Even if I managed to, Shana would probably be waiting there to drag me back out. She’d instructed Anya to work the west wing and I was on the east, along with a few other employees I didn’t know well.

  Now she was routinely patrolling the perimeter to make sure none of us were marring the Millennium’s flawless image by slacking off.

  Balancing my serving tray on one hand, I weaved between a pair of round tables and approached another group of attendees.

  Their attention was fixed on the center of the room where the dance floor had been reduced in size to accommodate a dark red dais of sorts to serve as a stage. This turned out to be my saving grace. I was as interesting as the flickering tealights thanks to the items being brought forth. I had no clue what made them so valuable.

  There were a bunch of odd paintings and macabre sculptures—one deemed the Veiled Virgin with a contorted face, among other things I couldn’t possibly name. I stopped a few feet behind a balding man and curvy blonde having a conversation about a painting.

  The man looked old enough to be her great grandfather, but seeing as his weathered hand was firmly planted on her ass, that likely wasn’t the case. I took a quiet breath and braved approaching them. With the looks I’d been receiving half the evening when I dared speak to some of these pleasant individuals, I loathed to interrupt, but it’s not like I had much of a choice.

  “Beef carpaccio?” I asked politely, keeping my voice low.

  Without sparing me a glance, the man let go of his partner’s ass and reached back for one of the delicacies. I counted what was left and silently rejoiced. If I could hand off the final three, I’d have a valid excuse to slip away for a few minutes. It shouldn’t be too hard. These things seemed to be a crowd favorite. I personally didn’t see the appeal in them. Even if I had all the money in the world, I couldn’t imagine myself fancying thin slices of decorated raw meat.

  It brought back memories of when I handled freshly skinned chickens.

  I stepped away from the couple and made my way back around my side of the room. I was waved off twice and then completely ignored before finally ridding myself of the last meaty delicacies. I added my serving tray to the small pile waiting to be collected by kitchen staff and lingered near the back of the room, giving myself a few minutes breather.

  More guests arrived as another set of items were brought onto the dais, the room full of soft chatter and music. There was no auctioneer, just two older men in suits minding the stage so no one got too close.

  I’d worked out that this was a silent auction kind of thing. Selections up for bid would remain for a set amount of time during which the bidders would be tapping away on their phones. They didn’t have to give them up like we did.

  The process wasn’t nearly as exciting as someone firing off numbers and specs. I imagined it had to be done this way due to the heavy degree of privacy they were aiming for. Anya hadn’t been exaggerating when she mentioned how exclusive it was. All the entrances and exits were being safeguarded so that outsiders couldn’t sneak in.

  I searched the room to see if I could spot her, not having any luck. A few men looked my way, one’s gaze lingering for longer than was socially polite. As I contemplated going to get another tray of appetizers to pass around—or plotting an escape—a dark-haired woman stepped into my line of sight.

  There was a look in her eyes that gave immediate cause for concern, yet no one paid her much attention. She started to approach me and faltered. I smiled to reassure her I was staff, but the look of trepidation remained.

  She subtly glanced behind her and then came forward with a renewed determination.

  “Are you okay, ma’am?” I asked once she was closer, keeping my voice low.

  “Quickly,” she whispered, making a motion with her hand.

  I looked down and saw a small slip of paper grasped between her fingers. Deducing she wanted me to be discrete, I plucked it from her as subtly as I could and read what was written.

  Diabolus has come for you.

  I re-read it, brow pinching in confusion. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  From just over her shoulder, I caught sight of Shana making her way towards us. The second my attention shifted elsewhere, the woman snatched the paper back and stuffed it into her mouth.

  Bewildered, I watched as she chewed and swallowed, rendering me speechless. The trepidation morphed into what I could only describe as something that rang of desperation before she turned and walked away without another word.

  What in the world?

  “What’s with her?” Shana echoed my private thoughts once she reached me, staring after the woman.

  “I have no idea.”

  She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I should’ve warned you, some of these people are a bit, er, different.”

  I wasn’t sure if that applied to what just happened. Everything about her behavior indicated something was wrong.

  I decided right then to keep my mouth shut. If she needed help, maybe this was her way of trying to get it. I wasn’t sure what Shana would do if I told her.

  I’d feel terrible if I made a bad situation worse by involving the wrong people. I wanted to find her again without being obvious about it, but first I had to deal with this.

  “Did you need me for something?”

  “Oh, yes. I need to borrow ya for a moment.”

  She took gentle hold of my wrist and led me across the room towards a table that was closer to the dais. Three men and a woman with red hair were sat around it. A nervous flutter went through my stomach as I recognized two right away. Had they lodged a complaint because of earlier?

  “Is something wrong?” I questioned, testing the waters.

  “Not at all,” Shana replied, flashing me a smile that didn’t match her easygoing tone.

  As we closed in on the table, everyone seated turned to look our way. Shana stopped and positioned herself behind me, placing both her hands on my shoulders.

  “Here she is.”

