Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 137205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“Oh, I’m never going to Heaven, regardless of how long I spend in Purgatory. I’m in Hell, that’s where you’ll be meeting me. You won’t be able to enter without an invitation, so I’ll send one of my men outside to escort you in. What are you wearing?”
I glance down at the outfit I put together before heading out tonight. “Um… a white silk blouse and a metallic pink skirt. What exactly is Purgatory?”
“A club,” he answers.
“And you have… men?”
The line falls quiet. For a moment, I wait, hoping he’ll speak again—and not even really sure why I hope that. I guess I like talking to him, even if he is a mysterious stranger.
“We’ll get better acquainted once you’re in my territory, Miss Meadows. In the meantime, you should probably text your friend to let her know you won’t be coming back inside. Don’t tell her where you’re going.”
That’s a sketchy request, but it doesn’t feel like a request at all—it’s an order.
If Jackson ordered me around, I wouldn’t have liked it, wouldn’t have tolerated it for very long, but recalling what this man said about not accepting answers he doesn’t like, I remind myself that whoever he is, he’s used to getting his way.
I don’t know who he is, or what kind of trouble Jackson could be in that this man is involved with, but it seems to me I have little to gain by arguing with him over this.
I can tell Charity where I’m going. It’s not like he would know I disobeyed him.
“How do I know I’ll be safe?”
“You don’t,” he answers simply.
I wait for him to assure me I will, but he doesn’t.
It feels discomfiting, but I’m not sure why. If he did mean me harm, it’s not like he would tell me. It would have cost him nothing to reassure me, though, and he made the deliberate choice not to. That says something about him—something I’m not sure I like.
Before I can decide whether or not to heed the warning in his words and his carefully chosen silence, a sleek black limousine pulls up to the curb and diverts my attention.
I watch as the driver gets out and looks over at me. He’s not a slim older man with a mustache and a cheap suit like I might imagine the driver of a car service to be. He’s younger and muscular, clean shaven, and his head is shaved, too. “Hallie Meadows?”
A strong sense of foreboding washes over me at the sight of this driver who looks more like a fighter, but I ignore it and nod.
He nods once, then walks around to open the back door. His gaze returns to me in a way that makes me feel like it’s his job to keep an eye on me. Like if I ran right now, he would give chase.
He gestures for me to get inside.
I’m not sure I should.
“I believe my ride is here,” I tell the man on the phone, hoping for some kind of reassurance that I’m not making a massive mistake.
“Then I’ll see you soon,” he says.
He hangs up before I can ask any other questions.
The driver is still waiting with the door open.
Now that I’m not on the phone with that oddly compelling man, I feel even less sure about getting into the car he sent for me. It doesn’t seem like a good idea.
I look back at the club. The bouncer is watching, a bit more curious now that a limo is waiting for me.
I hate to leave Charity, but I can always text her once I deal with whatever Jackson’s problem is. I could meet back up with them at whatever bar they head to next—or maybe even invite them to this Purgatory place. The man said it was a club. An exclusive one, sure, but apparently “his man” can get me in.
He could probably get Charity and the other girls in, too. Charity would definitely get a kick out of getting into such an exclusive place. It would probably be the highlight of her whole bachelorette party.
The more I think about it, the more it seems like I should get into the car he sent for me, so without further hesitation, I do.
Chapter Two
Calvin
When I invited Jackson Price—an employee of mine who isn’t bad at his job, but certainly has room for improvement—to come out with us tonight, my CIO thought it was merely because I was taking a measure of the man. Using an unorthodox method of taking a peek inside and seeing what he’s made of so I will have a better idea of how to make the best use of him professionally.
He’s not completely wrong about my wanting to assess the man, but it had more to do with his recent breakup than any professional intentions.
I guess the breakup isn’t really recent anymore, but I only found out about it recently.