Page 116 of Arran's Obsession

“Who?”

“Tattooed, works for your boyfriend?”

I never had got to the bottom of the names of Arran’s crew. My money was on Connor being Convict. The connection snapped into place in my head, pity swiftly following. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, he never would. He’s the best.” She gave a small huff of breath. “Not that he’ll talk to me. I applied to go into the game, like you.”

My heart thumped. “You actually wanted to do it?”

Her cheeks reddened. “I mean, no? Maybe. I just wanted to get his attention.”

“Girl, same. I needed to talk to Arran and found myself in there.”

“No!” She cupped my elbow. “Are you okay?”

At last, someone had asked. I liked Everly in a fast instant. “Not one other person wondered that, but yes. I am.”

We’d made it to the lift that would take us down to the office corridor. Manny frowned and touched his finger to his ear, listening to something.

Instantly, my back was up. This floor felt safe. No gang member could get up here easily, and Manny had men posted discreetly here and there. Downstairs was another story. Ishould be there. Not hiding from any danger that might find those I’d started to care about.

“What is it?” I asked him.

His gaze came to me. “There’s a disturbance in Divine. A distressed woman shouting your name.”

“She’s shouting for me?” I cast my mind over the women I knew who weren’t members of this club. Or more specifically, those who were interested in me. I came up blank, then suddenly remembered Cassie. She was missing. Perhaps it was her. “Is it safe to go check it out?”

“I believe so. Arran’s occupied right now, but I have a team in the room.”

I came back to Everly. “I’m sorry but I need to go.”

“Of course. I knew this was a bad idea. Never mind.”

She appeared so dejected, I paused.

“Give me your phone number and we can talk another time.”

A little brighter, Everly riffled through her clutch to hand me a small card. Fancy. I took it, then the lift arrived and Manny and I were descending fast.

On the office corridor, we fast-walked to the strip club. In the middle of the open floor, a woman about my age swung around, the contents of her glass slopping.

She had her blonde hair loose in a spill down her back, just like mine, and a black dress, similar to the one Arran had cut off me.

Not Cassie at all. It was Natasha Reid.

The woman who should’ve been in the game but whose place I stole. I’d only seen her once on the video call I’d made to apologise, but her physical likeness to me was undeniable.

“It should’ve been me,” she howled, her New York accent thick. “I’d clean up this place. You’re all fucking dirty, do you hear? All you disgusting men who come in here with your dirty thoughts need to find Jesus.”

To one side of the room, Alisha looked on, arms folded and her expression pinched. Lara stood beside her with a collection of waitresses behind. On the stage, the dancers had stopped to watch Natasha’s meltdown, and the packed tables of men grumbled about the interruption.

I crossed to Alisha. Manny might’ve filled me in, but this wasn’t my territory. It was hers.

Alisha flicked her gaze to me. “More trouble with your name on it.”

Lara tucked her tray under her arm. “She arrived ten minutes ago, already drunk. I refused her service because she was rolling, but she grabbed a glass off a tray then started yelling at everyone. And calling for you.”

“She said my name?”

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