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“Ugh, don’t pull that cute pregnancy shit with me right now, Cirillo,” Stella warns teasingly.
“Seriously, do you guys have to?” Emmie asks, clearly more pissed off by their banter than I am.
Silence falls around us.
Rhea is asleep on the end of the other sofa. Despite claiming that she could hold her alcohol, she got very giggly after only a few sips of champagne. And lucky for her, it seemed to be enough to help her forget about the reason we’re all here in the first place and she passed out like a freaking baby.
“She looks cute,” Jodie muses, clearly seeing who is holding my attention.
“Don’t tell her that when she’s awake, she’s likely to shank you,” Emmie mutters.
“Takes one to know one. And anyway, she’s not from the ghetto, so she’ll have a better weapon.”
“Fuck you, Stel. I hope you starve to death.”
“Enough, children.”
“Sorry, Miss Andrews,” they all sing like pre-schoolers, making me roll my eyes.
“Can we just… get on? Turning on each other isn’t going to make any of this better.”
“We’re good. Stella’s just vile when she’s hungry,” Calli assures me.
“Hadn’t noticed.”
Reaching for the TV remote, I flick the channel over as the film none of us are actually watching comes to an end in favour of finding something else we can all ignore.
“Fucking finally,” Stella shouts when a knock rattles the suite’s door.
She’s on her feet and racing toward her food before I’ve even registered the words.
From my position on the sofa, I can see the door and how she elegantly ploughs into the wall beside it.
Laughter is about to spill from my lips until Calli jumps to her feet beside me, shouting, “Stella, no,” just as the woman in question twists the handle and pulls the door open ready to retrieve her coveted room service.
Everything happens so fucking fast I wonder if I’m actually hallucinating. But instead of her twisting around with a tray in her hands, or even a trolley, she’s flipped around and slammed back with a gloved hand around her throat.
Her grunt of pain as the back of her head cracks against the wall pierces through me as Calli screams, she, Emmie and Jodie running full speed toward the guy choking Stella out.
My head screams at me to move, to go and do something, anything that might help, but my body is frozen in position, my blood turning to ice as another man dressed head to toe in black prowls into the room.
Thankfully, Stella isn’t as high as she previously appeared, or the attack sobered her immediately, because just as Calli reaches the other guy, she finds her fight, kicks the arsehole right in the nuts and manages to twist out of his hold.
I’m too distracted by her skills to notice what the other guy is doing until a blood-curdling scream rips through the suite and I look over just in time to watch Calli slide down the wall and curl up in a ball on the floor.
“You’re going to fucking regret that,” Emmie screams, throwing herself into a fistfight with a man who’s at least double her size.
Stella’s attacker recovers from his busted balls and follows her deeper into the suite.
I want to scream, ‘wrong fucking way’, but I’m incapable of anything as I watch the carnage.
“No matter what happens, you do not leave until one of us comes to get you. You do not answer the door, you do not contact anyone.”
Theo’s deadly serious warning from earlier comes back to me.
They’re going to fucking kill us. If these two dudes don’t get their first.
Movement on the other sofa catches my eye, and I watch Rhea slink off around the opposite side to where Emmie is handing the man his arse and crawl over to Calli, who’s trembling on the floor.
