Chapter Sixteen

Elle

“I’M GOING TO kill my assistant tomorrow.”

David raised an eyebrow as I climbed from the backseat of the Range Rover. “Nice of you to inform me. I’ll ensure the appropriate lawyers are called.”

I gave him a grim smile. “I do not want to be here, David. Do you think—”

He smothered a slight grin. “Ma’am, if you want, I’ll drive you right home.

“But if you don’t mind me saying, you look beautiful, and it seems a shame to waste such beauty without having one drink before you go.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re a meddler. Just like she is.”

“I’m nothing of the sort.

“In fact, I’ll help with the murder tomorrow if tonight is not a success.” He closed the back door and headed toward the driver’s seat, leaving me abandoned on the sidewalk about to enter the dragon’s playground.

“Consider me a willing accomplice. Now, go and have fun, and call me when you’re ready to leave.”

My emotions were full of poutiness and frustration. I could just tell him I was ready ~now~. But I wasn’t a four-year-old, and he was right.

It would be a waste not to go in for a second—especially after Fleur’s wardrobe ministrations.

Not that I approved.

The dress she’d chosen was the most daring, risqué thing I’d ever worn.

For a cocktail get-together, she’d gone over the top with a russet-gold silk gown that slinked around my ankles and split up one leg to mid-thigh.

The back was non-existent with just enough height to cover my ass but leave my spine exposed, while the front swooped up to my throat in a gathered cowl.

She’d even gone as far to do my hair for me. She’d fishtail braided it, so it sat over my left shoulder and kept my naked back on display.

The entire time she fussed with my hair and makeup, I’d muttered she was fired and to start looking for other employment.

But once she showed me the finished product, shoved me into the car, and told me my date would meet me there, I had to admit a smidgen (a teeny tiny smidgen) of excitement filled me to have a night out with people other than business associates or my father and Steve.

And to be honest, I looked forward to spending an evening looking the way I did while tormenting and verbally sparring with Mr. Everett.

It was the thought of him being there to take the spotlight off me from the nasty school girls that moved my unwilling feet into the nightclub where a small section had been roped off for our reunion.

Palm Politics was a strange blend of tropical fronds and the décor of a court of law. One freedom and sunshine. The other prison and shadow.

The bar was the podium where the judge would sit and the booths dotted around were a mini oasis in a boardroom of wood and strobe light sentencing.

Goosebumps covered my skin—partly from cold and partly from anxiety at facing these women again—especially in a place such as this. Why couldn’t it be a simple bar with no theme or message?

I hated anything to do with law courts and police—it only layered my guilt with more rancid icing at the thought of Nameless.

I’d tried. I’d failed. I hadn’t given up, but even the weekly phone calls I made to police officers who were kind enough to answer my questions had no news.

If I was a lucky sleeper who enjoyed vibrant dreams, I might’ve concluded he was merely made up of fantasies and heroism, bound together by imagination magic, and made brilliant by adolescent devotion.

But he had to have been real.

I still had the faintest scar on my nape from where my sapphire star had been ripped away, and I still endured the faintest seduction of chocolate on my lips when I was blessed enough to doze in his dream-company.

Standing in the paddling pool of partiers, I doubled my promise to do more. To track him down, no matter the cost.

~Starting tomorrow.~

Or tonight if I can leave early.

My minor discomfort at being watched by leering judges and glinting prison bars switched to major annoyance as Greg appeared from the crowd, holding a glass of champagne and a gin and tonic.

My heart instantly tobogganed down a cliff and shot off the edge in denial.

~Oh, God, I’m so stupid.~

Of ~course~, Fleur hadn’t invited Mr. Everett.

No one knew I’d seen him again, and only my father knew what’d happened at the Weeping Willow.

~She has no clue he exists, so how could I think she’d invite him as my date?~

I’m an idiot.

She hadn’t ruined my aloofness at refusing Mr. Everett’s offer to take me out. But she had sentenced me to endure a terrible evening.

There would be no banter.

No sexy butterflies.

Nothing but obligation to ensure I remained professional—so I didn’t hurt Greg, my father, or Steve, and could look everyone in the eye on Monday with no regrets or dismay.

It didn’t matter my life would be so much simpler if I just gave in to what everyone wanted. But my heart was stubborn and didn’t find Greg romance material in the slightest.

