Free SLAVES OF HOLLYWOOD 2 by Declan Brand

now, stains beginning to show under the arms of his expensive suit jacket. “The two in question are far from the only fraudulent charges made against this account--if you’ll just take a moment to examine the rest of the records here, you will find that there were scores of phoney charges made within two-weeks of the days you are looking into! All were made on this one account—all were made by telephone—and not one of those calls came from inside this office!”
    He leaned back for a moment, took a second to adjust his eyeglasses--then shook his head. “The evidence clearly shows that those charges were made fraudulently—whether you like it or not!” He started to pull his papers together. “Now, I’ve gone out of my way to show you everything that you wanted to see solely because Mr. Winston himself requested I do so.” He fixed his eye on Kelly, who was still looking at the last paper he had pushed toward her. “But, frankly, if it had been up to me, you would have needed a court order to see any of this!” He ripped the paper out of her hand. “And I’ll be damned if I’ll give any help to someone as bull-headed and un-cooperative as you! If you want to speak to me or any of my people again, you will need that court order!” He picked up his books and motioned for his silent companion to join him. “For now, though—good day!”
    The two men stalked through the office door, a smattering of displaced paperwork marking their track.
    “Satisfied?” Fanelli shook his head as he looked down at the still frozen-in-place Kelly. “They’ll never talk to us again—and I wouldn’t be surprised if that little bugger weren’t already complaining to my boss—my boss—not yours!”
    Kelly glared at him; her face a mask of anger and contempt. “I don’t care who they complain to! Those charges came from here—from Harry Winston! I’m sure of it!”
    “And your proof?”
    “I don’t have any--YET.” Kelly stood up and headed for the door. “But I will.” She pushed past Fanelli. “As God is my judge, I will!”
    Fanelli was already fuming as he followed her past the now-frowning receptionist and out to the car. His chances of a dinner date were clearly gone—and he knew that Ellis was going to give him a going over when he got back to the office. Shit! He slammed the door of the car behind him. Why did it have to be me? He glanced over at the glaring face of Megan Kelly. Why couldn’t Ellis have dumped her on Fitzpatrick or Albergo! He started the car, threw it into drive. I don’t deserve this. He pulled into the traffic that was just building on Sunset. Nobody does!
     

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
    It only took Mike a few moments to undo the straps holding Kelly’s ankles in place. Once they were free, he reached up and removed the prod from her dripping cunt, laughing at the noises she made while he did so. This thing made quite an impression on her , he told himself. I’ll keep that in mind for future situations…
    With the prod out, he untied the bonds that held her waist and pulled the lower half of her body away from the pole.
    “Don’t move!” She was now stretched out, her knees bent as far as they would go and far forward of her waist. She was held in place solely by the leather cuffs that secured her wrists to the back of the pole.
    Mike stepped to the rear of the pole and released those wrists—but before she could do more than groan at the sudden reawakening of circulation, he had pulled a set of metal cuffs out of a pocket and snapped them into place, re-tethering her hands behind her. With that done, he stepped back to the front of the pole and regarded the girl still kneeling before him.
    That nipple is still bleeding a little , he noted as he looked toward the FBI badge still pinned to the girl’s breast. I hope it’s not getting infected … He rubbed his chin, thinking about the best way to handle the potential problem. The principal won’t want her to get sick—and if that