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#13
The billionaire's bodyguardswalk me out of the ballroom through the fire exit, and they're quick to let go as soon as the doors swing close behind us.
"Mr. Adrianov asks that you wait for his call, Ms. Pearson."
I stumble back a step upon hearing what they've called me, but they're already walking back to the ballroom before I can say a word.
Fear assaults my senses as soon as I realize I'm all alone, and I run as fast as I can until I'm out of the stairwell. My heart pounds frantically against my chest as I find myself back in the lobby, and there's this tiny part of me that's already drowning in despair.
This is the end, isn't it?
Aaron has to be looking for me right now.
And he'll find me before the Devil can.
Nausea threatens to claw out of my throat as I make my way out of the hotel and take the bus back to the dorm.
You're okay, Sheena. You're okay. You're okay.
I nearly jump out of my seat when my phone starts to ring, and my fingers curl against my lap. "Hello?"
"Is it true?"
I don't know whether to feel disappointed or relieved that what I'm hearing from the other end is Paola's voice and not the Devil's.
"Sheen? Can you hear me?"
I clear my throat and force myself to concentrate on Paola's words. "Sorry, what was that again?"
"Have you seen Tara's Instagram story? I want to know if it's true—-"
"I...I don't know. What did she post?"
"She has a video of you being escorted out by security from some party you supposedly gatecrashed—-"
"It's true," I admit stiltedly.
"And?"
"What do you mean 'and'?"
"Iknowyou, Sheen. You'd never gatecrash a party without a valid reason, so that can't be the whole story. There's more, isn't there?"
The conviction in Paola's voice means the world to me, and I realize that while I may not be lucky with most aspects of my life, I sure hit the jackpot in the friend department.
