“I have no clue.” I step toward him. “You have to let me down there. I have to see Ethan.”
He considers for a moment then shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Absolutely not. You’ve been enough trouble already.”
“Jenkins, please,” I plead. “I can’t stay up here. I didn’t know they were coming and that can’t be good. Let me down there.”
“No,” he says, and turns to leave again.
I leap forward and take his hand. He rears back, shocked, his face a mask of disgust and outrage.
“Please,” I say again. “You have to let me go down.”
“No, and kindly never touch me again.” He turns and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
I stare at the shut door, shocked and terrified.
The Syndicate said they’d never make contact with Ethan unless they absolutely had to. That was only meant to be a last and worst-case scenario. They’re supposed to discreetly check up on me and act invisible.
But if they’re here, something is wrong, something is very wrong. I can’t just stay in this room. I have to go down there.
I take a deep breath and then open the door, heading out into the hall. I march toward the stairs and head down, not slowing, and not taking no for an answer.
I’ll have a say in this, whatever it is. I can’t let this real thing slip through my fingers, not now, not when it’s so close.
21
Ethan
Lucille from The Syndicate sits across from me on the sofa, her back very straight. She sips from the cup of tea that Jenkins brought us on a tray.
Jenkins disappeared soon after I came back. I had to remind him to take dinner up to Aria, mostly just to get him out of the room. I don’t want him listening in on this conversation.
“I’m sorry to come here like this, Mr. Locks,” she says.
“Please, call me Ethan.” I frown at her. “I assume there’s a problem.”
She nods slowly. “There is a problem, Ethan. I’m very sorry about all this.”
“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for yet.”
She looks a little uncomfortable, but she’s hiding it well. Clearly she’s used to dealing with this sort of thing, but whatever she has to say she doesn’t like.
“It’s an, ah, unusual situation,” she says. “We don’t typically sell the girls for more than a couple weeks. One month is a long time.”
I shrug. “You agreed at the time.”
“You offered a lot of money.”
“And you took my money.” I lean toward her. “Are you regretting it?”
“Yes, we are,” she says. “Truth is, we shouldn’t have sold you Aria for a month. You’re a new client. There’s normally some kind of short-term trial period.”
I cross my arms and watch her for a moment, trying to read her. She looks back impassively, and I get the sense that she’s not telling me the full truth. They didn’t have any issue selling me Aria at the time when I offered them a lot of money. And there haven’t been any problems up to this point.
“Have I mistreated her?” I ask. “Has she complained?”
“No,” Lucille says, shaking her head. “Not at all.”
“Then you’ll excuse me if I’m trying to figure out what the hell you’re doing here.”
She looks a little surprised at my forceful tone, which was the point. I want to throw her off balance, make her actually tell me what’s going on here.
“We want her back, Ethan,” she says. “We’re willing to refund most of your money as compensation.”
“Fuck the money,” I say.
She frowns but continues. “Aria will be treated well, of course. She’ll get her payment. Maybe not as much as she would have, but still a generous amount. And we’re willing to offer you another girl to finish out your month-long contract at a very agreeable discount.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “So you’re willing to give me another girl, but I can’t have Aria?”
“That’s right,” she says. “Aria is new as well. She wasn’t prepared for this level of contract.”
“Aria is fine,” I say. “There’s no reason for you to take her back. We’ll finish the contract as we agreed.”
“I’m sorry, Ethan. But I’m not allowed to do that.”
“Listen, Lucille. I don’t know why you’re here. You’re giving me these vague excuses, and none of it adds up. You’re clearly lying, or at least you’re keeping something from me. So until you tell me why I should give her up, we’re done here.”
I move to stand and she sighs, holding up one hand, her eyes closed. I can tell she’s pained. She’s probably not supposed to tell me the real reason why The Syndicate wants Aria back.
It’s probably something embarrassing. The fact that Lucille is here at all is a breach of their decorum. They’re normally incredibly discreet and professional and apparently pride themselves on their efficiency. But sending Lucille here to gather up Aria and to break their contract seems like it’s very out of their character.
“Please, I’ll explain.” She looks at me with a frown on her face. “Please, sit.”
I slowly sit back down and lean toward her, elbows on my knees. “Go ahead,” I say.
“It’s her father,” Lucille admits with a sigh. “He found her. We’re not really sure how, but he’s a rich and powerful man in this city. He’s coming after us and we find it’s best if we simply return the girl to her home and move on.”
“Best for whom?” I ask, anger welling up inside of me.
“Best for everyone.”
“Not for her. Not for me.”
“Please, see reason here. The Syndicate can’t risk exposure. It would be... catastrophic. For everyone involved.”
Veiled threats and ass covering, that’s all she’s here to do. The bastards want to steal Aria away from me and to return her to her bastard father, the very man that she ran away from in the first place. I can’t imagine that her father actually wants her back, whoever he is.
There’s something else here, a piece of this puzzle that I can’t see. I don’t know what’s being held back, but I can sense it, just there, just out of my grasp.
“What’s his name?” I ask Lucille.
She pauses. “Who?”
“Her father. Who is he?”
“I can’t tell you.”
I feel a stab run down my veins. It’s a flash of insight that I only understand at a gut level. The idea isn’t even conscious yet, but I feel my blood turn to ice in my veins. Cold terror runs through me.
He’s a powerful man... the kind of man that would come after her if it suits him, not because he wants to... and her last name. I think back to that conversation that night.
My face drains of color. Lucille looks concerned. “Ethan? Mr. Locks? Are you okay?”
I grab my cup of tea and drink it down. It’s not strong enough, though. I stand and quickly walk into the kitchen where I pour myself a double whisky and slam it back.