“Hi, Elle.” Greg passed me the champagne.

I didn’t even like champagne. If he cared for me as much as he pretended to, he would’ve remembered that from all the forced dinners we’d endured with our fathers.

The night suddenly looked a thousand times worse.

I might be a bitch in the boardroom, but I wasn’t mean, and Greg had dropped whatever plans he had to be here with me just because Fleur had called him.

I wouldn’t be nasty.

But I wouldn’t be overly gracious, either.

“Hello, Greg.” I sipped the cold bubbles, hiding my grimace. “It’s very nice of you to come with me. I hope Fleur didn’t interrupt your evening.”

He grinned, swiping a hand through his dark blond hair as his overly white teeth caught the strobe light glittering above. “Not at all. When she called, I couldn’t believe my luck.

“Finally, a night out just the two of us.” He leaned in with a wink. “Away from the chaperones.”

I hid my distaste, forcing a smile. “Exactly.”

He slotted himself beside me and, without asking permission, wrapped his arm around my waist. The warmth of his bare forearm tingled my spine and not in a good way.

He’d come to this wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans.

He looked handsome, of course—he was a good-looking guy—but compared to the gown I wore and the finery Fleur had graced me with, I came across as ridiculously overdressed.

My heart plummeted even further off the cliff, splattering on the unforgiving terrain below.

Tonight had slipped from disaster to annihilation. Chloe would never let me live this down if they were all in semi-formal clothing and I appeared dressed like a prom queen.

~Does it matter, though?~

My brain tried to be mature and see the bigger picture. So what Greg wasn’t in a suit—it wasn’t life or death.

So what I might be overdressed and Chloe might be the same cow I remembered—none of it made any difference to my tomorrow. I would still be me.

I would still be as safe and as happy as I was yesterday.

~Be brave, Elle.~

And then leave with dignity.

Straightening my shoulders, I stepped out of Greg’s embrace but immediately looped my arm through his before his face could fall.

Squeezing his bicep in thanks, I said, “Let’s go mingle, shall we?”

* * * * *

Two hours I lasted.

Two hours where I was no longer me but a ~better~ version of me.

Noelle was left behind, and Elle used the same techniques from dealing with men twice her age to wield mundane conversation with girls she’d long since forgotten about.

There was potty-training chats with Melanie and fake oohing and ahhing over her one-year-old Facebook pictures.

There was biology class reminiscing with Frankie, pretending I felt the same way about our teacher Mr. Bruston, and how sexy his mustache had been.

~Yeah, not at all.~

There were snippets of cattiness from Maria and Sara about who ought to have gone out with Rollo Smith in summer camp, and the requisite fond recalling with Chloe about shopping late at night and running riot through Belle Elle when Dad let us sleep over in the ladieswear department.

She called me Elle the Ding Dong Bell only twice.

But each was like a knife in my side.

I didn’t let it show.

I didn’t hint at vulnerability or let my guard down.

Greg had no clue how hard this was for me. He merely guffawed at the nickname and plied me with more champagne I didn’t want.

Every single conversation I put my all into. I smiled and nodded and listened. My cheeks hurt from fake grinning, my feet ached from standing, and my exposed back became extra sensitive to everything.

My skin prickled with minor drafts as people moved behind me, warm patches as people stood close by, and even the tell-tale tingle of people staring at me, itching spots on my shoulder blades as their eyes became fingers and stroked me.

Out of the sixteen people here—eight women and eight men—Greg and I held our own.

My dress had started the poshest of them all, but as more people arrived, I’d settled into an array of chiffon and lace, finally accepting that Fleur knew what she was doing.

The dress didn’t take away my power. It ~gave~ me power. And for the first time, I believed in my own self-worth outside of Belle Elle.

That I could hold my head high and not be afraid of judgment or wrongdoing. That I was my own person and not just a cog in the conglomerate my family had created.

My world was just as good as any others—if not better.

The relief in that gave me a well of kindness to forget that Greg got on my nerves, and I didn’t turn away from his touches of affection.

I accepted three more glasses of champagne, even though the room grew warm and my skin glowed with bubbly heat.

By hour two, my bladder had done all the retaining of alcohol it could, and I excused myself to find the restroom.

Greg gave me a kiss on the cheek—which I didn’t wipe away because the liquor made everything that much more acceptable—and left the roped-off area to make my way through the club.

