Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
She just glances at me but doesn’t answer.
“I don’t want to have to call the cops,” he warns.
“Cops?” I ask, suddenly panicked. We used fake IDs. We’ll get in trouble.
“Shh. It’s okay,” he says to me, tucking me into his arm. His tone when he talks to me is different than when he’s talking to Nina, and I get the feeling he’s trying to keep me calm.
“Just let me take her home, okay? You can have one of your guys drive us if you want. She’ll be fine. I’ll take care of her,” Nina pleads.
He doesn’t answer right away. I think he’s considering her request, and at that moment, I’m not sure what I want.
“I don’t think so,” he says finally. “Andrei will take you home. Kat will stay here with me.”
“But—”
“Andrei,” he cuts me off, looking over Nina’s shoulder at a man I don’t like the look of. “Take Nina home,” he says.
Andrei eyes Nina, and I don’t like the look on his face.
“Just take her home, you hear me?” he tells Andrei.
Andrei snorts. “Yes, sir.” He mock salutes, then shakes his head. “Let’s go,” he tells Nina, grabbing her arm.
“We have to leave together,” I try to tell him, but Nina’s already walking away with Andrei.
“Relax, Kat,” he tells me as Nina turns to look back at me over her shoulder. “Nina will be fine,” he adds, and I look up to find him studying me again.
“I don’t feel good,” I manage, just as my knees give out. This time, he scoops me up in his arms like I weight nothing and begins to walk in the opposite direction of where Nina’s going.
“You just close your eyes,” he tells me. We’re on an elevator a moment later. The doors slide closed, and at least it’s quiet so I can think again.
“The music’s too loud.”
He looks down at me and smiles like he’s humoring me. “You don’t like loud music, but you’re at Delirium?”
Delirium. It’s the name of the club. Nina’s been here before, but it’s my first time. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere you can rest.”
I nod. I’d like to rest.
“Is Kat short for Catherine?”
“Katerina.”
“Katerina.” It sounds foreign when he says it. “Means pure.” His face grows thoughtful. “You don’t belong at this club, Katerina. You’ll just get dirty here.”
Before I can think about what he means, the elevator doors open, and he carries me into a large, quiet room. There are several doors leading to other rooms, and a large desk that’s holding three screens that flash various images of the club downstairs.
He sets me on the couch. I watch the monitor that shows Nina walking in the parking lot, then getting into a car with that man.
“Nina?” I try to get to my feet on legs that feel like Jell-O. Nina and I have a pact. We come together, and we leave together. Always.
“Shh, Kat,” he says. His hand on my shoulder gives me a gentle but firm squeeze. “Nina’s fine. Andrei’s going to give her a ride home.”
“We’re supposed to leave together,” I tell him again.
“Not tonight.”
He sits down beside me, and I’m glad I don’t have to get up because I don’t think I can stand.
I look at him, really look at him. He looks different up here without all those flashing, colorful lights. He has messy brown hair, and his eyes aren’t as dark anymore as he studies me. They’re warm now. Like chocolate.
I love chocolate.
Without thinking, I reach out and touch his face, feel the rough stubble of his jaw. He raises an eyebrow but lets me.
“Do you know what you took?” he asks.
I drop my hand when I see that pink stain of lipstick I put on his shirt. I try to rub it out, but he pulls my wrist away.
“It’s fine. What did you take?”
I squint my eyes and shift my gaze up to the ceiling, trying to remember. “It looked like candy. It was my birthday gift.”
“Happy Birthday, Katerina. How old are you?”
“Nineteen,” I say without thinking, then remember my ID says I’m twenty-two.
I open my mouth to amend my answer, but the elevator dings, interrupting us. He stands up. I realize I don’t know his name. I’m about to ask, but then the steel doors slide open and a man comes inside. He’s carrying my coat in one hand and a little bag of those colorful pills in the other.
“That’s them,” I tell him.
They both look my way but ignore me, and when they speak, I don’t understand a word they say because they’re talking in a different language. Russian, I realize.
I lean my head against the back of the couch and close my eyes. I feel hot, and there’s a residual thumping between my ears like leftover sound from downstairs. I wish it would stop, but at least I’m out of the noise and sitting down.