Page 61 of Mastered By Lust

Fuck. Fine. I shake it off. These guys aren’t actively hurting her at the moment. We can talk later, and I’ll tell her everything. But first, “Have you seen Leah?”

Anoopsexpression comes over her face. “She went off with Patrick. It’s been…a couple of songs? So maybe ten minutes? I’m sure she wouldn’t have left without telling me.”

I want to tear into her for letting Leah out of her sight, but from Danica’s perspective, this is a safe party, thrown by our cousin.

“I’m going to look for her,” I say.

“Dmitri.” Danica levels me with a steely, gray-eyed glare. “She’s fine. She’s with Patrick.”

There’s a lull in the music as a new song begins, the intro quiet. We only have a short moment before it will start blasting again and making conversation impossible.

“She’s with Patrick? Are you sure?” I throw my hands up at the overcrowded room. “How do you know she didn’t leave? Do you even know what Patrick’s hoping to do here?”

“It’s…your jazz club. Patrick’s and yours.”

“No, he’s doing his own thing, and I have nothing to do with it anymore. I told you I’m out.”

“I didn’t think you meant it permanently. Dmitri, what happened with you and Patrick?”

“And Leah just went through all that shit with—” I break off, not wanting to air Leah’s troubles in front of Layton.

The hint of what Leah just experienced with her ex seems to poke through Danica’s defensiveness. Her shoulders fall and she nods. Even if Danica isn’t worried, she can empathize with me.

The music builds, generating intensity and volume. Everyone collectively waits for the beat to drop.

“I’ll come with you.” Danica gives her new friends an apologetic smile.

“We’ll help you find your friend,” Layton says.

The last thing I need is to involve a Layton in this. It’shisfamily I’m worried about. But they don’t know Leah. And even if they know Danica is an Aseyev, they haven’t harmed her. Yet.

They never will—I won’t let them.

I shrug. If they want to help find Leah, fine. After that, I’m taking both girls the fuck out of Salding and we’re never coming back.

“Leah!” I push people out of my way, searching the room. I hope she didn’t leave.

The beat drops, the music becomes deafening. I can’t even hear myself think. I march over to the speakers, follow the cord, and find the outlet. I yank the plug from the wall.

The music stops. Everyone boos in disappointment, but I don’t give a fuck.

“It’s Leah you’re looking for?” Layton’s buddy asks. I get the sense he couldn’t hear much of our argument a minute ago. “Danica’s friend?”

“Yeah,” I grunt.

He points to swinging doors, about fifteen yards from us. They’re propped open to reveal a stairway.

I see Leah. Finally. And thank Christ. Patrick is with her, not some Salding piece of shit.

My relief is gone as soon as I feel it. Because Patrick isn’t acting any better than a Salding. He’s…he’s fuckingtouchingLeah. One arm wrapped around her, the other partially lifting the hem of her dress as he slides his hand beneath it. His hands are all over her. He seems completely unbothered by the sudden lack of music.

Leah isn’t pushing him away. Does she like what he’s doing? I don’t think she’d do that to me, to Gage. My heartbeat slows and my lungs constrict. There are too many people in this crowd. I can’t get a good view of Patrick and Leah. I need to know if she wants this.

People start making their way to the exit. Now we have to fight the flow of traffic to get to the stairs. I’m ten yards away from them. Still fighting the crowd. I hate this. Why won’t people fucking get out of my way? I shove someone aside. They swear at me. “Sorry,” I say, not looking back.

Five yards away. “Patrick, what the fuck!” I shout. “Leah!”

Now that I’m closer, I can see them better. Leah isnotenjoying this. She might not even be aware of what he’s doing. She’s limp in his arms. Her eyes are open, but she looks confused and out of it.

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