  The man who walked in on me in his suite was the first to stand. He smiled and it gave him an entirely different aura. Upstairs he’d come off as unapproachable and somewhat cold. His smile morphed that demeanor into one of charm and intrigue. Lord help anyone with ovaries he graced with an actual grin.

  This time I couldn’t stop myself from shifting uncomfortably beneath the weight of his unflinching gaze. I looked at Shana, so I didn’t have to hold his stare. “What did you need me for?”

  “Mr. Hawthorne wanted to meet you.”

  Hawthorne? Where had I heard that name before?

  “I was just telling Ms. Dolion how impressed I was by you.”

  This had to be some kind of joke. Even his tone was degrees warmer. He came around the table to stand in front of us. He’d changed since earlier. He was now dressed in a black three-piece suit that fit him perfectly. I tried and failed not to notice the way in which it seemed to hug his arms.

  “I didn’t do anything other than my job,” I stated evenly, forcing myself to meet his stare.

  “She’s always so modest,” Shana gushed, giving me a light squeeze.

  Mr. Hawthorne made no attempt to hide his perusal, his gaze traveling over my body from head to toe. The people still sitting were doing the same, albeit a less thorough exam. I suddenly felt very much like one of the objects being brought to the dais.

  My hands began to feel clammy from the unwarranted attention.

  “You look different with your hair down.” This came from the man who’d made the sly remark upstairs.

  Unsure how to take his comment, I forced a smile. At this rate, my face was going to split in half. I’d removed my ponytail and run a quick brush through it after changing into the provided uniform for this event. I hadn’t dared come in here with the mess atop my head that they had been subjected to earlier.

  “You didn’t take the money. That says a lot about your character,” Mr. Hawthorne continued.

  “I was simply doing my job,” I reiterated, probably harsher than necessary, but I was beginning to feel like a broken record.

  “Bishop.” He made a gesture to his dark-haired companion. Almost immediately, he was handed a cylinder glass full of something ruby red.

  “This was imported from our isle for tonight.” He turned towards me and extended the cup.

  I was reminded of earlier when he offered me a tip. If I knew not accepting it would lead to this, I would’ve snatched the money in a heartbeat. I glanced at the glass and shook my head.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this either. I really didn’t do anything extraordinary.”

  Shana stepped out from behind me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Go ahead and have a sip, sweetie. You deserve it.”

  Sweetie? She hated that endearment. Had she undergone a personality transplant in the last few hours? There was so much wrong with this I didn’t know where to begin. For starters, she knew I wasn’t old enough to drink. In the privacy of my own home was one thing. Here was a completely different story.

  Not only that, drinking on the job was expressly prohibited. It was a two-part clause in the employee contract we signed before working at the resort. She’d fired three girls for breaking it less than two months ago.

  Her abrupt change in attitude further heightened my discomfort. As respectfully as I could, I removed her arm and put some space between us. She shot me a look that was a mix of apologetic and something else. Pleading? Desperate? Just like the woman who ate the scrap of paper.

  My stomach knotted. Who the hell were the people at this table to make a veteran employee switch up so drastically and practically tremble with nerves? Specifically, the man in front of me. Would he take this rejection personally? When I looked at Shana again, I knew without a reasonable doubt she was doing this to please whoever this man was.

  I was missing a crucial detail in this unfolding scenario, but I didn’t want to cause issues for Shana by flat-out rejecting him again. Withholding a sigh, I decided it was best to just get it over with and go about my night so I could find the woman in need of help.

  Begrudgingly, I took the glass and brought it to my lips. The smell reminded me of tobacco mixed with mint, an odd combination. I knew very little about wine, preferring the fruity drinks from gas stations or shots of Silver Patron.

  I took a generous swig, pleasantly surprised at how good it tasted. A mix of raspberry, red fruit, chocolate, and black licorice combined into liquid silk. I finished half the glass off and refrained from wiping my mouth with the back of my palm.

  “Do you like it?” He sounded as if he genuinely cared about my opinion.

  I nodded and rolled my lips together, swallowing one last time. “It’s really good, thank you.”

  His attention dipped to my mouth where it remained for three long seconds before flitting back to ensnare me once again. He didn’t seem to mind all the eyes that were on us, and I was unable to look away. As much as I wanted to put space between him and me, I couldn’t deny how captivating he was. He radiated an aura of magnetic charm, interlaced with a hint of danger.

  “Finish it,” he prompted, breaking the mystifying spell I’d begun to fall under. His underlying command was like barbed wire against my skin. A faint smirk said he noticed.

  I lightly cleared my throat and tightened my grip on the glass. “No, I need to get back to work. Thank you again, though.”

  Before he or anyone else could say anything else, I hurried away.

  Anya rushed up to me as soon as I’d made it a fair distance from the table. She’d watched the entire interaction from the sidelines.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’ve been better. Want some wine? It was imported from an island.”

  “An island? Sure.” She gingerly took the glass from me. “Now tell me what the hell just happened.”

  I was still wondering that myself. “I’m not sure, but I need some air. Cover for me?”

  “Yeah, of course.” I heard her soft reply as I walked away. This day was proving to be one for the books. All I wanted was to go home and put it behind me. Anya owed me big time.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I blinked a few times to clear my vision, confused by what I was seeing.

