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Paisley
ANDRE KEEPS ME close at his side as we wind deep into a building I’m already familiar with.
We’re back at the place we first met.
So much about it is exactly as I remember. The lighting. The almost perfumed scent lingering in the air. The buzz of energy that’s so palpable it makes my skin itch.
But while everything around me is the same, I feel completely different.
Maybe it’s because I know who I’m going home with tonight. Maybe it’s because I know nothing awful will happen to me because the man holding my hand tightly in his would never let that happen.
Or maybe it’s because I’m not the same girl I was then.
I take my cues from Andre as we walk, keeping my head up and shoulders back as we pass people who watch us with sharp eyes. He doesn’t acknowledge them so neither do I.
We stop at a wide desk of sorts, something I would liken more to an extremely large hostess stand. The woman on the other side gives us an easy smile. One that vaguely reminds me of the way Vi greets all the customers at Platinum.
“Good evening, Mr. Valinov.” She tips her head at me. “Miss Davis.”
I know Andre said we were always being watched, but part of me wasn’t so sure anyone cared about his dating life as much as he seemed to think they did.
But this woman knows my name. My real name. Not the one Yvonne gave me for the auction.
I scoot closer to Andre, suddenly feeling the weight of every eye that’s been on me since he stepped from the shadows and into my life. Somehow I manage to smile back at the woman. “Hello.”
Andre unbuttons his jacket and reaches in to pull out the pistol that’s always strapped at his shoulder. He slides it across the counter before pulling me close again.
The woman takes the gun, her smile holding. “Enjoy the party.”
Andre leads me away before I can thank her, which makes me feel a little bad. She seemed nice in the same way that Vi is nice. No-nonsense, but polite.
The hallways get darker as we move away from the woman and her closet of confiscated guns. There’s no one around us so I lean into Andre’s ear, asking my first question since we arrived. “Does everyone have to leave their weapons there?”
“There are no weapons allowed in the club with no name.” His voice is barely a murmur, and his eyes lift to a shadowy corner as he speaks.
I press my lips together and sweep my eyes across the spot, making sure they don’t stop at the camera positioned there. I give Andre a small nod of understanding.
Maybe he wasn’t exaggerating. Someone is always watching.
We walk the rest of the way in silence, the sound of steady bass getting louder with each step.
Yet another thing that’s familiar. Familiar enough that I tense up with the same nervousness I felt the last time I was here.
Andre pauses just outside a set of heavy doors. One wide hand presses against the side of my head, pulling my temple to his lips. “Everything will be okay. Just stay with me.”
I swallow hard and straighten my spine as the heavy doors swing open, held wide by two giant men.
Andre walks through without hesitation, his tight hold forcing me to do the same even though all I want to do is stand and stare.
I’ve been in this room before, but tonight it looks completely different. The stage is all but hidden, obscured by heavy black drapes that would make it difficult to realize what was behind them if you didn’t already know. There are significantly more tables than there were the night of the auction and all of them are spaced evenly across the floor instead of clustered close to the stage like they were that night.
Even the lighting is different. Last time the room was completely dark, brightened only by the spotlights directed at the stage, but tonight the spotlights shine down on each table, illuminating the cards and chips spread across them.
I’m so focused on the changes that I don’t immediately realize everyone is looking at us.
Everyone.
Andre pulls me toward the side of the room, looking completely oblivious to all the attention we are attracting. He stops along the high top of the bar taking up most of the side wall, casually leaning against it as he runs one hand up my spine before curving his hand around the back of my neck, holding it possessively as he orders champagne and club soda.
