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The room seems to expand around me. I’m playing the part and surveying the room filled with sex workers, but I’m seeing none of them. No, there’s only my Hailey with her inquisitive eyes and unruly mass of hair. Where are you, baby?
Fuck, it was a mistake coming here. My head is wrecked over losing the girl with the golden eyes. If I have to put my hands on anyone else, I’m going to get sick—and it’s not happening. I just need a few minutes to figure out a reasonable excuse to leave. “You know which one has the best skills,” I manage. “How about you choose for me, while I use your bathroom?”
There’s a tense moment between us, before Stepanov finally nods. “Very well.”
He points me in the right direction and I feel his eyes on me as I go, trying to be as casual as possible about locking myself in the bathroom just below the stairs.
Get it together, Mick.
Hailey
Mick is in my house.
I can’t believe it. What is he doing here? Is he crazy?
I didn’t save his life so he could put it right back in jeopardy.
When I saw him standing in the driveway talking to my father’s men, I couldn’t believe it. There was something different about him. Different clothes and mannerisms. I surmised last week that he’s been investigating my father, but now I’m seeing him in action. Undercover.
How far will he go to remain undercover?
Jealousy snakes into my belly thinking about the women I watched arrive earlier. Is Mick downstairs with one of them right now? Touching them with the same hands that touched me so perfectly just a week ago?
Chest heaving, I pick up a jar of paintbrushes and throw them across the room, the glass smashing against the wall. Not that anyone will hear with the music blaring downstairs. Right now, I don’t even think I would care if they could hear. Hot tears of frustration roll down my cheeks and I can’t stand still. I’m going to lose my mind, confined to this room while Mick does God knows what downstairs. I’ve dreamed of our stolen hour together non-stop since it happened, whispering the vows he made to me, even picturing him scaling the walls of my tower to rescue me.
I slap my hands over my eyes. No. No, I can’t stand this.
My head whips around toward the door. Just a peek. If I just take a quick glance of what Mick is doing downstairs, I’ll find out if he’s staying true to me. Or if he’s just a lying scumbag like everyone else my father associates with. Rationally, I know he’s a federal agent doing his job, but my heart doesn’t care. How dare he promise to protect me and kiss someone else a week later? How dare he? The fact that he’s been pacing his balcony like a miserable lion ever since the night we met means nothing to me right now. I want answers. I want out of this room!
Knowing I’m taking a huge risk, I creep toward the door anyway. I slide my twisted-up creation of flattened scrap metal out of my pocket, sliding it into the lock and jiggling, twisting. If my father sees me outside my room, there will be hell to pay, but I have to know what Mick is doing. There’s no choice. I bite my lip and ease the door open, the pitch-black hallway looming in front of me. At the end of the hall is another staircase leading down to the living area—and I tiptoe in that direction now, my nightshirt brushing the tops of my thighs. One peek. One tiny peek.
When I’ve reached the end of the hallway, I brace my hand on the wall and peer down the staircase—
Mick walks out of the bathroom and my knees lose power, a sound escaping my mouth. There’s no way he can hear me over the music, but…he turns to look directly at me anyway. Right. At me. And for one breathless moment, we stare at one another like two hungry souls reuniting. It doesn’t take long for my common sense to flood back in, though, sound and color roaring back.
Mick’s face transforms with possession. Need. Relief.
My heart goes bonkers, my feet begging to carry me down the stairs.
It can’t happen. We’re standing in my father’s house.
Oh this is bad. This is very bad.
I turn and sprint back down the hallway, but not before Mick comes after me, taking the stairs in giant lunges. “No!” I screech, skidding to a halt right before my bedroom door, turning with my hands out just in time for Mick to appear. “No. You have to go back downstairs. You never saw me. Please. Please. He’ll kill us.”
He drags his hands through his hair, turning in a circle. “Jesus, baby. Why didn’t you tell me? Is this why you left?” Something in him melts when I nod. “I thought I’d scared you.”
“You didn’t. You did the opposite.”
Footsteps coming up the stairs freeze the blood in my veins. I back slowly toward my bedroom door, my pulse pounding in my ears. But it’s too late, because there’s my father, rounding the corner and surveying the situation through narrowed eyes. To anyone else, he probably appears calm, but I see the rage. I know how closely it simmers beneath the surface. “Well,” he says, raising an eyebrow at Mick. “It appears you’ve made your choice for the evening.”
