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Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, my mind wanders, and I can’t help thinking I meant more to Travis than he let on. I would imagine him taking pity on me and helping me escape this hell, so I could go back to my old life. It’s stupid of me to think of such things, knowing I’m the low man on the totem pole, especially since he made it clear where his loyalties lie, which is with the success of this business.
Speaking of escaping from this place, I wish I knew where my father is and what he’s doing to get me out of this mess. I can’t lose hope. I have to believe he will find me, and if he does by chance know where I am, I’m sure he’s only biding his time, waiting to find a way in with guns a’ blazing. God only knows what Adam must be going through. My father has power, prestige, and the ability to hire an army on my behalf, but Adam is simply helpless. He’s just a sweet, simple young man with no resources and wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for me. Heck, he’s never even handled a firearm.
The music picks up in the background, bringing me back to the present. Some people are getting up to dance, and as they do, I recognize a few of them from my birthday party last week. Everyone here seems to have dates of their own this evening. It simply baffles my brain thinking about these women, who actually want to be drugged and want to be puppets on a string. I’m astounded as to why anyone would want to give up their freedom and be unquestionably subservient and passive slaves to morally corrupt men. If you love someone, why the hell would you want to drug them?
“Darling, you’ve been silent for a bit. Is that first glass of wine catching up with you, making you sleepy?” Nick asks, interrupting my thoughts.
I shake my head and turn toward Nick. “No, I was just noticing I recognized some of the women here tonight. How did they get dates?”
“They’re not dates, love. Those are their owners.” Oh, yes, of course, silly me, how did I overlook the obvious? This is a merchandising store, after all.
The look on my face must be all-telling, because Nick begins to chuckle. “Don’t look so shocked, Princess. These women are loved and wanted. They were bought at a high price and will be well taken care of. Some of these men not only paid top dollar, but they’ve uprooted their entire lives in order to make their dreams come true.”
What about the dreams of these women? This facility should be called the Fatal Attraction Country Club. “Did they ever hear of traditional dating?” I retort. Shit, I need to calm back down and let this go for now. I steal a deep breath while grabbing my wine glass and imbibe.
“You still have a little hell-cat in you, don’t you?” he asks amused, his lips twisting into a little smirk. “Let me ask you this. Would you have dated me when you didn’t know me?”
I shrug. “Truthfully? If I was single, most likely.” It’s the simple truth. I watch his index finger tap against his lips in thought.
“Once again, my love, you surprise me.”
I watch as Nick takes one last drink of his liquor, swallowing it in one gulp. As he sets the empty glass down on the table, he expels a gust of air from between his clenched teeth and makes a face as if the liquor has burned his throat. He then holds out his well-manicured hand, indicating for me to take it. “Come, let’s dance,” he gently demands.
I slip my hand in his and get up to follow him onto the dance floor. As I look around the large ballroom, everyone gives the impression they are truly enjoying themselves. The closer we get to the dance floor, the louder the music gets, but it’s not obnoxious. The volume still allows for quiet, intimate conversation at the surrounding tables.
I’m transfixed on a particular couple, who are gliding across the dance floor. They’ve got moves like they belong on “Dancing with the Stars.” She’s elegantly dressed, her sequins shimmering and sparkling under the lights. The consummate vision the couple created was breathtaking.
“Talented couple, aren’t they?” Nick asks softly into my ear with a deep, gravelly voice.
“Yes, very enchanting,” I agree. “I could just sit here and watch them dance all evening; they’re so elegant.”
“Not as elegant as you are,” he says in a husky whisper. Nick’s rich cologne surrounds me as he pulls me in close, wrapping his hands around my waist. Reflexively, my hands move to his chest, and my heart begins to speed up from his close proximity. His strong muscles flex under my palms, and the sensation has me confused. Why do I feel this way? Is it his prestige, power, and masculine GQ looks, which have me the envy of every female here tonight? No, I’m not that shallow. Maybe it’s the wine, in combination with him putting me on a pedestal, letting me out of my cage for the evening, and treating me like a princess.
