Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 120995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
He smiled stiffly. “Will do. Now get in the car.”
I slid into the vehicle and held back the wobbliness of sadness and exhaustion as Selix slammed the door. That was what I liked about him. He was no-nonsense. He saw I was upset but didn’t take it upon himself to cajole or soothe.
His loyalties were to Elder, though I didn’t understand why as their bond bordered violence with a sprinkling of mutual respect.
At the start, I’d believed Selix was a servant loyal to his employer. That he was nothing more than paid help.
There was no way I thought that now.
Now, I believed Selix was there for his own purpose, and Elder would prefer them equals instead of the second-in-command role Selix preferred to play.
That’s all it is…a role.
A pantomime.
Just like Elder was playing the role as my protector.
He had his lines and delivery—following the script he wrote himself. However, I doubted abandoning me inside a prison while emotionally distraught was planned.
He must be hurting terribly.
I wish I was with him.
I wish he would let me help him.
Selix climbed into the driver’s seat, and, without a word, drove me to wherever I was meant to be.
* * * * *
The hotel room was opulent, but it wasn’t private.
As I entered the suite at some luxury establishment, I expected to have some time alone. Selix had checked me in and given me the keycard. He’d escorted me up in the elevator and left me to my own devices once I was safely deposited outside the room.
I’d happily accepted the reprieve. Readily looking forward to a bath, a nap, and perhaps some time to write a letter to No One.
My fingers itched to put my thoughts on paper after speaking them aloud for so long. Plus, the need to erase what I’d penned about my mother was the one thing keeping me going instead of collapsing into lethargy.
Yes, a note would help.
They always do…
As the door closed behind me and I entered the lounge, I froze.
Do I have the wrong room?
This one already had guests, and not one of them was Elder.
“Hello?” My voice sounded hollow to my ears. Mild shock that I’d spoken without thinking almost made me wish to be mute once again.
I didn’t want words.
I wanted letters.
I wanted No One.
I want Elder.
Living with trauma was a sneaky thing. Some days I was invincible—able to take on Elder and every obstacle in my path. And some days…some moments…those strengths vanished, leaving me shaking, panicking, and seeking all exits to flee.
This was one of those moments.
Backpedalling, all I saw were two women who weren’t invited, who I didn’t know, who could be part of any trafficking or racketeering scam.
“Get out.” I cursed the wobble in my tone.
A woman, with coiled brown hair and red lipstick, stood smartly from where she perched on the grey and navy couch in the window bay. “Ah, you’re finally here.” Clapping her hands, she summoned her friend to stand. They wore matching cream blouses with tailored black skirts and aprons with needles, tape, and chalk peeping from their front pockets.
“Who are you?” I grabbed a letter opener from the desk beside me, brandishing it. “What do you want?”
The women shared a look. The older of the two with ginger hair styled in a French twist held up her hands. “We’re not here to hurt you. You can put that down.”
“I’ll put it down when I know who you are.” I glanced behind me, eyeing the door. Selix had vanished into the room two doors down. If I was fast enough, I could run there before they could grab me. “Tell me. Right now.”
The older woman with ginger hair pointed at herself and then her friend, followed by the embroidered sigil on their matching breast pockets. “I’m Mel, and this is Nat. We’re from Social Art.”
“Social Art?” My hand grew slippery around my weapon. “What’s that?”
The red-lipsticked lady giggled. “Obviously someone didn’t pass on the message.”
When I gave her a blank look, she added, “We were hired by Mr. Prest to help you get ready for the masque.”
“Oh.”
A reply I could handle.
A response my flight or fight desires could accept.
Slowly, I put the letter opener down, my fingers creeping to my throat where prickling anxiety remained.
The masquerade.
I’d entirely forgotten about it.
All I wanted to do was rest. To somehow regroup from this afternoon and figure out what had happened to Elder. God, the thought of mingling with strangers…all of them wearing masks?
I gulped.
I can’t.
I wasn’t in the right headspace. If my ever-present fear had sprung up from two women, what would happen in a ballroom full of hundreds?
I had a better handle on my panic attacks, but what if one found me in the middle of a crowd? What if I collapsed and sobbed and screamed and Elder had to drag me away? I’d ruin his reputation and his meetings with whoever he planned to do business with.