Moving behind a gay couple with bulging arms and legs, I pull out my phone to dial. Except the battery’s down to nothing.Damn it.I could have sworn I charged it before leaving the room. Scowling, I put it away. No calling for help tonight.
I walk a few blocks, and then see a tall, bald man in a black suit in the crowd.Is that the asshole who dragged me to the bathroom?He swivels his nonexistent neck left and right.
Shit.I turn around and start moving toward a brightly lit building to my left. Every nerve bristles with apprehension. How much of the alarm I’m feeling is real and how much is from the drugs? I don’t want to move too quickly in order not to get spotted, but then the goon sees me. Being as tall as I am makes it hard to blend in to a crowd. I pick up the pace, but the goon increases his speed as well.
It seems like a futile effort. Frustration swells in my chest. Why the hell didn’t the family ensure nobody associated with the Dunkels could get near me?
My eyes refuse to focus properly, but I’m close enough to see that the place I’ve been walking toward is a casino. I start to push the door open, and a cool hand closes around my wrist.
Chapter Six
Lareina
This must be how Jerry felt, running and hiding from Tom, I decide, thinking about one of my favorite cartoons. After leaving Ares, I’ve been walking around, entering and leaving various stores and casinos. Since I only have a limited amount of money, I haven’t bought anything except for a bottle of water and a big, floppy hat with two mini-sunflowers on one side.
Doris, Vernon, Rupert and their men are looking for me. Every time I spot one of them, dread slashes at my gut. They don’t seem to recognize me—maybe it’s the loose hair or maybe it’s the hat. I also ripped off the sleeves of my dress and the two outer layers of the skirt, so it’s as limp as old lettuce, rather than the poufy dandelion puff it started out as. I considered buying a set of new clothes until I realized I’d have to ask somebody to help me out of the dress, and didn’t want anybody to see my scar.
Still, it’s only a matter of time. They’re determined to find me and force me to marry Rupert. I hadn’t really thought things through when I fled the room. I need to do more than just run; I need to permanently stop them. The only way to do that is to get a husband of my own choosing who won’t throw me under the bus for my aunt.
Why didn’t I realize this sooner? Then I could’ve asked Ares if he wouldn’t mind being a husband in name only for at least six months. I could’ve offered to reward him handsomely for it, too.
Yes, he’s a stranger and I don’t know anything about him. But he helped me without asking questions or demanding compensation, which was surprising. In my experience, people don’t lift a finger to assist unless there’s something profitable in it for them. Someone like Ares is likely altruistic and trustworthy, at least enough that I could trust him for a few months until I’m safely in control of my inheritance.
My grandfather despised Doris and did everything in his power to ensure she couldn’t touch the inheritance or kill me. Her bad-mouthing her brother—my dad—and mismanaging a small subsidiary he put her in charge of didn’t help. Grandfather loathed menandwomen who overestimated themselves. He told me that as soon as I was married or came of age, I needed to get a lawyer specializing in tax, estate planning and other financial matters and ensure that Doris and her family couldn’t leech off me.
How and where can I find a suitable groom?I look at the crowd milling on the night streets of Vegas. Couples, more couples, groups of women…a few guys who could be single, but I don’t like that they look like they just finished high school. Some Elvis impersonators. Should I hire one of them to be my fake husband?
And is a fake husband going to be enough? Won’t Doris check? I would if I were her. What if she tries to invalidate my marriage? I know nothing about the legal requirements for marriage in the States.
Argh.So irritating.
I wish I’d somehow found a way to keep in touch with Ethan. He’s in the States, and it’s possible he lives in Vegas. If he’s single, he could help. Or maybe he could refer me to a single friend who isn’t a greedy sociopath. Ethan seemed like such a nice guy. Smart, too. Knew a lot about art. And saying hisfavorite artist was my mom during our first-day introductions endeared him to me.
It’s sad that he’s one of my closest friends and I’ve never even met him in person.
Then I seehim—Ares! And he’s coming toward me! He’s walking a bit unsteadily—maybe had too much to drink? He’s looking around, squinting under the neon lights, then flinches when his eyes land on a guy several feet behind him. The man starts after him, but Ares also begins walking faster.
Is he in trouble? The man is coming up quickly. I trot to Ares, spreading my arms as though to hug him. As curious I am about what’s going on, I want to help him first. That’s the least I owe him for his act of kindness earlier.
But before I can reach him, he makes a small turn and starts to push the door of a casino to his left. Acting on instinct, I grab his wrist. His whole body stiffens, his bright blue eyes boring into mine with the ferocity of a cornered lion. Shivers skitter along my spine, and my mouth dries. This isn’t the kind of reaction I expected.
The reflection of Ares’s pursuer grows closer in the glass door. First things first: time to rescue Ares.
I paste on a bright smile. “Hey, baby, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” I twirl in my dress. “Like my wedding gown?”
Recognition flickers in Ares’s wide eyes. “Lareina?” he says, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”
“Getting the perfect wedding gown!” It’s an easy lie, and the truth would definitely attract nosy eavesdroppers.
The stalker is still coming toward us, but looks a bit uncertain now. Ares’s eyes flick to the glass door too, and his mouth tightens. I have no clue who the creep is, but Ares obviously wants to lose him, and there are certain distractions that make people look away. Like a fairly intense public display of affection.
Smiling, I put my hands on Ares’s cheeks, feeling the day’s growth of beard scratching my palms. He looks down at me in confusion, but I give him no time to ask questions before I pull him down for a kiss.
The sacrifices I make to keep him safe.
I’ve experienced a kiss before, when Rupert ambushed me on my sixteenth birthday. All I remember of that appalling incident is that his breath held a hint of onion and Tic Tac, and his mouth was wet, slimy and slightly cool. His tongue didn’t feel any better as he shoved it between my teeth like a squirmy salamander.
Ares’s large hand supports my back out of reflex, the touch hotter than a brand and inexplicably delicious. The hard muscles of his chest and legs press against me, cradling me. My heart rate picks up and starts to race. A wild cocktail of anticipation and jitteriness pulses in my veins. He smells so good—something spicy and woodsy and safe and exciting, all at the same time. Butterflies fluttering in my belly, I brush my mouth against his. His lips are surprisingly soft and hot. Searing tension winds around my gut, an illicit thrill sparking along my back. Goosebumps rise on my arms, and I slide them upward until they’re looped around his strong neck.
