“Never seen anything like it,” another says.
He gets me to the toilet in time, and I throw up until I can’t breathe and I’m covered in a layer of sweat.
“God, I’m sorry,” Rome murmurs, and I realize he’s pressed a cold, wet cloth to the back of my neck. “I’m going to kick Mateo’s ass for drugging you.”
“Didn’t my father tell you to?”
“No.” His big hand rubs up and down my back, and I want to lean into his touch and purr. “I don’t know who your father is, Lulu.”
Is he telling me the truth?
I want him to be. From the moment I laid eyes on this man, I’ve been pulled to him. I can’t explain it, but I don’t think it’s all because of my vagina.
“Better?” he asks.
I nod, and he leads me to the sink, where I swish water in my mouth. Then he leads me out of the bathroom.
Three huge men stare at me, and I stop dead in my tracks.
“We donotwork for your father,” Carson says. His voice is still hard and gravelly. “We don’t work for anyone but ourselves.”
“And we need to know who your father is,” another of them says.
“Wh-who are you?”
“This is Julian and Mateo,” Rome says, pointing at each of them. His arm is still wrapped around my shoulders, holding me to his side.
Julian is the one who asked about my father.
My gaze bounces between them, and I think they’re telling me the truth.
I don’t think they work for my dad. If they did, wouldn’t they just take me to him rather than bring me … wherever I am?
I take a shaky breath, and when my knees want to give out, Rome picks me up and carries me to a couch, where he sets me down and covers me with a blanket.
“I’m not cold,” I tell him.
“I don’t want them looking at you without more of you covered,” he replies simply, calming me with an even, deep tone that seeps into my nervous system.
I’m in my sleep shirt and shorts. No bra.
Because that’s what I was wearing when everything happened.
“Oh.” I tug the blanket around me. “Okay. I’m not trying to cause trouble.”
“Great,” Julian says. “We don’t want trouble. Who’s your dad, Lulu?”
I can’t escape. Rome won’t let me out of this place, and the three men in front of me—who all have splatters of blood on them—quietly terrify me. Yet, unexplicably, I feel safe. Even though I was drugged.
Fuck.
“Salvatore Rizzo.” It’s a whisper, and all four seem to lean closer to me.
And they look mad.
“My real name is Eloise Rizzo, but my friends call me Lulu. I use the termfriendsloosely because I don’t really have any, but my classmates and our housekeeper call me Lulu. I had to run away, so I came to Vegas. I found a job, and I like it, and I don’t want to leave, but obviously my dad found me, and I won’t go back to him, so I have to leave Vegas. I have some money, so I can just go and be out of your way. Wait. Why do you care who my dad is?”
I frown up at them.
