Page 23 of Vicious Vows

Are you still under house arrest, too?

Nah. My mom hardly notices when I’m here. I’m at a friend’s house.

Jealousy knots my stomach. I’ve never been able to say that. Maybe my mother is right. Maybe I am pathetic.

I won’t hold you up then. Hopefully, we will see each other soon. And hopefully Life Finds a Way.

I hope she gets what I’m not saying. I’m almost out of pills, and I know I’m going to need them to get through the next few days.

Much like yesterday, my lunch is a small salad with no dressing. Dinner is the same, too. One fucking egg. I do eat the kale this time, ignoring how bitter it is. I finish and shove the tray aside. Fuck it. I’m getting out of here. I can’t believe I haven’t tried before. I mean, just because Odin said my midnight trips were a thing of the past doesn’t mean they really are. I’d be stupid not to try.

I glance at the clock. Everyone will be asleep in a few hours, and I know this building better than anyone else. Smiling, I go to my closet where I pick a black miniskirt and a black crop top with a deep-V neckline. As much as I want to wear heels, I know my feet will kill me before I get out of the penthouse, so I go with gold strappy sandals.

Tossing the clothes on my bed, I undress and pad to my bathroom. In the shower, I shave and then wash my hair and body. By the time I get out, I’m feeling excited. I take my time doing my make-up. It’s funny how make-up can change a person. My eyes are smoky, making me look super sexy, which I know I’m not. But I can pretend, right? I dry my hair and let it hang in natural waves.

Back in my room, I paint my toenails a deep shade of red. I really wish I could go to a spa and get a mani and pedi, but I’m sure that’ll be shot down, just like everything else has been. At nine o’clock I dress. There’s no way to wear a bra with the crop-top, which, again, makes me feel sexy. Fuck it. If I’m doing this, I’m going all the way. I carry the panties I was going to wear and put them back in the closet.

At ten, I slip on my sandals and grab my clutch, which has my ID, cash, and my phone. The house is silent as I open the front door. A guard stands near the elevator. Fuck. Softly, I close it. Plan B it is. Noiselessly, I make my way to the kitchen. No one is there, so I slip through, going to the service elevator. Inside, I push the button for the second floor. The elevator creaks and groans as it makes its way down. On the second floor, I step out and go right into the stairwell that leads to the basement.

Opening the door, I don’t see anyone, so I dart out, running up the ramp that leads to the street level. It’s so cold out here, but I don’t care. I did it! And the gods must be smiling down at me because a cab sits in front of the building. I hop into the back, closing the door behind me.

“Where to?”

“Do you know of any clubs that aren’t in this area?”

The driver is older, so he may not know of any. If he doesn’t, then I’ll be just as fine going to a bar.

He surprises me by saying, “My granddaughter was going on about a new club calledFrozen. Or maybe it wasIced.”

“Sure, that sounds great.”

He pulls away from the curb and I lean back, exhaling. I still can’t believe this worked.

Forty minutes later, the cab comes to a stop in front of a club calledIced. The line is long, which is worrisome. What if I don’t get in? After paying the driver, I climb out of the cab and go to the end of the line. Two women chat in front of me about how excited they are.

One says, “I hear they have a club promoter who walks the line and picks the hottest girls to let in. VIP treatment all the way.”

Her friend grins. “Well, you know we’re going to be picked! I mean, look at us!”

She’s not wrong. They’re stunning. Like, drop dead gorgeous. I tug at the back of my top, suddenly feeling embarrassed. What was I thinking? They can pull something like this off. I can’t. Maybe I should get out of here and just find a pub.

“Oh, look! I think that’s the club promoter!”

A man in a dark purple suit walks down the line. Sure enough, he points at a couple of girls, who giggle and make their way to the VIP entrance. He stops, touching his earpiece as if he’s listening. His gaze skirts down the line and he says something before moving our way.

“You.”

The girl in front of me titters. “Oh, thank you.”

“Not you. Her.”

He’s pointing at me. My face feels like it’s on fire. How in the hell did I get picked when these girls didn’t?

“Are you coming?”

I glance at the women. “I couldn’t possibly leave my friends behind.”

“Fine.”

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