I guessed the time was ten p.m. or so, but already, the place crawled with bodies and the aura of a good night ahead.

Finding the bathroom, I entered and slammed to a stop as I came face to face with my reflection in a full-length mirror.

~Who the hell is that woman?~

Her braid was a little disheveled with curls free and soft around her face. Her lips were puffy from licking droplets of champagne with remnants of pale pink lipstick.

Her smoky eyes rimmed blue that looked far too sated and happy to be real.

I looked…loose.

My limbs moved with a relaxation I never had when sober. My movements less jerky and sedate.

~Being tipsy suits you.~

I rolled my eyes, listing a little to the left as the room swayed.

Being tipsy was a new experience and one I wouldn’t often do. The false courage and intoxicating bravado could screw up my careful rules.

Greg suddenly didn’t seem so annoying. Chloe wasn’t such a bad girl.

And the thought of going to work tomorrow was a task I had no intention of fulfilling as long as the beat of a bassy tune worked through my bones.

Wanting to return to the party, I quickly did what I was there to do and washed my hands. Drying my fingers on a paper towel, I ran the remaining dampness over my arms to cool my overheated skin.

I’d come to this club cold, and now, I was burning up.

Something else was burning up, too.

Something that normally only came alive around a few very select males. My breasts were heavy, and a tugging sensation deep inside my belly demanded another drink—to let go for once.

To stop fighting and let Greg kiss me because he was the only male around who knew what I was and who I had to be. He’d been raised in the same environment.

So what if he annoyed me most of the time and didn’t seem to truly care about me but only my legacy? He was a man. I was a woman.

It was time to do something about my little problem and figure out how to be a sexual creature and not an untouched virgin any longer.

Striding from the bathroom, I walked with purpose, brushing against strangers and enjoying it for once rather than cringing at having no personal space.

Up ahead, Greg laughed and touched Chloe’s waist, bending to whisper something in her ear. The rest of the group mingled in twos and fours, chatting and drinking.

I knew those people.

I had a life.

I was invited to party with them.

I had freedom, after all.

Only, whatever freedom I thought I had jerked to a stop as a man’s arm snaked around my waist, yanking me back. My languidness from champagne meant I folded neatly into his embrace, too slow to fight.

His lips landed on my ear. “If it was coincidence yesterday, it has to be fate today.”

I froze.

Whatever tipsiness I suffered tripled as his hands roamed my ribcage, taking liberties he wasn’t given, rubbing the soft silk into my skin in ways that should be illegal.

“Hello, Elle.” His lips traced from my ear to my throat, nudging my braid to gain better access.

I shivered.

My body melted—not from him but the champagne. It ~had~ to be the champagne. I wouldn’t allow it to be him.

Sucking in a breath, I tore myself from his embrace and swiveled to face him.

He was just as divine. Just as cocky. Just as dangerous.

“Are you stalking me?”

Mr. Everett grinned. “I wouldn’t dare.”

He stood in a gray suit with the cuffs of his blazer and white shirt pushed halfway up his forearms. How he managed to get the material that high over how muscular his arms were, I didn’t know.

The strobe light decorated his hair, making it seem light then dark, light then dark. The yin and yang of right and wrong—the glimpse of imperfections that made him eternally frustrating.

“After all, why waste my time when the universe keeps putting you in my path?”

My mouth watered as his gaze locked onto my lips. A black ravenousness filled his eyes that any hot-blooded female understood—virgin or promiscuous.

“I don’t believe it’s the universe.” I blinked, forcing myself to cling broken-nail tight to sanity. “I think it’s some sort of game you’re playing.”

He lowered his jaw, stepping closer until our chests brushed. My nipples tightened embarrassingly hard. Not wearing a bra meant my reaction was noticeable through the burnished gold dress.

He licked his bottom lip, his gaze dropping to my breasts then back to my mouth. “If I ~was~ playing something, are you intrigued enough to learn the rules?”

“Never.”

His lips smiled but his face was toxic. “Little liar.”

His hand came up, tucking a wayward curl behind my ear. His fingers captured the diamante chandelier earrings I wore, tugging gently.

“I think you are ready to play with me, you just don’t want to admit it.” He bent his head, breathing into my ear. “I’ve been patient, but I meant what I said to your father.

