Page 21 of Wicked Games of Desire

Instantly, my heart races. I can’t believe it, my plan actually worked.

I take off as fast as my fucked-up leg will let me. Passing them and going in the opposite direction. Shouting erupts behind me, the shriek of a woman’s voice followed by what sounds like the throwing of punches, and I can only pray the chick had an overprotective boyfriend or something that will keep Maddox busy while I escape.

Pushing past a couple making out on the landing, I make it to the stairs and hurry down them as fast as I can. I rush past entranced partygoers moving to the repetitive beats of the dance music blaring from the speakers. The fluorescent glow of an exit sign catches my attention, calling my name from its position on the far wall. I waste no time in heading toward it, shoving my way through the sea of sweaty bodies, thanking the Lord I chose flats tonight instead of heels; with my fucked-up leg, there really were no options. Knowing freedom’s within my reach, my heart races with excitement.

My plan worked. Despite the excruciating pain in my leg, I continue running at full speed, ignoring the discomfort. Shoving the heavy exit door, the cool night air hits me in the face in an icy rush.

Freedom.

Haunting green eyes meet mine, and for a second, I’m transported back in time. “Ian,” I gasp.

“Red,” he calls my nickname, his handsome face contorted with worry.

I move toward him as a hand snakes around my middle, hauling me off the ground and flinging me back inside the club. The door slams shut with a thud and locks in place.

The darkness of the club swallowing me up, I scream like I’m being murdered. No. No. No. I was so damn close I could smell the fresh air. How did Maddox catch me?

He drags me back inside, his enormous arms closing around me like a vice. His furious eyes glare down at me, nostrils flaring with each angry breath. His fingers dig into my flesh with a grip that feels like iron. “That wasn’t very smart,” he pants, trying to catch his breath. He must have damn well seen his life flash before his eyes when he thought he lost me. I can only imagine how murderous Alessandro would be.

But I don’t give a shit about how this will affect him. My stomach sinks, an emptiness consuming me. A heavy sigh escapes my lips as a lump forms in my throat, making it hard to swallow. My shoulders slump, and as he drags me back up the stairs, a wave of disillusionment washes over me, leaving me feeling hollow and defeated. This was my one and only chance, and I was so freaking close.

My stomach twists in knots, not from fear of what Alessandro is going to do to me when he hears about what I did. It’s because I know without a doubt that was Ian, my trainer, hanging outside of the club. His face has made a permanent imprint in my memory. He was right there, like he knew I was about to run through the door, and he was waiting to save me. I knew he would be worried about me, searching for me after I didn’t show up for our session last week. But what I can’t work out is how he would have known I was here and about to come right out that door. It’s too specific to be a fluke. Is he on to them and about to save me? I have to hang on to the hope that he is.

Chapter 13

Maddox sits in achair facing away from me. He hasn’t said another word to me since he handcuffed me to the pool table in Alessandro’s office on the top floor of the club. And I’m fine with that. I have nothing to say to him, anyway. It’s been twenty minutes since he locked me up. I know that because I’ve been watching the clock on his office wall, everytick, tick, tickcrawling under my skin. The anticipation of waiting for Alessandro is killing me.

The door suddenly opens, and music blares through from outside as Alessandro strides in, his face ready for murder. Right behind him is Ricky, looking as panicked as he was the night I got shot. I plead with him to save me, knowing my efforts are wasted on Alessandro, but maybe Ricky will stop him from doing anything rash before he has time to cool off.

“What the fuck is going on here, Maddox?” Alessandro’s voice booms through the office, his attention turning to my babysitter.

“She ran,” is all he says in response.

Fear seems to flicker in Alessandro’s eyes as he turns his attention toward me. Fear, not anger.

I can’t help but let out a laugh, the angst in the room hitting boiling point. “Nearly worked too, didn’t it, big guy? Why don’t you tell Alessandro how far I got before you caught up with me?” I taunt Maddox, doing everything I can to cause trouble between them. I must really have a death wish tonight. I don’t miss the way Ricky’s lips twitch at the sides. He thinks me mocking Maddox is funny as well.

“Leave us,” Alessandro demands, his shadowy eyes fixed on me, sending a chill over my bare arms with their intensity.

Maddox grumbles something I don’t make out as he passes me, gladly leaving the room, but Ricky lingers a little longer, his piercing eyes running over me locked up. They’re filled with what I can only describe as longing. Seeing me all helpless and handcuffed to this pool table has him all hot and bothered. Maybe his brief altercation with Alessandro earlier hasn’t deterred him after all. Eventually, he closes the door behind them, leaving us alone.

Slowly, Alessandro approaches me. Swirling tension fills the atmosphere, his intense, enraged stare raking over me like he can’t decide if he wants to kill me or screw me into next week.

I recline against the table. I’m unbearably uncomfortable, putting all my weight on my good leg for support now that the injured leg has begun to throb. The new dress is tight and shorter than I would like, when I’m at his mercy and he’s looking at me like his prey.

He comes to a halt directly in front of me. “Why are you trying to run away from me? When I’m the one who wants to protect you?” He gently touches my arm with his fingertips, slowly tracing a path up to my neck and finally reaching my hair.

I stiffen at his touch because I don’t know what to expect. Shouldn’t he be angry with me? But his words are more pained. I don’tanswer him. He’s given me no reason to believe he’s trying to keep me safe. Since I’ve been in his presence, his men have shot me, locked me up, and forced me to follow their stupid orders. This is not a safe environment by any means.

He releases the hair tie holding my hair off my face, and it falls in curls, cascading down my back. “What happened to the red?” He runs his hands through it, feeling the silky strands.

I am taken aback by his sudden shift in conversation and find myself staring back at him, my expression bitchy. Because how the fuck else should I be with him? “Do you really need to ask?”

“The red was better on you,” he huffs, handing out fashion advice like he has a degree in cosmetology.

My lips curl up in a sarcastic smirk. There is no way for me to stop it. He has a knack for getting under my skin, and I’m reaching my breaking point trying to keep my composure. “Like I give a fuck what you think about my appearance.”

He pulls my hair off my face in a makeshift ponytail, forcing me to lift my gaze toward him. It’s obvious he’s relishing the dominance he has over me, with me locked up. But I’m not as helpless as he thinks. I could happily still knee him in the junk if I wanted to or bite any part of him that comes too close without my say so. Except, the tightness of his hold brings tears to my eyes and a flutter of excitement with it. I enjoy him like this way too much.

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