Page 14 of Her Cruel Empire
He stops abruptly and turns. For a moment I think he might help me like a gentleman, offer his arm, but instead he bends downand simply scoops me up, throwing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.
“Hey!” I protest, pounding my fists against his back. “Put me down!”
He ignores me completely, carrying me through the casino and out into the Vegas night. The neon lights blur past as he strides down the sidewalk, and I’m getting dizzy hanging upside down, the blood rushing to my head.
“Please,” I try again, but he just adjusts his grip and keeps walking. We turn into a dark alley between two buildings, and panic floods my system. This is it. This is where he kills me and dumps my body. I start struggling harder, trying to kick free, but his grip doesn’t budge.
“Let me go!Help!” I scream, but the alley is empty and the casino noise drowns out my voice.
But then we emerge from the other side of the alley into another busy street, and I stop screaming in surprise. The giant stops beside a long black limousine with tinted windows. The door opens from the inside, and he deposits me onto soft leather seats before I can even process what’s happening, then sets my phone down on the seat next to me.
I grab it and scramble backward, ready to bolt for the door, when a familiar voice stops me cold.
“Hello. Shirley, wasn’t it?”
My mouth falls open. Sitting across from me in an elegant black suit, legs crossed and perfectly composed, is the woman from the bar. The one who flirted with me last night. The one who made my heart race and my cheeks burn.
“You?” I squeak.
She smiles, and it’s the same cat-that-got-the-cream expression that fascinated me before.
“Surprise.”
The giant slides into the front seat next to the driver and the partition goes up, giving us privacy. The woman pours out two vodkas from little bottles in the fridge set into the door as the limousine glides away from the curb and into traffic.
“You look as though you could use this,” she says, offering me a glass.
I take the tumbler with trembling hands, not sure if I should drink it or throw it at her and try to make my escape. “I don’t understand.Youbought me?”
“I did.” She sips her drink slowly, savoring it like we’re at a cocktail party instead of in the aftermath of a human auction. “One million dollars. Quite the investment.”
“But…why?” The question comes out as barely a whisper.
She studies me over the rim of her glass, those amber eyes unreadable. “Perhaps I have a fondness for beautiful things. Or perhaps I simply didn’t like the alternatives you faced in that room.”
I think of the shark-eyed man and shudder. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “I think.”
The woman laughs, a sound like dark silk. “Don’t thank me yet.”
My stomach drops.
“Thirty days,” she goes on, settling back against the leather seat. “That was the arrangement the Gattos made, wasn’t it? Thirty days of…companionship. What do you think that might entail?”
The way she says the word makes heat flood my cheeks. “I thought—I mean, the Gattos said it was just—you know…partying.”
“Partying?” Her smile broadens. “Oh, Shirley. Please tell me you’re not that naive.”
I am, though. I absolutely am that naive. “I guess I didn’t really think it through,” I say slowly. That’s true enough. I was thinking about the money and trying not to think about what I’d have to do to get it. “And my name’s not Shirley. That’s just what Logan—the bartender—he calls me that. My real name is Robin. With an ‘i,’” I add, and then wish I hadn’t. I don’t think this woman cares much how I spell my name.
“Then why on earth did he call you Shirley?” she asks.
I sigh. “Because he says I’m as innocent as Shirley Temple. And I guess maybe he was right.”
She tips back her head and lets out a laugh. “Robin. A lovely name. It suits you, little bird. Do you have a passport?” she asks, changing the subject so abruptly it gives me whiplash.
“I—what? No. Why would I need?—”
“No matter.” She waves a dismissive hand. “We’ll just have to land in a private airfield. Much more convenient anyway.”
