Chapter Three
DURING THE LATTER part of my rebellious phase, I’d learned how to steal things—lip gloss, wallets. Kristy could even swipe cell phones. By the time I made it through the busy lobby and into the staff-only kitchens, I had myself a fancy new wallet and a security pass so I could get out of locked exits without setting off alarms. All in all, I thought I was doing pretty well—until a beefy security guard saw me. I tried to run, but without shoes I just ended up sliding on a spill of some kind of food sauce. He caught me by the arm, his grip bruising.
I kicked his shin, but that only made him angrier. He snarled at me and shouted into his walkie-talkie for backup. Backup would inevitably call the cops, who I would be kind of relieved to see. Except that the men who brought me here would find out what I’d done—and they would know exactly where to find me.
Look, hon. It won’t be that bad. I’ll take the rough ones for myself, and—
Even if these people couldn’t get to me in a police precinct or a hospital, they could definitely get to me when I got home. And now they’d know I’d messed up their party. They’d think I owed them even more than my father already did.
Shit. I couldn’t see a way out of this.
Then I turned and saw someone running up to me—the woman who’d called herself my fairy godmother. Relief filled me because I doubted she was coming after me just to insult me again. I needed help, and for whatever twisted reason, she had decided to give it to me.
“There you are,” she said, and the guy holding me immediately froze.
He checked her out—of course he did. She was a bombshell blonde, one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen in real life. And judging from the way this guy’s jaw dropped, his too. The asshole had had no trouble hauling me up against him, but he wouldn’t touch her that way.
“Ella,” she said in a chiding tone. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
I had no idea who Ella was, but I was going along with whatever game she was playing. She was one of the only people I’d seen in the past week who wasn’t manhandling me or trying to rape me.
“You know Daddy doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” she added as if I knew who that was either.
It seemed to be the magic trick, though, because the guy released me. I suppose that, between her looks and confidence, it seemed like he should defer to her.
“She dropped this,” he said, picking up the black leather wallet that had fallen from my grasp. Damn it. I needed that money to get home, to get safe. Walking out into downtown dressed like this with no money was asking for trouble—as much trouble as I’d had in the penthouse or even worse.
“I assumed it wasn’t hers,” he added, sounding a little nervous now. Because if it was mine, and if I was rich and powerful—or at least part of a rich and powerful family—he might be screwed.
The woman sighed. “Really, Ella? Wrecking the Mercedes wasn’t good enough? Now you have to steal something? Where’d you pick that up—the hotel restaurant?”
The lobby actually, but I assumed that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Apparently we were playing some kind of wicked-stepmother game to get away from this security guard. She wasn’t even that much older than me, but I guessed that worked for the game.
I crossed my arms, playing along. “Bet Daddy didn’t even notice I was gone.”
A flicker of amusement crossed her eyes, but at least she didn’t smile and ruin the charade.
“So, you know her?” the guard asked, appearing reluctant to give me up now that he’d caught me.
The woman sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. We’re family.”
Family. I knew she was just playing a role, the same way she’d played the sultry bisexual in the penthouse suite, but the word still pinged in my chest. I didn’t have a family. Just adoptive parents who had taken me in as a last resort, only to realize they could have a natural-born son after all. And then they were stuck with me.
Except I was supposed to be playing a role here too, and unlike the penthouse, I wasn’t planning on slugging her a second time. “You’re not my real mom,” I shouted because that sounded like something a teenager would say to her only slightly older, gorgeous stepmother.
“But you’re stuck with me, darling,” she said, her voice dripping with venom.
The man was clearly uncomfortable around feminine bickering. He shifted, almost releasing me. Almost. “Right. Well. I don’t want to get involved with a domestic dispute.”
“Oh no,” she said. “It’s too late for that. She stole something. Isn’t that like, a felony?”
Damn, she was good.
The guy opened the wallet, revealing a stack of twenties. “I don’t know. It looks like it’s all here. No harm, no foul, I say.”
I smirked, because after the hellish week I’d had, this was actually almost fun. “Guess not every old guy falls for your fake boobs.”
