The blood is still roaring in my ears, but I can’t stop.
Finally, Katia releases me.
When her fist connects with my face, I feel a sickening crunch and stumble backward. Then, I taste blood in my mouth and feel it ooze from my nose. Wordlessly, she crosses over to me and hands me a towel.
I press it against my nose and wince. “I knew you wanted to do that.”
Katia shrugs. “You asked for it. I’ll get you an ice pack. Don’t move.”
As she leaves, I sink into the nearest chair, my anger gone, replaced by a deep sense of shame and frustration. I tilt my head back and inhale mouthfuls of air. When Katia returns, she’s got a clean towel in one hand and an ice pack in the other. Hissing, I force myself to my feet and let the blood-soaked towel fall to the floor.
“It’s not broken.” Katia hands me the new towel. “But it’s going to hurt like hell in a bit.”
I snatch the towel from her hand. “Whatever.”
For a long while, neither of us says anything as I wait for my breathing to return to normal.
Every inch of my body aches as Katia leads us out of the basement and follows at a safe distance until I reach Mason’s room. A first-aid kit is waiting for me inside, but I storm past it and into the bathroom.
I hop into the shower, stand under the head, and try not to imagine Mason with anyone else.
Steam fills the room as I secure a towel around my chest and pad out of the bathroom.
After wadding up strips of cotton, I shove them up my nose and breathe through my mouth.
Gingerly, I change into a clean pair of yoga pants and a cotton shirt.
I take a few sips of water and reach for the laptop on the dresser.
Grimacing, I ignore my mangled reflection on the screen and drum my fingers on the desk. The laptop boots up, and I wait impatiently for a search webpage to load. I type in Elise Thayer’s name. Her image pops up, and regret floods my veins.
Katia is right.
She’s got movie-star looks and style to match.
And her net worth is more than I’ll make in ten lifetimes.
The more I scroll, the worse I feel until I have a pounding headache. An hour later, I push my chair back and stand up. I shove my arms into a hoodie and pull the hood down, so it conceals half my face.
Katia doesn’t say anything when I emerge.
At the bottom of the stairs, I turn to face her, ignoring the pain blossoming in my face. “I’m going to the club.”
“There’s a table in the back you can use.”
In silence, she leads me from the manor and into the late afternoon air. A warm breeze drifts past us as we cross the lawn that separates the estate from the business complex. I try not to think about the fact that none of Mason’s men stop us as we stride past.
Slowly, Katia leads me around the back of the building, and she punches in a code that opens a door. My eyes widen as we step inside, and the smell of alcohol and perfume hits me. Katia leads us down hallways until low, rhythmic music fills the air.
The hallway opens into the main part of the club, and it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust.
As it does, I glance around at the low light and the few clients scattered around.
Katia clears a path to a table on the top floor that overlooks the club.
I sink onto the couch, and she disappears.
She returns with Miss Deveroux and a tray with a bottle of wine and bowls of food.
