"Lydia has been filling my closet with clothes more appropriate for pleasing my husband," I whispered. "Is there something wrong with it?" The dark and fitted dress hugged what I had for curves, extending down past my knees except for the slit up the thigh.
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, muttering to himself before grimacing and shaking his head. "Nope. Great, let's go," he said, turning to stroll down the hallway for the stairs.
"Wait, we're just going to walk out the front door?" I asked.
"Yes, hurry up or we'll miss our window," he grunted, taking my hand in his and hurrying me down the stairs. One of my father's security stood there, facing the wall on the opposite side and diligently pretending he didn't see us as we pulled the doors open and stepped outside.
"What about my father?" I asked.
"Gone to the stables for the night. They brought in a couple girls from New York, so he'll be occupied until morning," Christian said as he shoved me into the backseat of the waiting car. He climbed in beside me, tapping the back of the headrest and signaling the driver to make his way down the driveway as I fought back the surge of sickness at the thought of my father being occupied with the escorts.
"What about Lydia?" I asked. "If she wakes up and notices I'm gone, this will all be for nothing."
"Sleeping pill in her wine. No one will notice you're gone as long as you get back before morning. We should be safely back on the property by 4 a.m. Understood?" he asked, nodding to my watch. "Can you set an alarm on that thing?"
I took my phone from my bag, setting an alarm for three in the morning just to be safe as the driver made his way down the road. Without a single glance toward the backseat, he seemed determined to pretend he hadn't seen me. As if I wasn't in his car, and he wasn't defying my father's very strict orders that I be kept at the house with very few exceptions.
Namely, when he or my step-mother accompanied me to required outings.
We pulled up to a hotel in the center of the city, and I changed out my flats for heels quickly before allowing Christian to pull me from the car. "Aren't we too close?"
"We can't go too far if we want to get you home in time. Nobody will recognize you here. I've cleared the guest list, and aside from you only hotel patrons will be allowed tonight. It may limit your..." He swallowed down his distaste, finishing with, "options, but it will keep you alive."
I nodded, biting my lip hesitantly before lunging at him for a quick hug. "Thank you," I mumbled.
"Don't thank me just yet," he said, his voice catching with emotion. "Just be safe, yeah?"
"Of course," I said, watching as he got back into the car and waited. Turning and striding into the hotel, I made my way to the elevators to go to the rooftop bar. With my heart in my throat, I almost couldn't hear the dull thrum of the elevator music. The numbers on the panel rose one by one, lighting up as if counting down my last chance to change my mind.
There would be no backing out for me, not if I wanted to be able to look myself in the mirror come morning.
Having an adventure meant taking risks. I would just have to do whatever it took to make sure that I was the only one who paid the price for what I would do.
As the elevator doors opened, the steady thrum of jazz filled the night air. Stars twinkled vaguely overhead, drowned out even on the rooftop by the light pollution of the city. Deciding to make my way to the center of the space, I headed straight for the bar with my nerves threatening to tear me in two. The bartender’s eyes met mine briefly as I approached, and she smirked once before she went back to her work and poured white wine.
I sat on a stool, curling my hand around the glass of wine that landed in front of me. "I didn't order this," I said, pushing it back toward her with a shy smile.
"It's on the house, honey. I know when a woman just needs a fucking drink every now and then," she said.
"Is it that obvious?" I asked, raising the glass to my lips and taking a sip. The bitterness of the liquid caught me by surprise, coating my tongue in a dry flavor that wasn't entirely pleasant.
"Not a fan of wine?" she asked with a chuckle, and I shook my head shyly.
"Not a drinker of anything, to be honest," I said, forcing down another sip. I knew people swore by the way alcohol made them relax, and if anyone needed that tonight? It was me. I was about to lose my virginity to a stranger and risk certain death if I was caught.
"You should be careful of your surroundings if you aren't used to drinking, Little One," a male voice said behind me. I spun in the stool, the name that poured off his lips nearly making me stumble to the floor with the suddenness of the movement. My eyes landed on his the moment he reached out his hands to catch me around the waist, stabilizing me so I didn't tumble to the floor. His hands seared me through the fabric of my dress, an inescapable heat that seemed to sink beneath the surface of my flesh and dig straight into the core of who I was.
"Sorry," I mumbled, sliding my ass further onto the stool. His hands never left my waist, one of his thighs tucked between my knees ever so slightly. Still his gaze stayed focused on mine. Not on the heaving of my breasts as they shoved higher with each lungful of air I sucked back in my nervousness.
"Exactly how much have you had to drink?" he asked, his lips cocking to the side with the barest hint of a smile. Those stunning metallic eyes shone down at me, making my heart race in my chest. While I had no doubt that they were blue or some other enviable color, I couldn't help but be reminded of the silver of Calix's eyes.
Of his boyishly handsome face as he made me believe that someone in the world cared about me.
"It wasn't that," I admitted with a flush as I tore my eyes from his. My hand slid down the fabric of his suit jacket, clasping his forearm in my grip. I started to grip him so that I could push away his touch, but stopped at the last moment with a twist of my lips. "Nobody has called me Little One in a very long time. You surprised me, is all."
"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully, grasping the stool next to me in one of his hands. He tugged it closer, settling on the seat and enclosing my legs inside his until I felt trapped. But the movement didn't fill me with fear as I might have expected, only serving to give me the sense that he would protect me from whatever dangers might be lurking around the room.
I took another sip of wine to steady myself, wondering how on earth women understood the rules of picking up a man. He might have been interested, but he also could have merely acted out of interest in being gentlemanly and keeping me from making a foolish mistake.
Perhaps he simply saw through the bravado I'd tried to don the moment I walked into the bar.
"So not Little One, then," he murmured, and something inside my chest eased. I wouldn't have been able to go to bed with a man who called me the same pet name as Calix. It would have felt like a betrayal to all that he'd meant to me once upon a time. "So what should I call you?"
I wrinkled my nose, running my finger over the base of my wine glass to calm the fidgeting that wanted to make me squirm in my seat. "Nothing," I said softly. "No names."
He raised his brows at me, huffing out a light, shocked laugh. He paused for a moment, studying my face as he tried to understand my motivation. I knew it must have seemed ridiculous not to give someone even my first name, but I needed to stay detached.