A horrified expression crossed her face, and she clasped her breasts. Breasts that were probably not fake. “They’re not—” She broke off with a glare, then turned to the man. “You can’t just let her go. Call the police. She needs to be locked up. She’s horrible!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, and I knew then that she had solidified our exit by insisting I get in trouble. She definitely knew how to work men to her advantage; I’d give her that much.
We’d be able to leave with no suspicion now. If this story ever got passed on, it would be told about two rich brats the security guard would like to fuck. But considering he would probably pocket the money in the wallet, the story most likely wouldn’t get told at all.
As if confirming that, he added, “It’s hotel policy not to involve the authorities unless there’s been property damage, and since I’ve recovered the wallet, I’m afraid I’m going to have to release her into your custody.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m telling Daddy. He’ll cut you off.”
I almost stuck out my tongue. “Bite me, Mother.”
Apparently that was our cue to leave, because she grabbed my arm and we hightailed it into a hallway leading away from the kitchen. She glanced back, and the guy must have been leaving us alone, because we made it into a hallway.
“You little brat,” she said more mildly—and not entirely part of the charade. “I can’t believe you hit me. I was helping you.”
Helping? I snorted. “Yeah, helping me whore myself. No thanks.”
She seemed startled, a little taken aback. I wondered if I had actually hurt her feelings. I would have said sorry, but she spoke first. “Jail won’t be any better for you, sweetheart. Not if Henri’s pissed, and he will be once he hears you bailed on the VIPs.”
I had no idea who Henri was, but unlike the fictitious Daddy, it seemed Henri was a real person who was calling the shots. Was he one of the men who had dragged me out of the club, one of the men who’d taunted me when I was chained to the pipes in the bathroom? Or was he someone higher up, the true person my father had accrued all that gambling debt to—the one who had wanted fifty dollars a hole.
Either way, he wasn’t a man I wanted to meet again.
After a moment of walking in silence, she asked, “Are you at least going to tell me your name now?”
It’s Claire. Please help me. Someone help me, want me, love me. I want to be part of a family.
I want to feel safe.
I didn’t say any of that. Instead I straightened my spine and lifted my chin, struggling for some of the confidence she seemed to wear with ease. “I’m Polly-fucking-anna,” I said instead. “Pleased to meet you.”
She sighed. “Fine, don’t tell me. I’m calling you Ella.”
Great, she had named me. Like a pet.
I pulled my arm away. “Whatever you want.”
“Sweetheart, if you’d said that twenty minutes ago, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
If I’d said that twenty minutes ago, I’d have been torn apart by a group of stockbrokers.
“What’s keeping you?” I wasn’t sure I would have ever recovered from that. I shivered, chilled just by the possibility. “Leave already. I don’t give a shit.”
“Come on,” she said with a thin thread of patience. “We need to get you out of here before Henri shows up.”
I winced at the mention of that name again. Henri. How could I trust her? If she worked for him, she would have incentive to rein me in. Maybe she would even get a bonus. “I’m not going with you.”
“We don’t have time for this,” she said. “Let’s go.”
She seemed sincere, but in the past week I had learned not to trust anything or anyone. “Why, so you can take me to him?”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
Then she shook her head, something world-weary and devastated in her expression. “The truth is, I’ve been thinking of getting out myself. Well, now I’m out. Maybe you did me a favor, kid.”
“I’m not a kid.” Not after what I’d seen in that penthouse. And I seriously doubted getting out would be as simple as walking away. “And isn’t he going to be angry at you too?”
“‘Favor’ may have been too strong a word,” she admitted. “I’m going to try to keep you safe.”
“Try?” It didn’t inspire much confidence. Then again it was the best offer I’d gotten in a while. Even my adoptive mother and father couldn’t have cared too much about what happened to me—if they had paid their debt, I would have been free.
She met my eyes, her gaze steady and sure. “I can promise you this: you’ll be as safe as I am. Now, how the hell do we get out of here?”
There was a maze of doors, all with little black plastic rectangles beside them that required security clearance to get through. At least I hadn’t dropped the security card I’d swiped, unlike the wallet. I held it up. “Got it covered.”