Page 26 of Tamed

“Fair enough. Angel then.”

Angel. I liked that. Though, it was Zara who looked like an angel, with her silver blonde hair and gray eyes. She was still wrapped very securely in her cloak.

“What are you wearing under that by the way?” I asked.

This time the look she directed at me was slightly wicked. “You’ll see.”

Huh.

Biting back my curiosity I settled back in the seat, this time allowing my excitement free rein. I wasn’t going to think about Caleb tonight, or Dad, or about any of the goddamn patriarchy currently ruining my life. I was going to have too many cocktails and flirt inappropriately and enjoy having my night of freedom.

A sudden idea struck me, and I pulled my phone from the purse and glanced down at my text messages, scrolling through them until I reached the one from the unknown number, the one that was likely to be a Hamilton. I quickly typedI’m definitely interested and I’m free tonight. Time and place. Let me know.

For a second, I stared down at the message, the beat of my heart getting faster, Caleb’s deep voice echoing in my head telling me stories about enemies and what they might do to me. Perhaps contacting the Hamiltons was a mistake. Perhaps I was being naive. Theywouldhave enemies and it wasn’t as if Dad and Caleb didn’t have any enemies themselves. I could be making this a thousand times worse for myself.

Then again, perhaps I’d finally learn about the mother who’d died having me.

The mother you killed.

It was a shocking thought. A terrible thought and one I never allowed myself. A creeping doubt I tried hard to ignore. I didn’t know the exact details of my birth because Dad had never bothered to tell me, but I knew she’d died having me.

She sacrificed her life for you, and you didn’t even know she was a Hamilton up until a couple of days ago.

Dammit. I wanted to know about her. I owed her that.

Before I could think better of it, I hit send then slipped my phone back into my purse.

There, that was done. It was in the lap of the gods now.

Pretty soon the Uber pulled up outside a stately brownstone on the Upper East side. I stared at it, all wrought iron balustrades and roses spilling through the palings. It looked like a Pre-War, three storied house not some secret sex club.

“This is it?” I muttered as Zara reached for the door handle to get out.

She only threw a mysterious smile over her shoulder then slid out of the car, going up the stairs to the door, the cloak she wore flapping open to reveal silver sandals with ties that crisscrossed up her calves.

I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, maybe something dark and seedy, with throbbing bass-heavy sounds and a line of people in front of the door wearing leather fetish gear. Or some neon-soaked Queens brothel or a flashy Vegas party palace.

I didn’t expect a multimillion-dollar house that looked like something Dad would own.

Zara had already pressed the button beside the discreet brass plaque withArcadiaengraved on it, and she glanced at me as I came to stand beside her.

“Ready?” she asked.

I took a deep breath, the excitement inside me tipping into nervousness then back again. “Yes,” I said. “Absolutely.”

She grinned and then the door swung open, a dark-haired man standing in the doorway. He was tall and handsome and wore an exquisitely tailored black suit. He smiled. “Miss Bishop, so lovely to have you here tonight.” He glanced at me. “And is this your guest?”

Zara nodded. “Yes, this is Angel.”

The man didn’t bat an eyelid at the ridiculous nickname. “Nice to meet you, Angel. Please come in. And welcome to Arcadia.”

We stepped inside, the door shutting with a heavy thunk behind us.

The entrance hallway was large and carpeted in dark, inky blue. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the high vaulted ceiling, sunlight from the last rays of the day catching in the crystal drops and sending prism glitters everywhere.

The walls were papered in crimson and the effect, with the carpeting, should have been a bit much, but it wasn’t. It was rich, dark. Luxurious.

Silence hung over the place, the kind of silence that only extreme amounts of money can buy.

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