I suppose I didn’t technically ask a question that required more than a yes or no answer, but still.
“We have a few mansions scattered throughout the area that we use,” Aria continues, her heels clattering on the tiles as she moves through an archway, toward what appears to be a dining room. “All of them belong to members of the Paragons of Prosperity, though they remain abandoned, only to be used for our events.”
“Events,” I repeat numbly, thinking of the last couple of “events” I attended.
The first one, where Senator Reece was forced to fight to the death against another unwilling victim.
The second one, where Dana and Dustin were murdered, mutilated, then displayed like a macabre display of art.
What will this “event” have?
Shudders of revulsion ripple down my spine, and I instinctively step closer to Dominic, who’s to the right of me. One of his arms comes around my shoulders, heavy and protective.
“We constantly have to move from place to place, though my favorite is the mansion we visited last night. I actually stay there when I’m not at my bungalow,” Aria continues as she passes the dining room and into the kitchen. There are dozens and dozens of employees here, all preparing food and prepping drinks.
None of them are wearing their masks, though I know that’ll change the second the guests arrive.
I notice Zane glaring at an unfamiliar man with a bulging belly and receding hairline. As I watch, the stranger barks out orders at one of the women, who cringes but begins to chop faster.
I sidle away from Dom to step up to Zane. “What is it?”
“Just finalizing my murder list,” he whispers back. “Don’t worry about it.”
Is it strange that I’m not worried about Zane’s murder list?
Anyone who’s on it probably deserves death—or worse.
“We have a few hours before the party begins, and we need to prepare,” Aria continues, breezing past the kitchen, down a hall, and into yet another room. “I require the staff to arrive six hours early, to prepare hors d’oeuvres and drinks. Security arrives two hours early. The guests should arrive promptly at eight o’clock.”
We appear to be in a study, similar to the one in the last mansion. I wonder if every mansion POP holds its parties in isrequired to have a room just like this—a place The Divine One can disappear to for a few hours.
“My job is setting up the entertainment for the night,” Aria continues, claiming the high-back chair behind the mahogany desk. “Normally, I’ll ask for…one of ourvolunteersto help, but I have something different planned for today.”
Her smile broadens, even as an icy, insidious feeling slithers through me.
I have a feeling that “volunteers” is the wrong word for the men and women she convinces to participate in these brutal games. No. More than likely, the entertainment Aria provides for the guests is none other than the people she kidnapped and trafficked—or bribed and coerced. Maybe some of them are bad, but I have a feeling the majority are innocent, thrust into this world they know little about.
Nausea churns in my gut, but like every other time I’ve confronted this evil bitch, I keep my expression blank. It’s something I wouldn’t have been able to do only a few months ago. My guys always said it was impossible for me to conceal my true feelings.
Now, it’s the only way to ensure my survival.
“I didn’t know that being the leader of the Paragons of Prosperity meant you were nothing more than a glorified party planner,” Dominic drawls, leaning against the back wall with his arms folded over his chest.
I try to rein in my snort, but it escapes anyway.
I didn’t realize it before now, but it’s true. I never thought about how much work and effort goes into all of POP’s parties and events. But someone has to do it.
Aria’s eyes narrow nearly imperceptibly, the only outward indication that Dom’s comment pissed her off. “I do a lot more than plan parties, boy.” She sniffs haughtily and folds her hands on the table.
“You also kidnap people, murder people, rape people, torture people…” Zane ticks off, counting each one on his fingers. “Did I forget anything?”
“Coerce people, bribe people, destroy people,” Beckett adds with a helpful smile.
“Very true, my dear old chap. Very true.” Zane adopts an over-the-top British accent that has Beckett’s smile flattening. He immediately hits Zane across the back of the head.
I know these moments of brief levity are for my benefit, so I smile softly, putting all my love and adoration into it.
Then I turn to face Aria, and my smile instantly fades. “So, what’s your plan for today?” I ask, already fearing the answer. “What is this so-called entertainment you have lined up?”
