Page 81 of Elicit (Decadence After Dark)

And it hasn’t been right for days now. The climate of the house is off. Tense.

Jett is hovering more.

Kayne is grumpier than usual.

And their new house guest has done nothing but put us all on edge. Especially Jenna. He seems to be fixated on her. She’s the only one he requests, and every time he does, we end up hiding out in a nook in the library so she can lick her wounds. I beg her to stop going to him, but she just keeps insisting that it’s her job. She should be able to handle it. I don’t know what she’s trying to prove. And I don’t know why Jett won’t intervene. But I’m close to taking matters into my own hands. I can’t just stand by and watch someone I care about be hurt the same way I was. Not when she has a choice.

Jenna doesn’t seem to understand just how important free will is. And I don’t want her to learn that lesson the hard way. After it’s already been taken away.

I heard a woman screaming a few nights ago, and after interrogating each and every one, the girls swear it wasn’t them. I badgered Jenna the hardest, but those big green, innocent eyes have me believing it wasn’t her. When I asked Jett about it, he shrugged it off, claiming he had no idea what I was talking about. But I heard it. Loud and clear, and I swear she was screaming Kayne’s name.

I know I shouldn’t stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but my instincts are clamoring. Something isn’t right, and I have to find out what it is.

So I’ve been stalking Jett, following him around the house as stealthily as possible. If there’s one thing I learned from my father, it’s how to sneak around. I was his biggest secret, and he knew how to keep it that way.

For the last two days, Jett has been disappearing into an obscure client room on the third floor several times a day. It’s located on the far end of Mansion, removed from busy foot traffic. I watch from a distance in the long, dark hallway with purple carpet and hand-blown chandeliers as he unlocks the door and slips quietly inside. My curiosity has gotten the best of me, so I boldly tiptoe up to the door and press my ear against it. What’s in there? I have to know.

The wood is thick. Solid, so I can barely hear a thing. But I’m determined to prove my suspicions right. Something is very wrong.

There are muffled voices, of that I’m sure. And one definitely sounds like a female’s. I listen for a while, desperate to make out anything I can of their conversation. It’s futile, though. The oak is just too damn thick. Stupid old house. Just as I’m about to give up, the hinges squeak and I come face to face with a startled, and frankly peeved, Jett. I get a second-long glance into the room before he slams the door.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hisses.

“Snooping. What do you think you’re doing? Who is that? Why is she in there? Is it a new girl? Is that who was screaming the other night?” Jett slaps his hand over my mouth and pushes me up against the wall.

“Shhhh . . . She’s no one.” My eyes widen. I know all too well what that means.

Jett removes his hand after a few heated, pulse-pounding moments. Every organ in my body droops with disappointment.

“Tell me what’s going on.” It’s not a request, it’s a demand.

“What’s going on has nothing to do with you.” It’s the first time Jett has ever honest and truly chastised me. The reprimand stings, but it doesn’t dissuade me.

“If there is a girl being held against her will in there, it has everything to do with me.”

Jett exhales restlessly. “London.” His tone is firm but soft.

“Jett, tell me. Things aren’t right. They haven’t been right for days. I thought it was just me after everything that happened, but it’s not. You’re tense, Kayne is tense, and look at what’s happening with Jenna. Everything feels like it’s unraveling.”

“It’s not unraveling. At least not yet,” he cryptically testifies.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” he doesn’t clarify.

“Who’s in there?” I press again. I have to know.

Jett stares me down, conflicted. A war of contention battling in his blue-green eyes.

“She’s Kayne’s,” he finally discloses.

“What?”

“She belongs to Kayne,” he reiterates slowly, to aid in my comprehension.

Realization hits me in the face like a sucker punch.

“She’s a slave?” My voice elevates three octaves.

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