“I can make you do things, Elle. Things you want to do. Things ~I~ want to do. I particularly liked when you said you’d get on your knees and call me, what was it? Oh, master?”

I jerked back, but with his fingers holding my earring, I daren’t move quickly or far.

He bent forward. His tongue licked my lobe just once.

A lightning bolt arched from his tongue to my belly. A crack. A fissure. A deep cavernous ache I needed, ~needed~ to fill.

“One date,” he murmured. “That’s all I’m asking.”

The champagne switched to more potent alcohol. Had I truly had four glasses? It felt like twelve.

I swam in air. I wobbled in heat. I swayed as his hands locked around my hips, dragging me into him.

Surrounded by people yet all alone in our little cosmos, he rocked his erection into my stomach, grinding his teeth with the same angry desire rampaging in my blood.

The room spun. I did my best to keep control. “I don’t—I don’t even like you.”

“I don’t like you.”

“Then—” He shocked me mute as he kissed my cheek, then rewarded such sweetness with a nasty nip.

“Then what?” he taunted. “Finish, Elle.”

My head weighed more than the galaxy. “Then…let me go.”

“Can’t.” The tip of his tongue soothed the pinch of pain from his teeth.

~Can’t?~

My mind doggy paddled through syrup.

~Why can’t you? Isn’t mutual affection the first key to unlocking passion’s padlock?~

His fingers looped around my throat, full of threat, robust with peril. “Liking each other doesn’t matter.” His fingers dug tighter into my skin.

“What matters is how you feel about this.” He glanced around, assessing how public we were, before his hand swooped between us and cupped between my legs.

The world shot to a standstill.

There was no more music. No more club.

I stood in mud so thick, I couldn’t move. My only way free was this bastard and he was the one drowning me.

Everything inside me clenched then stretched then multiplied with a thousand screaming ~‘mores.’~

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.

“Tell me to remove my hand, and I’ll remove my hand.” His fingers feathered over me, rocking his palm against my clit; his fingers pressing over the tight lace protecting me.

“But if you tell me you’re all right with this, if you tell me to keep going, then you play by ~my~ rules. You become mine in every fucking sense.”

I shivered as his fingers probed harder. I’d never been touched that way—let alone in a crowded bar.

“I—I don’t know.” Words were the hardest thing in the world to form. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I’ll help you.” His hand vanished. His body separated from mine as he grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the dark hallway of the bathrooms.

Marching past the men’s and women’s, he tucked me against the wall and pressed me hard against it.

The moment I was trapped, he put his full weight on me, grabbed my leg, and hoisted it over his hip.

I gasped as he rocked his erection again, pressing directly where his hand had been only seconds before. “Oh—”

“That’s one word.” His face flashed with raven desire. “Say a few more. Agree to play with me.”

My head wanted to roll back and break away as his mouth fastened against my throat—kissing, biting, sucking. I wanted no more thoughts, no more dos and don’ts.

No more reasons why this was wrong and I needed to end it before I forgot everything.

My hands automatically flew to his hair, yanking on the softness, twining my fingers through his thick, healthy strands. The exquisite feel of him jerked me from the moment.

For a second, I’d expected dreadlocked curls and chocolate. Of soft beards and urgent moonlight.

My body swelled but my heart shriveled.

Mr. Everett was not Nameless. Yet he was the second man to ever kiss and touch me in such a way—an accolade I didn’t know if he deserved.

“Wait—I don’t know what you want.”

He chuckled into my neck. “I thought it was fucking obvious.” He thrust up, his shoes squeaking a little on the hardwood floor as he slammed me into the wall with his pressure.

“I want to fuck you, Elle.”

My insides puddled at the crudeness. My ears rang for more even while my lips curled in disgust.

“I want to take you, own you, control you.” His voice bordered on feral. “I’m not going to lie. I could say I wanted to date and pretend to fall for you. But I won’t.”

Conversation helped remind me I was human not an animal. I latched onto words. “So…you just want sex?”

“What I want is to kiss you.” His head came up, his lips glistening from sucking my throat. “Let me do that, then decide on the rest.”

He hypnotized me. He corrupted me.

I breathed fast.

He saw a split-second answer—an answer I wished I could retract—and his mouth descended on mine.

His lips were soft but commanding, tearing through my chastity, spearing his tongue past my teeth.