  Dark vaulted ceilings.

  The aromatic scent of lavender and labdanum.

  Ice slithered through my veins, chasing all my drowsiness away. This wasn’t my bedroom and definitely not my apartment. I sat up, panic flaring when a weight around my leg made itself known. I flung a heavy comforter onto the floor in search of what had ahold of me.

  “What is this?” I reached down and skimmed my fingers over a thick chain wrapped around my ankle.

  “What the fuck is this?” I breathed out harshly, searching for an opening, some way to get it off. My fingers sunk into a slight indentation, and I realized there was no way to remove this without a key of some kind.

  I sucked in a ragged breath and twisted around, crawling across the bed to follow the chain. I shoved aside a nightstand and found a small metal plate affixed to the wall. The end of the chain was bolted into its center. Logic and rationality failed my cognitive ability. I pulled and tugged, cursing loudly when nothing happened.

  I nearly tripped as I spun to study the room. Of the two massive floor lamps inside, only one was on, giving the large space a soft glow. The furniture was like something you’d see in a high-end catalog, or one of those scripted shows that staged luxury houses.

  Long, thick drapes hung on the far wall, blocking any view a window may have given me. I couldn’t get to them anyway. The chain wouldn’t stretch that far. A little further down was a small bathroom that lacked a door. The sight of it had my pulse ratcheting. No one would set up a room like this without having some kind of specific purpose for it.

  I didn’t want to think about what that could entail, not when I had no way of breaking free of the chain around my leg and I was to be at the mercy of whoever brought me here. I shifted in place and looked my body over. I was still in the chiffon dress. The only thing missing was my shoes and aside from the dull pounding in my head, I felt physically fine. This gave me a small measure of relief.

  I racked my brain, trying to piece together how I could have wound up here.

  The last thing I remembered was telling Anya I needed air and managing to slip out onto the amphitheater’s private terrace.

  What happened next? Why couldn’t I remember? Everything after was a black stretch of nothing until I woke up here. I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything other than the wine Shana encouraged me to try. Wait, was it the wine? The glass had already been filled when I got to the table. If it was spiked, someone could have done it beforehand.

  No, it wouldn’t have been just anyone…

  At the sound of a handle turning, my attention flew to the only other door in the room. Time seemed to slow as it swung open. When he stepped in, my suspicions were confirmed. A million thoughts flitted through my mind, but I found I couldn’t voice a single one. My heartbeat was like a drum, drowning them all out. He slowly shut the door, his eyes never leaving me.

  He'd changed clothes again.

  He was no longer in a suit but a quarter sleeved button-down and slacks—sans tie. That could only mean that night had turned to day. I took a step back and then another until I felt the mattress against my legs and was forced to stop. His predatory eyes tracked every step.

  “There’s no need to be afraid.”

  How could he say that? I was chained to a wall like some kind of animal ensnared in a trap. I’d been kidnapped. Taken. I had no idea where I was or what he intended to do with me. Fearing I might provoke him if I revealed my inner turmoil, I swallowed and wet my lips, willing my voice to come out without shaking.

  “Where am I?”

  Slipping his hands into his pockets, he came closer, stopping just outside arm’s reach “Do you remember me?”

  I nodded sharply. It would be impossible to forget him. Just as I would never forget this moment. “Why am I here?”

  “Are you feeling okay? Sometimes Rohypnol can be a bit hard on the stomach, or so I’ve been told.”

  My lips parted slightly. There wasn’t a hint of guilt or remorse in his tone. He might as well have been telling me the day’s forecast. I curled my hands into fists.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “You’re cold.”

  “Huh?” I looked down and saw goosebumps all over my arms. If he hadn’t said anything, I wouldn’t have noticed them.

  “Regrettably, I can’t stay with you today. I only came in to see how you were doing and to let you know you’re safe. No one here is going to hurt you. I’ll adjust the temperature and have a light meal brought in. Do your best to relax until then.”

  Was this man serious? Relax? No one in my situation would sit back and kick up their feet. He turned to leave, causing another wave of panic to wash over me.

  “Wait!” I stepped forward so quickly the chain smacked loudly against the floor. “Please, just tell me where I am.”

  He paused with one hand on the doorknob. “Are you sure you really want to know?”

  His question was as unsettling as whatever possible answer he would have. I hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding.

  “Where you’ve always belonged, Lolita. You’re finally home.” He pulled the door open and walked out, leaving me to process his reply.

  True to his word, the air shut off moments after he left. It had been blowing steadily through a vent high above the bed. I waited for as long as I could to see if he would return, but he never did.

  I wandered around the bed and into the bathroom, replaying what he’d said to me before leaving. I didn’t want to read too much into it. I couldn’t trust a word he said. Although, he did come right out and tell me he’d laced the wine in an unsettling manner. But it didn’t matter how honest he chose to be. He wouldn’t be winning any awards for his sane and rational disposition. I was chained inside his house, for fuck’s sake. If that’s what this place even was.