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Hell, and to think, just a couple of days ago, I was contemplating participating. And now I couldn’t even cross the entrance without feeling hot and cold and completely out of my depth.
Where was my old self-confidence? And would I ever get it back?
I’d felt safe with Alex. Had no problems trusting him. But this?
The woman patted me down and even looked inside my purse while Leather-vest did the same with Frank.
After they’d finished, Frank slung his arm around my waist, and Leather-vest led us straight to a door that appeared in the wall out of nowhere.
Holy shit. Marble floors and secret doors. “How much did you pay for us to be here?” I murmured so only Frank could hear me.
Frank chuckled. “Money is never an issue.”
I sighed. Money might not be an issue.
But freedom and the right of self-determination was. Those were the real issues.
And to get that, you needed the funds.
And as pissed as my Dad had been on the phone, him trying to control me would probably mean he would try to cut me off just to pressure me to fall in line.
Would Alex use the same tactics? Use whatever means necessary to wield his control? I’d never even thought about that before. Was Alex actually that different from my father?
Frank led me down a dark hallway, illuminated only by sconces that were strategically placed far enough apart to create an edgy atmosphere of lights and shadows.
The farther we went, the louder the unmistakable bass and melody of Short Change Hero by The Heavy engulfed us.
For a moment, I was surprised to hear an old and not very popular—but one of my favorite—songs in such a random place.
When we came to the end of the hallway, it opened up into a big room full of writhing bodies.
I stopped in my tracks.
The darkness, the sounds of sex and impact play, mixed with the faint smell of sex and sweat, the moaning, the beat of the music, and my own discomfort teleported me back.
My breathing escalated until Frank grabbed my arm in a bruising grip. “Your phone, Fee.”
Only then did I hear and feel my phone. I pulled it out.
Sophie.
I denied the call, only to see I had three missed calls and a couple of unread messages.
I opened the app, read one after the other, then froze.
He’s on his way, and he’s livid. Brace yourself.
And there was only one “he” who would even care I was here.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ishifted gears and took the corner harder than necessary, acid burning in my stomach while all I could see before my inner eye were the photos Cristo sent Gabe—alongside the three big, fat question marks after the question of the millennium: What is Fiona doing in front of Sanctum with Franco Moretti?
As if it wasn’t betrayal enough for her to meet with Moretti—but what the fuck were they doing visiting a sex club—our club…my fucking club?
I gritted my teeth, then took another corner too fast. In the rearview mirror, I could see Matt on his motorcycle closing in on us.
“She’s smiling in the picture, Alex,” Gabe said, staring at his screen and the pictures Fee sent Sophie less than fifteen minutes ago.
