Igor clears his throat. “Your room’s down the hall. Third door. Get yourself settled, then go collect the princess from her tower and escort her to the kitchen for some food. We don’t want those curves wasting away.” He checks his watch. “Then make yourself scarce by midday. Boss has some guests coming, and he doesn’t want anyone hanging around.”
“What kind of guests?”
“Prospective customers, but not for Emma.” Igor’s expression shutters. “The kind you don’t ask questions about. And you don’t want to know who you are.”
Fair enough.
He looks around at everyone at the table. “That goes for all of you. Unless you get a direct invitation from Kozlov, stay away. If these people know you’ve seen their face, you become a loose end.”
Whatever ill will there is about my sudden arrival is replaced with an unease about the upcoming visitors. Whoever they are, they must be pretty scary people with deep pockets. The locked door with the permanent guard springs to mind. Whatever they’re coming here to see must be behind that door.
Or whoever.
I squeeze past the men and out the door, ignoring their unfriendly stares and the whispered conversation that starts up the moment I’m through. Of course they’re going to talk. In their eyes, I haven’t proven myself worthy to be part of their little gang, let alone lead it.
“So that’s the guy? The one that...”
I don’t hang back to eavesdrop on what they say about me. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. And Chase is right, the worse they think of me, the better.
When I shove open the door to my room, I’m unsurprised by the bland decor. One double bed. One locker and a small wardrobe. Everything I need, and the lap of luxury compared to sleeping on the hard ground outdoors, as I’ve been doing for weeks. In the corner, the duffel bag I brought to the club sits. The zipper is open, searched thoroughly by the security guards downstairs, I presume.
I drop the bag on the off-white comforter, glancing inside to make sure everything is still there, before deciding not to jinx myself by unpacking. I don’t plan on staying long.
First things first, I pull out my phone and send a coded message to Chase’s secure line, updating him on what I overheard. Jake’s deadline. The plan to kill him, regardless. Saturday’s auction. The mysterious guests arriving at midday.
Then I pocket the phone and head back toward the blue wing.
A maid pushing a linen cart gives me a wide berth, eyes downcast, and a guard I don’t recognize nods once as we pass each other on the stairs. I nod back, memorizing his face, along with every exit, every window, every potential escape route, and where the cameras are located.
I stop a few feet from her door and pull out my phone, checking the camera feed one last time. She’s still curled on her side in the massive bed, the coverlet tangled around her legs. Her hair fans across the pillow like spun gold, and even in thegrainy footage, I can see the tension in her shoulders and the furrow between her brows.
She’s not resting easily. She’s thinking, worrying, even in sleep.
I close the remaining distance, the bronze key warm in my palm, as I turn it over between my fingers.
Today is a whole new day. The closeness from last night is likely gone, and I’ll be back to being another captor.
Her walls will be back up. I have to prepare myself for the likelihood that she’s going to look at me with those fierce green eyes, probably tell me I’m a prick again, and I’m going to have to pretend that doesn’t make me want to pull her into my arms and never let go.
It’s not personal, she’s scared. And once I get her out of here, we can start over.
I slide the key into the lock and brace myself for her anger and despondency.
Time to wake up, my mate.
10
EMMA
I’m going to seduce Bodhi Lennox today.
The thought should terrify me, and it does, a little, but I mostly feel something else. Something dangerously close to excitement.
I’ve been lying here for hours, staring at the ceiling. As dawn’s light creeps in through the window, I’m running through my plan over and over. It’s insane. It’s reckless. And it could get me killed.
But I’m already dead, aren’t I? Saturday is coming whether I like it or not. The only question is whether I go to that auction as Kozlov’s prized virgin and let someone else decide my fate, or take some of that power and control back.
Being killed after getting a taste of Bodhi Lennox sounds a hell of a lot better than what awaits me now. At least I’d go out with a bang. Literally.
