Page 42 of Savage Daddies

“This one looks good.”

“No, they’re standing closer together in this one.”

It’s the third comment between the two paparazzi members that pales Zoe’s face. She turns whiter than a fucking ghost, and darts toward the exit.

“Email this to the writer. It’s gonna sell like crazy.”

9

ZOE

I flyout of the doors and debate which way to run. Left is a swarm of people that already recognize my face, and right are more paparazzi. It’s always the same. They appear like an army fleet the second somebody reports my appearance.

I take a good photo, apparently, and I should see it as a compliment. That’s what Felix always says every time he notices me looking distressed.

Good thing he’s at home now. He’d probably be forcing me to pose and draw in even more attention—that’s more money for him.

But when does it ever go into my pocket?

I don’t need to see money, apparently. Just the result of it. One time, I asked Felix to set up a bank account for me, but he simply furrowed his brow and said, “You don’t need one. Just use mine.”

He does that so he can track my payments. Question anything suspicious. I rode the bus one time with Sammy after ditching the Ubers—the drivers used to report back to him—and he saw the bank transaction and slapped me across the face for “putting Sammy in danger.” He doesn’t care about Sammy, but it’s his go-to line because he knows the guilt will eat me alive for days.

Felix’s voice cuts like ice. Anything he says, you believe. My expertise is in travel and tourism, not psychology, so I don’t know logistically how it all works. All I know is that he has a talent for using weakness against you.

Mine being Sammy and Fiona, my darling younger sister who still lives with Father.

He banned me from seeing her after the bus incident.

With nowhere to go, I slip back into the casino and dip my head. The bikers are nowhere to be seen. I should be pissed at them for breaking into Felix’s property, but I’m honestly kinda glad. Were they actually concerned for my safety?

I don’t know why. They’ve only known me for a day.

I smooth back fallen pieces of hair and return them to the claw clip. People turn from their games to look at me. My appearance prompts chatter that I can’t hear. Probably for the best—the public love a conspiracy.

But this is different.

These three bikers are the only shot I have at freedom. As soon as the media plaster their faces all over the web and caption the image with something untrue, it’s game over. Back to square one.

“Mr. Reeves!” I flag him over before I realize what I’m doing.

Reality catching up with me, I freeze. Force my brain to think fast before he gets too close. Paparazzi will take another photo, and this one will be worse. Somebody will recognize him as an ex-teacher from Top Hill High School. That will trigger rumors, and then Felix will see that he spends the rest of his life behind bars.

“In here.”

We scurry into a high-limit room and draw the blinds.

“This looks even more suspicious,” Mr. Reeves turns to me and says.

In walk the other two from God knows where.

Why is it that they come as a package deal? Is that a biker thing? They must hunt in packs of three at all times? I wonder if they’re from the same club as the ones from the masquerade. Damn, if only they had told me their names.

My temperature rises, and the intense internal body heat sticks in my throat. I can’t breathe. Fuck, I could look at them forever. It’s Teagan’s fault for hosting a birthday masquerade and allowing in three silver foxes. That’s when my obsession for mature guys began.

Felix is mature, sure, but he’s nothing to look at.

Nothing compared to these three.

---