I moaned as he took a kiss and turned it into something else. He switched it into water and fire and heat and chill. He hoisted me up the wall until the floor no longer existed, just air.

Holding me up with his hips jammed against mine, he seared our bodies together.

And then, it was over.

Sharp, sweet, sudden…entirely soul-destroying.

“Say yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes to letting me have you.” His voice blistered. “Say yes and you’re mine and whatever comes next is my choice, not yours. You’ll answer to me. I’ll do whatever the hell I want.

“Sometimes, you’ll hate me. Other times, you’ll be grateful for my interference. Most of the time, you’ll probably want to kill me.”

He kissed me again. “But I can promise you if you say yes, fuck I’ll make you feel good. I’ll give you what you’ve been looking for. I’ll make you free.”

The stream of eloquence matched his hard-edged charm. He was pretty. Too pretty. So pretty it masked the ugliness hidden inside.

It made me forget that there were more things to seek than just beauty—deeper things. Things he didn’t possess.

In that hallway, in his arms, I didn’t care.

I hated that I didn’t care.

But that was the truth.

He made me shallow.

“Elle?” A voice interrupted our rapid breathing and aching bodies.

Instantly, Mr. Everett let me fall to my heels, backing away and subtly arranging his blazer over the obvious erection in his slacks.

His eyes never left mine, full of promises and menacing intimidation.

I gulped, looking over his shoulder at the man who’d interrupted whatever the hell had happened.

~Greg.~

Smoothing my hair, I stepped forward.

Mr. Everett fell into rhythm with me, crossing his arms like a silent protector and aggressor all in one.

Greg glowered at him. “Who the hell are you?”

Mr. Everett glanced at me with a wicked smirk. That smirk held every sentence he’d uttered. Every command and description. He wanted me. I wanted him. He didn’t like me. I didn’t like him.

Hatred turned to frenzy.

A perfect drug for danger.

Everett’s lips moved; his voice worse than the champagne with intoxication. “Who am I, Elle?”

My blood quivered to finish what he’d started. My brain short-circuited to bypass the fact I wanted him while hating him.

If he could knock me so off balance with just a kiss, what could he do to me in bed?

He’d made me selfish as well as shallow.

~But I can’t sleep with him.~

Could I?

I didn’t like him. I didn’t trust him. I definitely didn’t believe I could ever fall for him.

~So what?~

~You’re old enough to have sex with no strings.~

He’s proven to have a heart somewhere. He has a son.

He. Has. A. Son.

He could have a wife and baggage and so many other mysteries I couldn’t hope to solve. Carnal greed could never trump such laws.

Curling my hands, I shook away the fervor he’d dazed me with.

It didn’t matter I wanted, needed, craved. It would never happen…if he was with another.

~But he might not be.~

Are you saying you’d ignore everything else and use him if he’s single?

My nerves returned a thousandfold.

When I didn’t reply, Mr. Everett prompted me. “Answer your friend. Tell him who I am to you.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are we playing or shall I walk away?”

Such an innocent question loaded with sexual mist and unsatisfied misery.

My fingers fell to my dress, stroking the material, seeking comfort and answers.

“What the fuck is going on, Elle?” Greg marched forward.

I couldn’t believe the champagne had made me think I could tolerate him.

After being kissed by Mr. Everett and then even remotely entertaining the idea of doing the same with Greg, I couldn’t imagine it.

It would be like seeing the most spectacular sunset only to be told I had to live in fog the rest of my life.

“One second, Greg.” I held up my hand, testing the locks and chains around my sexuality as they quaked under pressure. “Answer one question, Mr. Everett. Then I’ll give you an answer.”

“Fine.” A sly grin decorated his handsome face. “But rest assured if your answer is yes, that’s the last time you’ll call me Mr. Everett.”

“Oh?”

He looked triumphantly at Greg as he bent to whisper in my ear. “You’ll be screaming my name as I stick my tongue inside you. You’ll be sobbing my name as I make you come over and fucking over.”

I stumbled.

His hand grabbed my elbow, a low chuckle on his breath. “That name is Penn. You might as well get used to it if, of course, your answer is what I hope.”

“Elle, are you sick?” Greg came forward, his eyes trying to murder Mr. Everett…~I mean Penn.~

I waved him away, flushed and nauseous, entirely too skittish to be hemmed in by another man after flashes of nakedness and dirty sex swarmed my mind.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Ignoring Greg and giving all my attention to Penn, I asked, “My question is, are you with the mother of your child?”

