Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 148184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
It’s all too easy to reach the street, order a car, and make it to the casino address the voice on the phone had given me. I didn’t know if it had been Adrian himself, as I hadn’t spoken to him long enough to memorize his voice, but it is the only lifeline I have.
The casino is packed. People laugh and drink as the sound of slots and bells and crowds press in on me. I squeeze through the throngs of people hunting for the side entrance. I’d heard this special side door was only for those in the society. And only society members can gain access. As I approach, I’m not quite sure if I’m a part of the society or not. I’ve never participated in any of my father’s business dealings, and the party I attended a couple of weeks ago was my first society event. I don’t have time to consider it further as a man steps in front of the door, blocking my way.
I barely have time to slap a sultry smile on my red-painted lips before I reach him. “Hi,” I say. Smooth. Super smooth.
The man is at least a foot taller than me, his black hair tied back into a ponytail. He narrows his eyes and jerks his thumb toward the gambling crowds. “This isn’t a place for little girls. Turn around.” His voice holds a hint of an accent that I can’t place.
I try to give him something like a cross between sexy and serious. Even as I have to focus on not shivering under the hard edge of his stare. “I’m not a little girl, and I was invited to this party.”
His eyes narrow, and he steps toward me. I refuse to back down, thinking of Rose and how much we need to be saved.
“Who invited you then?” His tone says he doesn’t believe a word I’ve said.
I dig into the small clutch I brought that holds my phone, lip gloss, and all the cash Rose and I could scrape together and produce the card. He doesn’t even look at it closely before he’s holding the door open for me. He presses a black stamp onto my hand and waves me through.
I whisper, “Thank you,” as I pass and head down a long hallway. The rug under my feet is a rich crimson, and glittering sconces light the way. The floor tilts downward as I walk, like going down an incline before the carpet ends, and I reach a concrete floor and a barrage of shouting.
In what looks like an open parking garage is a roped-off area. Seats are set up around it on three sides, and two men in the middle are beating on each other with their bare fists. I take a step backward, the light and comfort of the long tunnel looking a little more appealing than this…brawling.
But then I spot him. Adrian. He’s on the far side of the ring with two other men flanking him. He’s dressed similarly to our previous meeting, except in place of the bow tie, the collar of his black shirt is open, revealing the long line of his throat.
I focus on him now. It seems like the only safe place with blood flying from the beating in the ring. If I think about it, if I look, I’ll go to some dark places. Places I’ve visited courtesy of Sal and the video library he enjoys forcing me to watch.
Like gravity, his gaze hits mine, and I feel it through my entire body, all the way to my sore toes. It’s like a balm. A soothing, cooling calm across my senses as we stare at each other. Yes. I felt something like this when we met. Like my entire being knows that in his presence, I’m utterly safe, and for as long as I’m with him, I can relax and let down my guard.
He gestures at one of the men beside him, and that man skirts the ring, the mixed crowd watching the fight parting around him like they fear touching him. Then he’s beside me and gently leading me away from the ring toward another hallway. This one is identical to the first, and I let the man grip my elbow gently to tug me beside him. It should occur to me to ask who this man is and why he’s taking me away from Adrian, but I don’t. It’s not like I have a choice in my presence here. I signed away my choice the second I walked into the building.
The man opens a door, tugs me into a room, and then closes the door again, leaving me alone. I stare around the space. It looks like an empty office, maybe. The furniture is deep polished wood, but nothing is on the desk or decorates the walls.