriend are also in the room, whispering together in a corner. Jessica straightens the wig and glares at her little sister.

“My God, honey, what happened,” her mom asks.

“Andrew is dating this awful whore,” she says, rubbing her eyes and sniffling. “This woman hates me for no reason. She cut all my hair off and then convinced Andrew to lock me in one of the attic rooms. I don’t know why she’s so mean.”

“Well, at least the wig looks great on you,” Caitan says, giggling behind her hand. “I mean, it’s better than your normal hair. But that’s not saying much, is it?”

“If you like it so much, I’ll give it to you,” Jessica snarls. “And then I’ll give you a haircut to match mine.”

Caitan ignores Jessica and wraps her arms around Mamai Abraham, her boyfriend. Mamai waggles his eyebrows and plants a kiss on Caitan’s forehead. Jessica rolls her eyes and looks away—Caitan is always hanging onto the arm of some man. But it’s humiliating that she’s with Mamai now.

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