"Oh." I pull my hand back. "What if I accidentally nick myself?"
“That’s unlikely,” he says. “You have to twist it open, so it won’t open accidentally. Test it out.”
He turns it counterclockwise until the blade disappears, then passes it to me. I unfold it slowly, careful to keep the sharp edge pointed away from me, then twist it closed.
The teddy bear looks so innocent. Now that I know what it is, I can also feel some liquid sloshing around inside it, which I assume is the sedative.
"Where do you even find these things?" I ask him.
"I'd give you one of my Glocks, but they won't let us inside the club with that," he says. Then he checks his watch. “I think it’s time.”
He squeezes my thigh before starting the bike.
As he drives toward the club, everything that happened up to this point flashes before my eyes. The time our eyes first met at the auction. The gentle way he spoke to me when I was under the influence of the aphrodisiac. Twenty questions at the beach. The pink bicycle with the wicker basket. The church wedding. Our time in Paris. All of it merges in my head like a movie.
I've heard that people see their life in snapshots before they die.
I really hope it's just nerves making me feel this way. It’s probably all in my head, even if I can't seem to shake this ominous feeling for some reason.
The beach club stands out like a glittering constellation in the dark.
I expected it to be loud and ostentatious, but it’s all class. Torches flicker softly in the night, lighting the path to the club's entrance. A glowing sign with the club's name hangs above the entrance in muted gold letters.
SAMUDRA.
We park our bike and walk the rest of the way. Dante takes my hand in his as we enter the club.
He leads me to the bar and orders drinks for us. The club has an open layout that stretches out before us. I can see the ocean from here. The sight of the moon-kissed waves calms my racing heart. If I concentrate, I can almost hear the roar of the ocean over the music. There’s a vast outdoor section with sunbeds under coconut trees. Some people are having dinner outside, but most of the crowd is on the dance floor.
I sip on a pink cocktail as Dante takes stock of everything.
At first, everything seems normal.
And then I start noticing the unusual things.
The smiles of the staff members linger a beat too long. Their eyes look dead, like they sold their soul a long time ago. A server carrying a bottle of champagne passes before me. He’s wearing a forty-thousand-dollar Rolex watch.
The beach club is a front. Something more sinister lurks underneath. Literally.
Every so often, I spot people disappearing down a hallway. They don't return.
An outsider wouldn't notice this, but we know that this isn't any ordinary club.
"Do you want to dance?" Dante asks.
"Right now?" I ask.
"Just for a little while," he says.
“Okay.” I smile, letting him lead me to the dance floor.
He pulls me close, and I rest my head against his broad chest. He wraps his arms around me, and it feels like the safest place in the world.
Music swirls around us as we sway. I try to push all other thoughts out of my head and focus just on this. I let him twirl me and move me to the rhythm.
“I’ve never done this before,” I say. “I never had a reason to dance.”
He looks at me. There’s understanding in his eyes.