Penn didn’t reply.

“What?” Greg’s eyes widened. “Not only are you cheating on me with this scumbag in a nightclub hallway but he’s cheating on a family?” He threw his hands up.

“For fuck's sake, Elle, I thought you were better than that. Your father believes you’re better than that. ~My~ father believes you’re better than that.”

I snarled, hating the disgust in his voice even though I hadn’t done anything wrong. Not yet, at least.

If that was how those who knew me would look at me, I wanted nothing to do with whatever kinky pleasure Penn offered.

But it was as if Penn knew that.

He brought me close, whispering in my ear again as I kept my eyes locked on Greg. “I’ll answer your question, but I’ll also answer the other you just thought.

“First, I’m not married nor have I ever been. I’m as single as you are. I’m as confined as you are. That’s all you need to know. Second, you’re right to think people will judge you.

“The moment I’ve been inside you, people will know. You’ll be different. You won’t be able to help it. Rumors will start. Friends will change. Future love interests will hate you.”

I stiffened, but he pulled me closer. “But I won’t let you be subject to those rumors alone. Tell me yes, and I take control.

“You won’t have to make any decisions or take responsibility for what we do. It’ll all be on me.” His tongue traced the shell of my ear, hidden from Greg thanks to my fishtail braid.

“Give me that word, Elle, and I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”

I stood at the crossroads, staring at Greg and the future my father wanted—the one where I stood side by side with a man who knew Belle Elle the way I did and would help run the business—while a stranger held me and pressed his cock against my hip, blatantly claiming what wasn’t his to claim.

One was a long-term choice. The other a short-term adventure.

I’d had enough long-term commitments in my life. I wanted to be different. I wanted a rumor or two because that would mean I was interesting and not predictable.

Greg made my decision ridiculously easy.

He came forward and grabbed my other elbow, pulling me away from Penn. “Elle, I’m willing to overlook whatever you just did with this bastard. You’re drunk.

“I know I should never have given you that champagne. Let me take you home where you belong.”

Home.

I no longer wanted to be at home.

I wanted to be lost and crazy and wild.

I yanked my arm from his hold. “I’m sorry, Greg. But I should’ve told you.”

“Tell me what?”

Locking my eyes on Penn’s, I whispered, “Yes. My answer is yes.” A little louder, I added, “But it doesn’t mean I like you.”

“Doesn’t mean I like you, either.” Penn smiled full of cream and sharpness and calmly wrapped his arm around my shoulders, tucking me close.

Together, we faced Greg.

I didn’t know what I expected Penn to do, but it was his turn to be in charge. I was in charge on a minute basis in every aspect of my world.

If he wanted to share that control in a few areas, then fine—~be my guest.~

“I must apologize, too.” Penn smiled coldly. “We weren’t ready to tell people, but I guess now is as good a time as any.”

“Tell people what?” Greg’s eyes filled with panic, not at knowing he’d lost me but that he’d lost any chance at owning Belle Elle. His true colors revealed.

Relief siphoned through me to be free of whatever takeover he’d planned.

To finally see what I’d suspected all along—that I was right to be wary of him, smart to listen to the faint warning bells whenever he was around.

“Tell them that Elle and I…we’re together.”

I flinched a little as Penn kissed my cheek. Still uncomfortable and aroused and so confused I had no idea if this was what I wanted or not.

~Too late now.~

“Elle is mine. In fact, I’m taking her home right now. My home.” He pushed me forward, deliberately forcing Greg to the side so we could pass. “We’ll just say our goodbyes to the others.”

Greg spluttered something I didn’t hear.

I turned to Penn. “What do you mean the others?”

“The reunion you’re here with.”

~How does he know that?~

It added to all the other questions I had about him. All the ponderings and wonderings and itchy uncertainties he invoked.

Was it coincidence at Belle Elle or manipulation that he’d been there when I’d done my rounds?

Was it luck he was here tonight or careful planning?

Would answers to those questions change what I was about to do with him?

That was one question I didn’t want an answer to.

My heart raced, already out of breath with what I’d agreed to participate in. “Let’s just go. I’ll call them tomorrow with my apologies.”

“Oh, silly girl.” He laughed. “The moment you said yes all your choices became void. This is my game now.”