Page 19 of Craving Danger

I can scream for help.

I’m safe.

Slowly, the panic lessens until it’s bearable, but then I’m struck with the thought that I must’ve looked a little crazy to Mr. Vitale.

Shit.

What do I say if he asks me about my odd behavior?

Dammit. I’ll just admit I was admiring his home and didn’t mean to invade his privacy. I’d rather have him berate me for snooping around than admit to him I panicked because I was surrounded by men.

Thank God I didn’t have a full-blown panic attack in front of my boss.

Checking the time on my wristwatch, I let out a groan. It’s already past six o’clock, and I barely have enough time to get ready for my appointment atParadiso.

I should cancel. I’m not in the right frame of mind to be alone with a man in a bedroom.

No! I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am. I’m not giving up. Come hell or high water, I’m going to see this through. I’m going to regain the control that was stolen from me so I can freaking date again. There’s no way I’m becoming a spinster with twenty cats.

Adamant to go through with my plans for tonight, I walk to my bathroom and take a quick shower.

When I’ve dried my body and lathered my skin with my favorite vanilla-scented lotions, I put on my light blue pants that I always feel pretty in and complete my outfit with a silver halter top and matching high heels.

Not bothering with too much makeup, I just swipe mascara onto my lashes and add a tint of pink to my lips.

Running out of time, I grab my handbag and rush out of my apartment.

During the subway ride to the heart of Manhattan, I remain determined to go through with my plans for tonight.

You’ll be safe. There are security cameras everywhere in the club.

The thought makes me wonder how people have sex knowing there’s an entire security team watching them.

Hey, maybe it’s a turn-on for them.

The moment I leave the subway and walk towardParadiso, my anxiety spikes.

I’m just going to spend an hour alone with a man in a bedroom. Nothing else will happen, and if the man tries something, the security guards will help me.

Nothing will go wrong.

Approaching the bouncer, I give him a nervous smile.

“Welcome, Miss Blakely,” he says as he unhooks the red rope so I can enter the club. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, and as I walk down the hallway, my stomach tightens into a painful knot.

I can do this.

I’m met by one of the staff members, and once again, the ski mask with the skull printed over the face sends a chill down my spine.

Why can’t they wear something less scary?

“Evening, Miss Blakely. Would you like to have a drink before I escort you to your room?” the same woman who welcomed me the other night asks.

“Definitely a drink first,” I say before chuckling nervously.

“This way.”

---